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“So…” I trailed a finger along the sexy V where his shirt dipped beneath his throat. “You and your brother have made amends.”
His hands slid down my back, finding my hips, the silky fabric of my black dress clinging to my curves.
He sighed. “Not exactly. But I think he’s beginning to understand I could’ve been right about our father’s death.”
“You know, Kol. He saved my life.”
“For which I’m eternally grateful.”
“Valla says you’re both fools.” I kissed the patch of skin at my eye-level. “Actually, she says all men are fools.”
“Valla is a smart, young Morgon woman.”
His hands glided lower, fingers inching up the fabric of my black dress. His lips found my neck.
“Kol—”
“Mm?” His mouth melted my insides to goo.
“We don’t have time.” My protest sounded like nothing of the sort as his hands slid up the back of my bare thighs.
He let them linger. He swept his lips along my neck and brushed a kiss on my pulse. Finally, with a heavy sigh, his hands disappeared, smoothing my dress back in place.
“You’re right.” A quick peck on the lips, he gripped my hand and led me to the terrace. “Where’s your cloak?”
“Here.” I pulled it from the back of the sofa. I slipped into the loose sleeves of the crimson-colored, velvet cloak, flipping up the hood. The luxurious wrap draped to my ankles. “I don’t know how I’m going to wear a harness in this thing.”
“We won’t need one. The ceremony isn’t too far.”
“I wish I didn’t have to be toted around like a baby-doll.”
“I’m so glad that you do.” He swept me up in his arms. “I like the feel of you at my mercy.”
I rolled my eyes. “Valla was definitely right. Men are fools.”
He nipped my bottom lip. “Yes. But I am your fool. Yours alone.” My heart fluttered.
He stepped farther onto our terrace and lifted us both up into the pink twilight.
“We won’t be late, will we? The sun is already setting.”
“No. The ceremony begins when the sun has dipped beyond the horizon.”
From this side of Gladium, it was a short flight before we were flying over the foothills of the Feygreir. Other Morgons flew in from all directions, landing on a flat outcropping just below Pike’s Peak. I was relieved to see more than one carrying a human—Lucius and Jessen, Lorian and Sorcha. We landed in silence, surrounding the unlit pyre. A gray-haired Morgon priest, white-winged in snowy robes, stood like a sentinel guarding his treasure, fingers steepled before him. I’d never seen a Morgon priest up close, having never been to a funeral rite or heartbinding ceremony. Kol informed me that no one speaks at a burial rite. No one but the priest. So I knew not to ask any questions. They’d have to wait till tonight in the warmth of our bed.
Gaius lay atop a thin slab of stone, a mount of kindling circling him. Body and wings wrapped in a brown shroud, the color of his clan, one hand was left exposed, gripping his sword. Warriors were buried with sword in hand.
Kol shifted me in front of him. I kept my hood up, a glacial wind raking over the precipice. Jessen gave me a warm smile, Lucius protectively at her back. Lorian and Sorcha stood on our right. His stance the same.
I scanned the Morgon faces, recognizing many from the Morgon Guard and a few from Nightwing Security. Bowen. Kraven. Valla. Conn stood a few feet behind her, eyes glancing at her platinum hair whipping in the wind. The flaxen-haired Morgon who guarded me outside of The Herald, Wulfgang, stood across the pyre, staring stone-faced at the body we’d come to farewell. He’d finally been released from guarding Kris, who I’m not sure was happy by his absence.
The crowd opened. A line of brown-winged Morgons marched in stoic silence, surrounding the pyre in a semi-circle. The head of the line was a hard-faced Morgon, Gaius’s father, next to a slender, brown-haired female. Three sisters followed, tears falling in quiet mourning. The others must’ve been more distant relations, all still within the same clan.
The priest stared at the horizon, watching as the orange sun slipped beyond Mount Grimm, Feygreir’s highest peak, casting the sky in deep purple.
He opened his arms, white robes and wings spread wide. “All spirits move from one plane to another. It is not our right to judge when one has come and gone. The Great Creator breathes them into existence, giving us mortality to experience the earthly world before sending us onto another, higher plane. We thank Him for our time with Gaius Atrius Woodblade. We honor His call to gather our son’s soul from this world. We send Gaius with grace and blessings and love.”
Gaius was many things to the loved ones encircling his body now. Without him, we would not have known there were three other lairs out there where they were building armies, nor would we have gathered the intelligence that their purpose was much greater than enslaving and murdering humans. Rather, they planned to start a civil war. Our society was being held over a precipice. Without the good of both races working together, it would certainly fall.
