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“Cervos?” Those giant stag-like animals would be perfect for the journey, built for cold, built for the terrain. “They’re in Providence, this cousin?”
“No. But we’ll be headed through that part of Titus either way. With cervos, traveling will be faster, smarter. And Demos… It’s getting too dangerous. This journey. If I know Sierra is safe and secure…”
“Ah.” Lucius wanted to leave Sierra behind.
Demos rubbed his chin and considered what Sierra being in Providence, in her parents’ care, would look like. It would look like relief. Constant Linden would protect her, both from the elements and from anyone who thought to harm her.
“What do you think?” Lucius looked at him now in earnest. “Not only do I respect your insight and wisdom, but you and I are bound just like she is to each of us. And, I think, you know her better than I do. If we do this, what will she do?”
He felt humbled by Lucius’ words, his trust. Surprised, even, at how their relationship had turned. Fate always surprised him. Just as Sierra had been glad to find a sense of generosity in Lucius, Demos was seeing the man in a new light. A man who cared for his wife and cared enough about her to drop any sense of pride by asking another man for advice, her lover, no less.
“I appreciate that, Lucius. I admit, you surprised me today. Helping these people.” He motioned to the area beyond the porch, where scores of windows burned bright from within, comforting and warming its inhabitants that had lost so much today. “A selfless act, taking the day to aid them.”
“I’m not always an ass,” Lucius said with a smug look.
“You would have made a fine king.”
Lucius straightened, seemingly taken off guard.
Demos saved him from commenting, though, and said, “I think Sierra would love to see her home, her parents. But making her stay? I can’t see that.”
Lucius sighed. “Can we convince her?”
Demos looked out into the frozen night. “We still have quite a while until we reach the nearest city. Let me get back to you.”
“Figured you’d say that.” Lucius chuckled. “I’ll let you get some sleep. Goodnight, Servant.”
“Goodnight, Chieftain.”
Lucius headed back out to wherever he had been prior. Demos watched him go. A few minutes passed before Demos felt his brother’s presence behind him.
He didn’t bother with preamble as he told Phobius, “Lucius wants to go to Providence, leave Sierra behind.”
“Impossible.”
“I know.” He ran a hand through his hair, eyes still ahead. “I agree with him, of course. But even if I wanted her to stay, tried to convince her, she’s too stubborn.”
“Good. We’ll make sure she stays that way.” Phobius walked off the porch and entered the cold night.
Now alone, Demos thought of his father, wondering if it really was possible he was corporal or if all this was just a memory in Boriel’s mind, her vision of the past, a past where one of the most powerful Seraphs in Titus’ history had fallen in love with Winter. An obsessive, violent love that had almost destroyed her. Before.
The question now was had Cael really returned? And if so, where was he now? And By the Wind, how had he escaped?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sierra
The roads got worse, the towns more desolate. Fear rode right alongside the winter wind that swept through every square inch of Titus. Every village we passed through was much of the same: the brink of starvation, sickness, death. Its song sang in every direction: weeping, always weeping.
It was the darkest time I’d ever known, a darkness I never could have conjured up in my own nightmares. Hope had packed its bags and left dread in its place. In the bigger cities, the people barely had the energy left to rise up and cry out their fears and needs to their respective leaders. There were no merchants, no trading. Food stores had been either ransacked or spread out to those who had nothing, those who had never thought to plan for such desperate times.
In less than three weeks the whole world had changed.
Lucius had procured us forty cervos at a ranch on the way to Jasperella Trail, where we had no choice but to head east. The plan had originally been to pass through the Arubian Forest, meet up with those Ongahri who would take care of the weapon in the Garrian Mountains. But a storm had made the trek impassable, even with the cervos we rode. A scout had been waiting for our arrival and had given word that the men who were heading toward the weapon were being held up in a little town to the west of the mountain. It was there that some of the Ongahri in our party left, promising to meet up as soon as they could when we reached the Basilica.
It was also there that Lucius announced we would be traveling through Providence, would head north to Syrus Crossing and onto Great Mountain. Not to Goth Mor Helle, but straight into the mouth of the Owl.
If all went as planned, we’d be at the Basilica in three weeks’ time. It was looking more like four.
