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Torchlight shone ahead, casting the stone walls in inky wetness. A dungeon. Thick bars of iron. A voice and a whimper.
Something splashed outside the iron bars, and a raucous laugh echoed through the space.
“Oh, Boriel. Such temper. Tell me, do you—” The voice broke off, now becoming sharper, closer. “Who is there? Show yourself!”
Terror filled my veins, and for a moment I was frozen with it. I knew that voice. It was the same villainous man from every other time I’d been in the In-Between.
“Come back to me, Melos,” I heard from far away.
Demos. Thank the gods.
I quickly sent a message to my brain that this wasn’t real, that I was, in fact, in an inn with my mate and his brother.
Unlike before, I knew exactly how to get back, and when I opened my eyes—which I found were wet with tears—I collapsed against Demos.
“Well?” Phobius grabbed my hand and began rubbing it as if my fingers were frozen with cold.
“I found her,” I said, my voice breathless. “She’s in a dungeon. In the Basilica.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fadon
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or do I need to kick your ass to get the information?” Ander asked, pulling up beside Fadon on his mount.
Fadon looked over at his brother and almost laughed. Ander had on some kind of fuzzy abomination that was supposedly a hat, one of the latest fashions. Even though Ander was a full-blooded Ongahri Alpha, he’d never looked like one, always preferring to dress as a posh lord like the wealthy merchants and politicos of Titus.
“I should kick your ass for wearing that blasted hat.” Fadon faced the road again, his eyes automatically searching for Lucius, who was riding with Sierra this morning.
“Hey, now. I don’t mock you for looking like a grizzly bear. Seriously, Fadon, the beard doesn’t become you. Makes you look extra surly.”
Ander’s quip reminded Fadon of Jon. Gods, he missed his Second. Missed warmth. Missed his room and his men, and by Ongar, even his sister. He prayed all was well back on Great Mountain.
His brother’s voice was sharper, clearer, and Fadon realized he had brought his mount closer to Fadon’s.
“Fadon, tell me what’s wrong. Is it Sierra? Did she reject your suit?”
He shook his head. “Nothing to do with Sierra. I’m just… processing things. As far as things there, she wants me to claim her, be the third.”
“I know you wanted to be her first and only, Fadon. I think it’s best this way, though. She’s special. She needs as many mates as she can get. And with you, Lucius, and Demos? I couldn’t have picked a better trio.”
Ander was right. Fadon had known that for a while, even before he’d learned about Lucius marrying her. And he had accepted that, probably an hour after he’d found out that day back in Ghypsom City while he’d been searching the streets for her.
“I agree. I’ve dropped my pride in that,” Fadon replied.
“Then what is it?”
Fadon paused. “Let me ask you a question.”
“All right.”
“How will this work? Lucius, me, and Demos, sharing her. I’m captain of House Trajan’s army. Lucius is chieftain of Ordelpho.”
“Ah. Yeah. Never really thought about that.”
Fadon wiped the snow off his beard and eyelashes for the hundredth time that morning and looked over at him. “The only option I can live with is to move to Ordelpho, hand over the command to Jon, and leave Mari.”
“Right.” Ander nodded, listening intently, a frown marring his forehead. “That’s a tough one. I know how much being captain is in your blood, Fadon. And I don’t see Lucius giving up his command, either. What does Sierra think? And will Demos leave the Order? Gods, he should tell everyone of those robed fuckers to fuck off.”
