Page 147 of The Last Guardian

My gaze lingered for a fraction of a second on Zaid. His eyes blazed as he watched me, studying my face with all the fire he could ignite. My knees weakened, a knot forming in my throat as I locked up the emotions surging within me. The need to have him burned beneath every layer of my skin.

I forced a smile at Nefeli. “Yes.” The lie burned my tongue as my eyes returned to the window, where Lyra and Arthur had disappeared.

I wasn’t sure what I could say to Arthur anymore. In a way, he had tried to find the truth about Mother’s death, something I tried to do by myself, too. But he also lied about everything—the truth about the Great Council, the truth about magic, and Keraneeth.

Nefeli narrowed her eyes, clearly not believing me, but Lyra stormed inside, her wild ginger hair flowing behind her, a frown creasing her face, and her cheeks flushed. She sat next to me, her amber eyes rimmed and her lips swollen as she kept biting them.

“Are you okay?” I whispered, studying her as she cracked her knuckles.

She nodded quickly and retorted, “Men are idiots.”

Dorian finally deigned to return, sitting at the end of the table. “Hey!” he grumbled sarcastically. “You just need to choose the right one.”

Lyra glared at him, her eyes as sharp as knives. “Men are all assholes!” she proclaimed.

“Cheers to that.” Nefeli raised her glass, provoking a snort from Lyra.

Dorian leaned against the table, his nose already red from alcohol, and said, “You know how to talk to a man.” Then he winked at Nefeli. “Give me one night and I’ll prove her wrong,” he said, gesturing to Lyra.

“Stars, that’s the worst pick-up line ever, Dorian,” I bellowed, rubbing my temple.

Lyra glanced at me, her eyes glinting. “No.” She shook her head. “Remember that time when he only had eyes for the girl who worked at the bakery?”

“Oh, right!” I said, touching the glass in front of me. “Rayen. He flipped a coin and—” I stopped, trying to remember. “What did he say again?”

Dorian snorted, arguing, “Come on! I was drunk.”

“If it’s heads, we talk,” Lyra and I said together as we looked at each other, “if it’s tails, we fuck.”

Everyone puffed around the table as Dorian tried to explain himself with a smug smile on his face.

“Yeah, you’re right, it’s his worst one.” I gave a soft smile to Lyra, glad for the small smile I could see on her face, even for a split second.

Nefeli ran her fingers through her hair, her brows knitted in disbelief. “And girls fall for these bad jokes?” she scoffed.

Dorian smirked, his voice dripping with arrogance. “Bad jokes but great cock.”

I tried not to wince at his lame humor as I slumped back on the bench, hiding my face.

Nefeli barked a laugh, but it was Dax who said, “A man who praises his own cock doesn’t know how to properly use it.”

Dorian snarled, “It’s not me who started the rumor.” He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Lyra and me. “Girls talk when they have a good fuck, right?” I scoffed, glaring at him, but then he added, “Well, I hope Lyra will not give you details the day she fucks Art—ouch.” Dorian yelped when Lyra punched him in the shoulder.

“Okay, I’m out!” I shook my head as I stood up from the bench, trying to erase that crazy conversation.

“No!” Dorian argued, trying to pull me toward him. “Don’t leave, sister.” A hiccup escaped his lips. “You promised to stay with me.” Dorian implored with his eyes, urging me to stay.

I tried to suppress the tears that threatened to roll down my cheeks at the vision of my brother in this state. I knew I was part of his sadness, part of what he was drowning in alcohol. And I hated myself for it.

I scrutinized him, my mouth in a tight line. In a whisper, I said, “You promised not to get wasted.”

Dorian gave me an apologetic look, one that was not at all convincing as he took another sip of his drink.

“You need to go to bed, Dorian,” I sighed, rolling my shoulders. Dorian scoffed. “Well, I’m going to bed,” I said. “It’s been a long day.”

Between the Rite, the meeting with Eirlys, Zaidkiel, and Arthur’s confession, I hadn’t had time to catch a breath.

“Do you need me to come?” Lyra asked, glancing up at me as I stepped over the bench to pass.