Page 54 of Guardian of Exile

As soon as he phrased it like that, the anxiety squeezing her chest released. “No.” She had been afraid of that, she realized. But now that Griff had said it aloud, it made the fear seem ridiculous. Elena Fortuna used people. It was all she knew how to do. Nyx hadn’t used Tristen. She hadn’t slept with him to try and convince him to do what she wanted—was in fact afraid sleeping with him might complicate any chance of him agreeing to help her—she’d slept with him because for a brief moment, they’d connected with each other. They’d both needed something from the other, and they’d both been willing to give it.

“No,” she repeated. “I…think I feel better now.”

“Then I am glad I could help.”

“Have you heard anything from Jevryn?”

“Nothing yet.”

New worry crept in where the old had left space.

“He will be fine, Nyx. He is a very difficult man to kill.”

“I know. I’m not worried,” she lied.

A pause dragged out between them, until Griff asked, “Do you think you will be coming home soon?”

She realized then that she hadn’t even told him she’d found Tristen. And even though her finding of him and his agreeing to help her was vital to Griff’s freedom, Griff hadn’t even asked. There was nothing in his voice other than concern for her.

“Soon. We found Tristen. I don’t know if he’ll help us or not.”

“You cannot make up another’s mind for them. He will help or he will not, and while you can try to sway his choice, it is his to make in the end, as it should be. All that matters to me is that you are safe.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I’m trying.”

“I know you are. You should rest. It is late, and I suspect you have a difficult day ahead of you tomorrow. Goodnight.”

She heard the rustle of his wings and knew he was about to hang up. “Wait.” She swallowed, something hard sticking in her throat. She had waited, once before, to tell someone else what they meant to her. She had waited, and she’d never gotten the chance. “I love you, Dad.”

His voice, when he answered her, was thick with emotion. “I love you too, Nyx. Come home soon.”

She kept the phone pressed to her ear long after the call ended. Finally, she pulled it away and hit the off button. Grabbing the cigarettes and Alihana, she stood and walked to the sliding door. She was lightheaded to the point of nausea and her mouth tasted like the inside of an uncleaned oven. Why did people smoke again?

She stepped back into the penthouse and froze. Kaden stood on the opposite side of the living room, on the threshold between it and the entrance to the foyer. She was so startled she dropped the phone, the loud clunk of plastic hitting tile breaking the silence. His head turned, taking sight of her in the doorway, then snapped to the bedroom as Tristen’s sleepy voice called out, “Nyx?”

Fuck. She spiraled down into A-Queltr as quickly as she could. Something felt different about her inward journey, but she didn’t have time to stop and pay attention to it. She was halfway down the mental stairs when a light flicked on in the short hallway that connected Tristen’s bedroom to the living room.

She ran faster, past the snow-covered cliffs, as Tristen came out using a pair of crutches, his face going hard at the sight of a stranger in his home. She cursed the fact that she hadn’t yet mastered the art of spiraling into A-Queltr while moving—once she was there she could move in the physical world, but trying on the journey would make her have to start all over again. She also cursed Kaden because he was just standing there, watching Tristen approach when he knew exactly how dangerous he could be.

Nyx leapt off A-Queltr’s cliffs. The second she landed safely on death’s ledge she darted across the room, throwing herself in front of Kaden just as Tristen dropped his right crutch and lifted his hand. She caught that hand, absorbing the burst of Shamanic magic he’d primed. Behind her, Kaden hadn’t moved so much as a centimeter in reaction.

Tristen’s face was still flatly cold, and neither the fact that he wasn’t wearing anything except boxers, nor the crutch he leaned on, in any way detracted from how dangerous she knew he was in that moment.

“Do not hurt him,” she warned.

“I told you not to bring your friends.”

“I tried not to.” To Kaden, she said, “You couldn’t have waited a little longer?”

“Your text didn’t sound like you. Evra was worried.”

She glared at Tristen. “And I told you to let me write the text. Or let me call them. This is your fault, so you don’t get to take it out on them.” She dropped Tristen’s hand and spun to Kaden. “Where are Evra and Morgen?”

His gaze fell to her chest—too late, she remembered her bra was somewhere on Tristen’s bedroom floor—then immediately darted back up. “I left them on the floor below us.”

She frowned, wondering how he’d managed that, but knowing with him it was better to be choosy with questions because he’d only answer one. So what she asked was: “Why?”

“Because I knew he wasn’t on it.”