Page 162 of The Stolen Throne
“Cheer up, Pell-mell,” Cain says to his sister, who makes that lemon-sucking face again. “Bringing one Devourer to deal with another Devourer isn’t a bad idea.”
She looks far from convinced.
Still, the others all relax a bit, thanks to his breaking the tension.
The dead spirit version of Eidolon didn’t say we needed anyone else. But other than Reven, he didn’t say not to bring anyone. “So…tomorrow, Cain, Horus, Bene, and I will go. All agree?”
One by one, every person around the table—all except Tabra, who still has her head on her arms—nods agreement.
Outside, a sudden shout of celebration goes up so loud that it’s impossible to miss. The revelers in the room with us echo it.
“Brace yourself,” Reven warns me.
Sizzling that reminds me of being near Hakan when he looses his lightning bolts is all the warning I get before a buzzing jolt passes through me and the room lights up brilliantly, almost blindingly.
The king’s power being released.
“Seven hells.” I bolt to my feet, my chair scraping back, then sit back down just as fast, blinking owlishly. We’re supposed to be from here and know what this feels like. No need to give myself away.
The sensation—like waking up—leaves every part of me almost painfully alive. A dance and sing kind of alive. Rejoice in the feel of my skin alive. Get Reven in a room alone alive.
And that one was only to renew the water life. Good goddesses in Allusian, what’s the one for humans going to feel like?
Speaking of, how is Reven holding on to his control in the wake of something like that? I glance at the corners of the room, almost expecting the shadows to come crawling closer. But they don’t. I glance his way to find him watching me. With wanting. Unadulterated, unhidden, on display for me and all to see.
Like I said…holy hells.
69
Separate Ways
Tziah tugs on Cain’s shirt to get his attention, hands flying through a series of gestures he obviously understands, because he nods. “I promised Tzi I’d show her a stall where they make fairy bread.”
My jaw drops as they stand to leave. Really? After that, they’re going to go off and shop for whatever fairy bread is? A grinning Tziah grabs Horus by the hand, tugging him up, too. When he looks at me for permission to go, I wave him off. Together, they hurry out after Cain.
“Don’t worry.” Oddly, Vos is the one who addresses Pella, who looks as though she might follow her brother out. “Tziah will make sure he doesn’t go off by himself. She feels like she owes him for finding her in the jungle the other night. And Horus will take care of them both.”
“My brother doesn’t need babysitters,” is all she says.
Vos slides a glance toward me and Reven. “He’s getting away from the two of you, you know.”
I figured that much out for myself.
“I could cut the tension with a dull knife,” Pella says. “Just sleep together already and get it out of your system.”
Heat floods my face all over again, this time spreading down my neck and over my chest.
What am I supposed to say to that?
“We better get this one back to a bed.” Vos gets up and gives Tabra’s shoulder a gentle shake. She has trouble lifting her head to blink sleepily at us.
Vos and Reven help her up. Luckily, drunkenness is all around us—whether it’s on spirits or the king’s power. But it means her wobbly state won’t attract undue attention.
Vos looks at the rest of us. “We need to split up.”
“Why?” I ask.
“The way we get back in while the palace is locked down.” Pella pauses at my confused frown, then speaks slower like I’m a child. “We don’t want any attention. So we go a few at a time.”
