Page 16

There’s more than I thought...

Were there more people gathered out there than Fenrir had ever seen at once? Possibly. It was absolutely the largest gathering of living people Fenrir had ever seen at once. The mass graves Lore had made them dig in the fields surrounding the Pit were probably not what most people meant when they thought about big crowds.

But Fenrir had stopped sorting the living and the dead into two distinct categories years ago. He’d had to, when so many of the people he’d cared for had died at his command. There were people he knew and people he knew—the timeline wasn’t nearly as important as the imprint they left behind—and it was the least he owed them: all the dead. Both those he’d gotten killed and…those he’d killed, himself.

But guilt wasn’t what had brought him here today.

Another cheer rose from the crowd beyond the stage, a wave of hands raising, blue streamers clutched in their fists. They were here for him. They had chosen him. And the collective opinion of the masses had to be worth something no matter how terrifying the idea of being their voice may be. He couldn’t let them down now. He didn’t want to let anyone down, ever again.

“Your sword, sir?”

Farris held the silver and black blade out with a reverential bow of his head. Fenrir ran his hand down the sheath before taking the harness and securing it across his back—ready to be drawn.

Not that he’d need it, but like the emblem on his cuirass, the sword was a symbol. One all who knew him would recognize.

“Well, how do I look?” He spun around once, hand lifting to toss his hair so it caught the wind.

Farris frowned before reaching out to give his cape one final adjustment. “If I may, think ya need to button your shirt up, sir. Looks more professional.”

Fenrir grabbed his hand before Farris could touch a single button. “Wait.”

Farris blinked up at him. “Sir?”

There was no chance to explain. An echo of “Sirs!” ran down the line of guards at his back and Fenrir didn’t need to turn around to know Red had arrived.

“A cape, huh? That’s what you’ve been working on Farris?”

Before him, Farris turned a brilliant shade of viridian. Fenrir clapped him on the shoulder before sweeping around, cape catching in a dramatic flourish.

“I at least look the part now, yeah?” He pushed a hand through his hair while Red looked him up and down, hoping it hid how he felt more like a cow readying for the slaughter than any kind of elected leader.

“Armor looks good. Face is clean. Hair’s fine.” Fenrir choked. Fine? “So, what’s the big deal about” —Red wagged a finger in front of her throat and Fenrir reflexively reached for his collar— “whatever is going on up there?”

Please don’t make me button it. “Orpheus said leave it unbuttoned or I look too inaccessible.”

Red scoffed. “Well, he is the expert on the topic.”

Finally, Fenrir almost grinned, relieved she didn’t push him, but the flicker of uncertainty crossing her face stopped him cold. Fenrir kept his voice smooth when he asked, “Don’t suppose you know where our favorite former dark sorcerer went, do you?”

Before him, Red met his eyes and swallowed. “I...ah...” She glanced at the crowd then back at Fenrir, face shuttering when she blurted out, “I asked him to go on stage with ya and he got mad and stalked off. Didn’t have time to follow him and I’m pretty sure he would have bitten my head off if I tried.”

Fifi’s missing?

Fenrir peered through the gap in the flapping banner and encountered too many waving arms to see beyond the first few rows of faces. As if Orpheus would be out there with all those people, anyway. More likely, he’d gone out to pasture with Nightmare, or found some mossy rock within the shade of the forest to ruthlessly peel petals from a patch of wildflowers.

Again, the smile Fenrir expected did not surface. He resisted the urge to tell Red to go fucking find him already. “You checked the horses, yeah?”

“‘Course I checked the horses. Didn’t take off with Nightmare if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s not. Not really. Not when there was a mass of people waiting for him to take the stage and say something worthy of the position he had not so intentionally put himself in. Not when he didn’t even know what the next few months—years—decades—looked like for any of them, let alone himself. No, what worried Fenrir was the inexplicable nothing that suddenly settled in his stomach, as if everything he was worrying about paled in comparison to something he couldn’t even see, let alone name.

It’s just my nerves, that’s all.

Fenrir scanned the ridge beyond the crowd, sun too bright along the horizon for him to see anything more than a distant haze of dust rising up with the eastern wind. If Orpheus was out there, he wouldn’t be so easily spotted. Not if he didn’t want to be found. Except that he did. Fenrir knew better than anyone else that Orpheus was waiting for Fenrir to chase him down. That’s what Fenrir did, after all—what he’d been doing, for all the years they’d known each other.

Just because he’d finally caught up didn’t mean Orpheus was going to suddenly make things easy on him.

Again, a smile teased Fenrir’s lips, and again, it fizzled away before it could take shape. He stepped away from the banner and said, “It’s fine, I’ll find him myself.”