Page 190 of The Stolen Throne
Eidolon’s men found the zariphate. Not a regiment this time—an army. And we weren’t there. Cain wasn’t there. I wasn’t there.
Reven and I were too focused on our relationship. And then on enjoying our new bond.
I blow out a slow breath. We haven’t told anyone about the bonding. It wasn’t the right time, and now I feel just plain guilty. Maybe after we get people safely settled.
I’ve been standing at the portal in the Tropikan temple with my power on, keeping it open, for long enough that I closed my eyes and have basically been sleeping standing up. Making sure to continue to keep the glass open so that more of our people—Wanderers and Vanished alike—can pass through from Enora isn’t hard work, it’s just slow.
I shift on my feet, which ache from having to stand in the boots that go with my celebration outfit. I’ve flipped the bodice open and changed the train so I’m all colorful. The unmasking happened while I was resting in the palace earlier, a shout going up around the city, so at least I haven’t had to wear my mask anymore. Metal is not comfortable on the face.
“My turn.” Cain’s voice behind me makes me jump and blink more awake.
We’ve been holding the portal open in shifts with Tziah, Pella, Vos, and Hakan. Omma refuses to leave Tabra’s side. Reven, just in case we need to save his power, has remained at the palace. I can still feel his irritation with our separation like a bur under a saddle.
They weren’t kidding when they said newly bonded mates don’t like to be apart. Even this small separation has been like bugs crawling over my skin. It’s only slightly better since Reven went into a dark room to restore his strength. He can’t cut me off completely anymore, I don’t think, but the sensation has…eased. He’s more like a tickle at the back of my mind. I’ve tried reaching out to talk to him through our minds, but he’s been silent in return. Maybe shadow time is like a deep sleep. Not my favorite thing, but he’s safe enough in the palace.
He’s only been marginally okay with my doing this because Horus and Bene have come and watched over me each time.
I can see them now—Horus standing in the doorway nearby, back to me, Bene perched on his shoulder.
With each face that comes through, another rock of guilt is added to the pile already built into a mountain inside me.
Eidolon’s troops hit the zariphate hard. It’s a miracle they got away, and I have the Wanderers’ horses—born and bred for the deserts—to thank for that. Cainis and Ledenon’s only guess about how an entire army could come down on them is that the king has a spy working for him from within our people. Among the Vanished, not the zariphate. Except Vida’s dead, so…is there another? More than one?
If there are more hidden in our ranks, we will never be safe.
Tonight is the last night of the Rites—no more power going out, no more renewal, just celebration. It also means tomorrow is the soonest we can have an audience with the king to ask for a more prolonged asylum.
Cain hitches his chin at the guards. “Any new trouble?”
“Who, them?” I wave a careless hand. “Nah. They’ve been absolute lambs.”
A statement that earns me a glare from both guards. I don’t care. They weren’t going to let us do this—or their fellow guards weren’t, at least. Getting into an argument over letting our people into the dominion is why Cain now sports a swollen jaw turning all shades of purple. The other guy is in worse shape. I’m pretty sure my friend came close to drowning the guard with blessed water from the temple’s font.
Nothing was going to stop him from helping his people or mine.
Eventually, a runner was sent to the palace and returned with permission. After Cain and I swap places so he can hold the portal open, the next person to come through is a Wanderer. He nods at Cain but sends me a narrow-eyed glare. Nothing new. I’ve gotten that look from every Wanderer who has come through.
They blame me.
Cain hitches his chin at me, and I move closer. “Ignore them,” he says.
“Easy as that?” I murmur back, glancing over my shoulder.
His chuckle is expected, but it settles me all the same. This is an old joke between us. The Wanderers—many of them, at least—never did accept his “pet.” He was always telling me to ignore the looks and whispers. Nice to know some things never change.
“Horus,” I call. “You and Bene head on back. I’ll wait for Cain.”
Cain stiffens “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Even with the way my entire being is straining to be back in sight and touching distance of Reven, this is my chance to clear the air with Cain.
“I’ll be with Wanderers to get back. I won’t be alone. You go ahead,” he says.
“I think we need to talk.”
His face goes entirely blank. “Oh. Okay.”
Not exactly encouraging. “Or we could later.”
