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Ryneth made a broken sound when Daven pulled out, and his knees buckled. Daven caught him before he could drop and hauled him up, carrying him away from the fogged glass and the lights of the city.

The bedroom waited in low light. Daven laid him in the center of the mattress. Ryneth dropped into it with a broken exhale. Daven climbed in beside him, pulling the heavy duvet over them both and closing every gap as he drew Ryneth flush against his side and tucked his head under his chin.

“Go to sleep, aethera,” Daven whispered into his hair. “The world can wait for the sun.”

Ryneth closed his eyes. For a moment, the silence was absolute.

But the quiet stayed brief. A sharp chime cut through the room.

Daven reached for the nightstand. His multi-slate lit up, casting a hard blue glow over their faces. He sat up with his back against the headboard, bruises darkening across his ribs, his jaw set.

Ryneth pushed himself upright, slower this time. Static flickered once at his fingertips. “What is it?”

“Kylix. And he’s pissed off.”

“Why does that not surprise me?”

Daven snorted. “Yeah. Moody fucker. But he’s got a reason. Fucking Concordant. Look at that.” He turned his multi-slate toward him.

Ryneth took in the message thread, his expression tightening as he read. “All surviving Attica members are in custody,” he read. Then his eyes dropped to the attached transmission. “Good Light.”

“Yeah.” Daven’s mouth hardened. “They let us clean the blood and called it cooperation. It will be a joy to kill each and every one of them when the time is right.” He set his multi-slate aside. “It’s late, and we had one hell of a night.”

“What will happen tomorrow?”

Daven smiled and tugged his bonded in the crook of his throat. “Tomorrow, Helion will want to see you. They will want the bonding sealed properly.”

Ryneth frowned. “What does that mean?”

“Helion seals a bonding with blood,” Daven said. He reached for Ryneth’s neck and pulled him in for a hard, brief kiss. “They will want a sacrifice.”

Daven felt Ryneth tense. He tightened his hand at the back of his neck, not enough to hurt. Enough to keep him there.

“Easy,” he murmured. “Whatever they ask for, you won’t stand in front of Helion alone.”

Ryneth looked at him.

“They can watch,” Daven said softly. “They can chant. They can demand whatever old ritual makes them feel holy.” His mouth brushed Ryneth’s once. “But you’re mine. They don’t get more than I give.”

Catching the back of his neck, Daven tipped Ryneth’s head back so he could kiss him again, slower this time. “Sleep now, and meet me in the sky again.”

31

RYNETH

Ryneth woke to sunlight warming the bed.

He blinked at the ceiling for a moment, feeling strangely refreshed as his thoughts slowly caught up with the morning.

Behind him, Daven slept heavily, one arm draped over Ryneth’s waist, his hand resting low like he’d fallen asleep still holding on.

Warm breath brushed the back of Ryneth’s neck, just behind his ear, and a shiver ran through him.

Even asleep, Daven felt like a predator, his body heavy and certain behind him, his hand still low on Ryneth’s stomach.

The memory came back in flashes. Rain on glass. Wind. Daven’s mouth at his throat. The Breaking Storm above them while Daven took him apart like there had never been any other way this could end.

A pulse answered low in his body, sharp enough to make his thighs tighten under the sheets.