Page 223 of Bedeviled

I sit up too fast and black spots fill my vision.

“Nero,” I say frantically.

Memnon places a bracing hand on my back.

“He’s right here,” he says gently.

My soul mate moves aside a little, and hidden behind his large frame is my familiar. My panther’s fur is free of the mud and blood from the fight, but he still lies on his side, his body far too still.

For a moment, my chest hurts again, so intensely I feel like it might cave in. My eyes move from Nero to Memnon.

Is he…?

I can’t even fully think the thought.

Memnon gives his head a shake anyway. “He’s alive,” he says gently.

As though he knows he’s being spoken about, my panther blinks open his amber-green eyes.

“Nero!”

I reach out for my big cat, and he lifts his nose, bumping it against my palm. He gets up then, giving his forelegs a nice deep stretch before he prowls over and rubs himself against my side.

I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his fur.

Thank you, I say down our bond.

The sorcerer clearly carried Nero over from where my familiar was lying and then made a point to heal him at the same time he must’ve healed me.

You never need to thank me for that. Memnon gives me the softest look, and I remember all over again that my sorcerer is no longer a sorcerer.

Whatever he is, he is mine.

I glance around us. The world feels changed, and yet, I’m sitting on the same patch of earth I fought Eislyn on, and the jungle is still alive with the same sounds it always makes.

The rain has stopped, and there’s a break in the clouds. I catch a glimpse of the sun and the startlingly blue sky it hangs in.

It’s all so unnervingly peaceful.

“What happened in the Otherworld after I left?” I ask.

“Eislyn’s forces didn’t expect the fae to fight them off as intensely as they did. And they didn’t expect the Bargainer.”

“They didn’t expect you,” I clarify. At least not as their enemy. In fact, I would bet my wedding ring on the fact that Memnon was to be Eislyn’s key weapon. Certainly not her downfall.

Memnon flashes me a sly grin then. “Yes, well, my wife is quite cunning when it comes to lifting spells.”

Even though I’m tired and achy, I still feel myself preen from his praise.

“The Bargainer,” I say, “is he okay?” I ask.

The last I saw of him, he’d thrown himself back into the thick of the fight.

Memnon scoffs. “He’s alive and well enough to collect on his debts.”

Though he sounds a bit miffed, Memnon’s eyes dance in that same way they used to when I first met him in Rome.

We stare at each other too long, and I find I’m smiling like a dope, and I really, really don’t care.