Page 34 of The Arcane God

Kaya’s hand flew to her chest in utter shock. “You broke the bond? Are you serious? How?” she asked, excitement and trepidation warring on her face.

“It’s a long story,” Ena said, not wanting to get into the specifics just now. “But as you could imagine, there are those who are…upset about it, to say the least, and we had reason to believe that we were in danger. And well…there was a seer who helped us, who told us that it was Gaia’s will that we come here. To find you, and that you would help us.”

“Wow,” Kaya said, still clearly reeling from the revelation that the bond had been broken. “But how did you find out about the binding spell? Are you from Occidens too?”

“No, I’m from Auster, but I found out in part because of the journals you gave to Petyr,” Ena answered, dancing around the full story. “You did give him those, didn’t you?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, seeming delighted by the idea. “And he gave them to you?”

“Well, no. Not exactly,” Ena said, exchanging a glance with Turner. How much should they expose about Ty just yet? Ena knew that would be an extremely sore topic for everyone involved. “Someone found them. A-a daemon. And then he—we—found the amulet too.”

“A daemon found the journals I gave to Petyr?” she asked, bewildered by this information. “Was it you?” She looked at Turner.

“No, actually,” Turner began cautiously, taking a deep breath. “It was your son.”

Kaya’s eyes went wide. “My—my son,” she said, her voice softening, as if she hadn’t said those words in a very, very long time. “You know my son?”

“Of course I know your son. He’s the heir to the Underworld,” Turner said. “And my best friend. It’s only because of him that I am here.”

“Why’s that? Did he send you?” she asked, clearly struggling to understand.

Ena and Turner exchanged a pained glance again.

“In a way,” Turner said gently.

Just then, the young woman Xoe reentered the tent carrying a steaming bowl of water and a cup full of something dark. Ena was grateful for the distraction from the topic as the woman came to the circle and laid the bowl and cup next to the fire. Ena could see that the steaming water inside was filled with pine needles and pine berries. It smelled fragrant and delicious.

“Thank you, Xoe,” the man said.

The woman looked at them cautiously, as if afraid they might jump up and bite her, before rushing out of the tent once more.

She watched as the stryx man took the cup in his hand and poured several drops of something almost black into the steaming bowl of tea. Just as the dark-crimson drops entered the water, the scent of it hit Ena fully.

Blood.

An overwhelming urge came over her then, and she launched herself forward, wrenching the cup out of the man’s hands. She brought it to her mouth and downed it in nearly one gulp. She felt the warm, thick liquid gliding down her throat, hitting her stomach like a soothing blanket—but it wasn’t enough. The cup was empty.

Fervently, she stuck her tongue inside, desperate, searching for whatever drops remained. She found them all, lapping them up like they were the last drops of water in the scorching summer heat. Then, finding no more drops inside, she threw the cup to the ground and looked around, only to find everyone staring at her and—

No. Wait. That wasn’t right.

She was still sitting here, around the fire, watching the man prepare the tea just as she had been. She looked around, confusion muddling her brain, to find Turner looking at her cautiously.

Are you okay? he mouthed.

She just stared at him, not knowing what to say until she suddenly realized that her head was pounding. She breathed in sharply, rubbing at her temples to try and soothe the sharp pain.

“Ena?” Turner asked, his voice full-on concerned now as he reached out to touch her shoulder.

“I’m—I’m fine,” she gritted out. “Just lightheaded.”

She shut her eyes, finding everything, especially the sight and smell of the bowl of water and blood, to be overwhelming.

“Is she ill?” the stryx man asked curiously, but not unkindly.

“No, she’s…she’s pregnant,” Turner explained. “About fourteen weeks along. I think it’s just a headache.”

“Oh, I see,” the man said.