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Marcus stopped, a tinge of frustration spreading over his face. Sirus would never grow tired of sneaking up on his old foe.
“I’m not sorry to disappoint you,” Marcus replied. He looked weary, his eyes more sunken and dark. The glow of his skin dimmer than before.
Sirus stepped beyond the shadow and into the pale light of dusk that seeped in through the haze. “We seem equally skilled at avoiding death.”
Marcus nodded. “Blessed, I like to think.”
Sirus was far from blessed but didn’t bother to say it. “You should have asked me to kill her from the start.”
Marcus looked out into the mist. “I will not argue that. Though I’m not sure you would have succeeded.”
“She’s dead,” Sirus told him. It’s why Marcus had come, to confirm Nestra’s destruction.
His old foe turned his narrow, jaded gaze on him. “You’re sure?”
Sirus reached into his coat, pulled out the fae-silver diadem encrusted with blue gems, and tossed it to Marcus. “Yes. I saw it myself.”
The zephyr turned the diadem over in his hands with a look of faint disbelief. It was done. Marcus let out a long breath, and with it a heavy weight seemed to lift from his shoulders.
“If you should ever need anything, Sirus…” Marcus offered.
“Our debt is satisfied.”
Marcus eyed him. “We’re far from even,” he declared. “We may have much to fix in our Court, but I hope we can at least begin here. We owe you and yours a great deal. The king himself wished me to express his gratitude and respect.”
They’d not defeated Nestra for Strye or Thurin or any zephyr.
“Did he express such thanks to you?” Sirus asked.
Marcus shifted to lean back on his heel. “He made me High General and Chief Regent of the Court.”
“Then Thurin is not a total fool,” Sirus observed.
The zephyr grimaced at the slight against his king, but he didn’t bite back as he might have before. Instead, Marcus smirked. “The recent threat to his life and crown has brought about much change in my King.” A deadly coup could have that effect. “He imagines a stronger Court of Strye now that Nestra is gone. One more open to the world. One with allies instead of enemies.”
Sirus would believe it when he saw it. He could tell Marcus was skeptical but had hope.
“I hope, for your people’s sake, he doesn’t squander this moment of clarity.”
Marcus nodded softly. “How many of her paladins escaped?”
“Few. No more than five.”
After Nestra’s destruction, Levian had bound the surviving and the dead paladins with magick and dumped them on the Council of Mages’s doorstep to deal with. It’d caused quite a stir.
“We’ll continue to hunt them,” Marcus assured him. “A few escaped the island after we reclaimed power. The king is impatient to have the traitors collected.”
“There’s one. A soulless creature with eyes of mirror.”
Marcus scowled with recognition. “Yes. I know him. He’s one of those who fled?”
“Yes.” Sirus had thought Aldor dead. Had seen Nestra plunge the dark dagger into his chest. How he’d survived, Sirus didn’t know. Niah and the others had scoured the forest, but they found only a smear of blood along the door of the old dovecote near where they’d fought. He’d simply vanished. The Dökk blade as well.
The zephyr nodded his understanding. “My king and the Court are also eager to see him captured. We’ll find him.”
Sirus wasn’t so sure he would, but he would leave it in their hands for now.
For a moment, silence lingered between them. “The power Nestra hunted. It remains hidden?” Marcus asked finally.
