Page 94

“He may, yes.” Aviel’s mouth curved as he pointed at Daven. “But not you.”

Milanov lifted his hand. “Stop it, Aviel. Let’s not frighten him further. Ryneth, please take a seat. Daven, release his hand for a moment and let him breathe. He’s not going anywhere.”

Daven reluctantly let go. He sure as hell hoped that Ryneth wouldn’t bolt, or this ceremony would turn into a hunt—and he would enjoy every second of the chase. Though he’d prefer that part remain private.

“I imagine you have questions after our last conversation,” Milanov continued after they’d all taken a seat.

“I had questions,” Ryneth admitted. “But the longer I’m here, the clearer everything becomes. Or less clear, I guess I could say. I mean, this is all just really… weird.”

Cyprian smiled. “I know the feeling. I felt it too when I first came here.”

Ryneth looked up at him with those silver eyes. “Does it get… better? The unrest in my body? This… hum?”

“Your static will settle,” Milanov said. “Or at least it’ll stop feeling like it only answers when you’re cornered.”

Ryneth frowned. “I’m not sure what I mean. I just feel…” He drew a slow breath, and Daven’s stomach tightened at the sound. “Like I said. Weird.”

“There are two things,” Zimeon said from beside the fire. “If it’s your static you’re worried about, that part gets easier. Practice helps. Being here helps. In time, you’ll be able to call on it without waiting for it to panic on your behalf.”

Ryneth looked between them. “And the other thing?”

Milanov stretched his legs out in front of him. “The hum.” His mouth curved. “That’s the part no one likes to explain.”

Ryneth huffed. “Because it doesn’t exist.”

“Doesn’t it?”

Ryneth shook his head. “Those are stories. Things people say when they need something to believe in. When they need to survive another night.”

Milanov’s mouth curved. “Call it fate, if that makes it easier to dismiss. Call it instinct. Call it whatever name makes it easier to swallow. Two people whose power answers each other too strongly to stay apart.”

Ryneth’s mind had slipped back into Düren. Daven turned, and caught the distant, glassy look in Ryneth’s eyes. The opium was already softening the edges.

“My son Moargan found his destiny in Cyprian. Kylix found Mirel. And now Daven has found you.”

“Has found me?” Ryneth blinked. His cheeks flushed, although he refused to look at Daven. Instead he stared back at Cyprian. “Is that true?”

Cyprian smiled. “Yes.”

Mirel shifted beside Kylix. “I-it’s loud at first,” he added. “Like you’re always about to fall. It gets b-better.”

Ryneth dragged in a breath that sounded wrong. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he muttered. “This isn’t real.” He shoved to his feet so fast his chair scraped hard across the floor. “This is not real. None of this is. You’re⁠—”

“Sit down.” Daven’s voice cracked across the room before Ryneth could finish.

Ryneth jolted like he’d been struck. His mouth snapped shut. For one wild second he just stared at Daven, chest heaving, static flickering faintly at his fingertips. Then he dropped back into his seat.

Only then did Daven register that he was already standing over him.

“You’re panicking, aethera,” he said, keeping his voice lower now. “But there’s no need.”

“Helianth, get the equipment,” Milanov barked.

Ryneth shook his head. His lips parted, but nothing came out. Shock drained the color from his face.

“Why are you so scared now?” Daven murmured.

Ryneth’s lips trembled with fury. “Because I had no choice.”