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“How are you feeling, child? I saw you found the pond.” She motioned to the window, and I flushed. “Your strength is returning. That is good. Very good.” She smiled, looking me over.
“Weak but much better. And yes, I did. I plan on visiting the pond again in the morning, try to get some of my strength back,” I replied.
“Water is a wonderful healer. I think that’s a great idea.” She gathered my dirty bedding, then headed out the door to wash them.
“Speaking of water,” Demos said. “Drink.” A tall glass, filled to the top with water, appeared in front of me.
He cared more about my hydration than he did about my feelings, I thought. But was that fair, truly? He probably hadn’t wanted any of this. A gift, he had said. The gift of my body, how I had honored him. When he’d said it, I had felt special. Now, looking back, I felt like it was more pity on his part.
He must have felt my desire to be left alone, because after I drank down the water, he left the cabin without a word.
I was determined from that point on to close my heart to anyone. That never again would I allow myself to feel these things. The pain was too much. I would be like Demos: disciplined, not affected. It wasn’t pettiness that had me make the decision. No, it was self-preservation. I had been told by them both that I needed to heal. Protecting myself from future hurt included that.
If hardening my heart was what it would take to heal, then so be it. It would become a stone.
Chapter 24
Fadon
“Omega,” Lysander said lamely.
Fadon sipped his ale, his body weary. They had arrived home several hours ago. Jon was with the healer, recuperating in the surgery, and the remaining men from the envoy were now in the dining hall engorging themselves on food and drink, all three having been given a thorough examination from the healer. It was late, and Fadon wanted more than anything to just go to his room and pass out in a dead sleep.
But he was a royal and also captain of the Ongahri army. Just because he was home now didn’t mean his role could be shelved.
He was with his brother and Mari, in the queen’s parlor. A fire gently crackled in the hearth. Several lamps burned, giving him enough light to see his brother’s face pale several shades lighter as the minutes went by.
“That’s what I said,” Fadon replied, his tone dry.
“Then why in Ongar’s name isn’t she here, Fadon?” Mari asked with heat, pointing a red lacquered nail at the floor.
“Omega?” Ander said again.
“Yes, Ander. Pay attention!” Mari snapped at him. “Fadon, answer me. Why did you let her go? And why not send word? I would have sent men to help you.”
Fadon rubbed his tired face. He knew this conversation was going to be difficult, but his sister’s screeching only made him want to gloss over everything in one short sentence and be done with it.
Instead, he told them what had happened. How Sierra’s estrus had brought on a fast and powerful rut that had blinded all reason in his men, and almost in himself. How Demos must have known all along and, strangely, had her best interest in mind every step of the journey, vowing to deliver her safely to Lysander and no other. How Fadon had no choice but to allow the blasted Servant to take her and see to her safety. He told them about all the death and destruction that followed. About the watcher and the horror of what had happened to her. How he’d almost lost Jon, and the condition of the remaining men in the envoy.
When he was finished, no one said anything. Fadon’s throat was dry, and he poured himself more ale. While he drank, he looked back at his brother, who was seated across from him. Ander stared blankly ahead and was still in the same position he’d been when Fadon had started this conversation.
Fadon knew that learning Sierra was Omega was unbelievable, almost impossible, after decades of hoping there was a young omega out there—even he had a hard time believing it was real. But he expected a far different response from his brother. That the omega happened to be the Fealty Bride, Lysander Trajan’s future wife, precluded joy, celebration… something other than what Fadon was seeing played out now: shock. The kind of shock someone faces after a bloody battle or a sudden death of a loved one.
“And this Servant was not Prius?” Mari asked, breaking the silence.
Fadon shook his head. “No. I’d never seen him before, a complete stranger. And young for the Owl.”
“Ongar be blessed that it was this Demos, then. I can’t imagine that old Prius doing any of that.”
Fadon grunted. “That is true.” But Prius didn’t look a thing like Demos, who even Fadon had to admit was attractive. The thought of the blue-eyed Servant taking Sierra, fucking her…
No, Fadon couldn’t go there. He drank more ale.
“Oh, I forgot. That must be what this letter is about, then,” Mari said, pulling it out of her dressing gown’s pocket. “It came yesterday for you. Has the Owl’s seal.” The letter was more note than anything. Just a small square of parchment. She handed it over to him, but not before she reached over to touch Fadon’s wrist.
“I’m so sorry about the loss of your men, Brother. I truly am. They will be honored for their service, I assure you.” She looked genuinely affected.
Sometimes his sister surprised him. When it came down to it, his queen was a good one.
