Page 60 of The Stolen Throne
Whatever. I have a Devourer.
And now, maybe, more answers.
There’s nothing for it but for me to stride confidently away—with more stares following my every step than I think even my arrival in the camp garnered. I head back to the zariph’s tent, which is thankfully still standing. Reven stalks along behind me like an angry, prowling jungle cat of Tropikis. It’s not lost on me that Cain, Vos, and Horus all trail him closely, taking up positions around him.
This is going to be a disaster.
26
Revelations
I thought maybe getting to the tent with a smaller number of people to deal with would be a relief. Wrong. Instead, I’m staring at a sea of faces—most of them angry or confused or frightened—while I try to keep myself together. What I just did took a lot out of me, and it’s starting to hit, my limbs turning heavy. Not exactly what I’d call fun.
I realize I’m twisting my signet ring and drop my hands to my sides. “Now—”
“What happened out there?” the zariph shouts.
Yup. Disaster.
At least acting as queen comes with perks, like not explaining myself.
“What should I call you?” I ask my new Devourer friend, blocking out the zariph’s scowl.
He gives another small bow of his head. “You may call me Bene.”
Bene.
I mean…I should have guessed. Every person in Nova knows the names of the goddesses’ consorts, though the shortened form is new to me.
“Is that thing talking?” The zariph waves a hand at the Devourer. “Or are you making this up as you go?”
Bene lifts a sandy lip in a silent snarl.
The zariph snaps his mouth closed with an audible clack of teeth. That had to hurt.
I clear my throat. “May I present Benedornan, or”—apparently—“Bene. The consort of the Goddess Aryd. He has been searching for her a long time.”
“Impossible,” Cainis snaps.
Bene flaps his wings. “I do not care for this man. Do you wish me to smite him for you?”
It’s hard to hold in a huff of a laugh. Except what we need to talk about now is no laughing matter. I look at Reven. “Does everyone in here know what you came from? What Eidolon is? The shadow shedding?”
Vos and Cain slide closer to Reven, and a frown flickers over Reven’s features. “Yes.”
Good. Less to explain, then. “A specter of Eidolon—not the current one, but a ghost from one of his past selves—came to me.”
Cain and Reven both startle at the same time. Cain crosses his arms, tipping his head at me. “When was this?”
When is a sand trap we don’t have time for. “He told me a story.”
I quickly tell them about the alternate creation history, the goddesses and the Devourers and the amulets, trying to remember the specific words the ghost king used. Bene remains silent through it all. So does Reven, though his silence is more ominous. Cain, meanwhile, is leaning back on his elbows, just listening.
“First of all, you heard this from a ghost of Eidolon, and you believed it?” the zariph says with a dismissive sniff.
“Not until a Devourer showed up. He can confirm much of what I was told.”
Cainis tents his fingers under his chin, eyeing me the way Omma used to when I asked silly questions. “And you’d believe him?”
