Page 225 of The Gods Order

My attention drifts back to the house. Neither my father nor my men rush me as I scan every surface.

“Is she asleep? Does she know I’m here?” I ask quietly.

“She knows, and she’s waiting,” my father says, stepping to my side. “This is as far as your men and I go. Your mother asked that just you enter this time, and I…well, I can’t go in.”

His voice cracks the smallest bit, and my frown deepens as a sense of how much he misses her spears across my chest. I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I bet this is the longest the two of them have ever been away from each other.

I can’t imagine being this close to my men and not being able to see them.

At least since he’s a Beginning God, he can still talk to her.

“Are you all going to be okay out here?” I ask, focusing on them.

Riven smirks.

“We’ll be fine, angel. What’s the worst we could do?”

I purse my lips at him and his ever-growing smile.

“Be good. Please,” I say as I walk into his waiting arms.

Each of them showers me with affectionate kisses and sweet words. I soak up their warmth and support, then pull my shoulders back.

“When you walk through the entrance, you’ll come into the living room. Take the stairs and head straight back through the hall. There’s a single door at the end. Your mother is waiting for you there.”

I hold my father’s gaze and, hesitantly, reach my hand out toward him. He grips my fingers and releases a deep breath.

“I have no right to ask a favor from you, but I am going to ask,” he mumbles.

“What’s that?”

“Please don’t call her by her name. That will…” He glances at the ground and his jaw muscles flex. “That will crush her.”

My heart thuds even harder in my chest. That’s the last thing I thought he was going to ask. It’s almost unbearably sweet. He’s so worried about her. Worried that I might make her feel worse about being trapped here.

“I won’t,” I say.

His shoulders drop a fraction as he gives my hand another squeeze, then lets me go.

“Go on in. She’s been waiting a long time for this.”

When my feet finally move, each step feels heavier than the last. It seems to take a million strides to reach the front door, yet I got here before I blinked.

I spare a single glance over my shoulder. My men stand aligned, shoulder to shoulder, watching me, with my father right beside them.

My fingers twitch around the handle and I release a deep breath. The door swings open without a sound, and warmth immediately wraps around me.

The interior is just as open as the windows promised. Exposed beams climb overhead, disappearing into the towering peak of the ceiling. A stone fireplace crackles quietly along one wall while a broad staircase curves upward beside it.

It feels lived-in, peaceful without trying.

Like a home.

The door quietly shuts behind me, and I give myself one more moment to scan the room. I have a desperate desire to go run my fingers through the discarded plush blanket lying on the couch that’s facing the fireplace. I want to press my face against it.

I don’t allow myself to do that, though.

I take unsteady steps toward the stairs.