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A slender hand stroked his arm from behind him, and when he shifted aside, Maeve came into view, her smile the greatest contrast to the vicious scar across her face. A scar, though, that had been gilded by the light of her inner phoenix, making it glow as if in spite of the horror it stood for.
Kintsugi, Maeve had said, quiet pride in her voice. She was like kintsugi—her broken seams repaired with gold.
“Hey, you two,” Maeve now said as she came over and gave her sister a hug. “Or rather, three,” she amended with a loving look at Merle’s belly. “How is my tiny niece doing?”
“Making me pee every ten minutes and insisting on partying as soon as I lie down.”
“The usual, then.” With a grin, Maeve turned to Hazel and hugged her, too. “Good to see you.”
“You, too.” Hazel squeezed her tight, this young witch whose tortured past was to blame on Hazel’s late sister, Isabel. No matter how many times Maeve reassured her that Hazel wasn’t in any way responsible for her ordeal, she still felt the pang of guilt. Isabel was her sister—Hazel should have sensed her descent into mad violence, should have been able to stop her.
“To what do we owe such a high-profile visit?” Merle asked with a side-eyeing glance at Arawn. “If I’d known you were coming over, Dad and I could have made dinner.”
“And I’d have gotten some more cookies,” Rhun said as he strolled into the kitchen from the back door to the yard. “Extra dark side and all.”
The bluotezzer demon ignored Merle’s warning glare and kissed Maeve on the cheek…under the watchful gaze of Arawn.
“We’re going on a trip,” Maeve declared with a lip-biting smile.
“Oh?” Merle raised her brows. “A belated honeymoon?”
“A little bit more adventurous than that.” Maeve pushed a strand of her ginger hair behind her ear. “We’re going hunting.”
“Why do I have the feeling,” Rhun asked into the silence that followed, “that your prey won’t be of the regular game variety?”
“I have received reports of another ancient one awakening.” Arawn straightened from his casual position leaning against the doorframe and prowled farther into the kitchen, all predatory grace and lethal power.
For all the nonchalance with which Rhun liked to treat his new brother-by-mating, Hazel still caught the sliver of alertness that flitted over Rhun’s expression at the approach of the Demon Lord. The bluotezzer enjoyed poking at people and playing at being the insouciant wisecracker, but he was never unaware of his surroundings or threats nearby. In the time Hazel had known Rhun, she’d learned that he knew exactly where the line was and how far he could push it.
Merle sat up, her shoulders tense, blue eyes focused on Arawn. “Another fallen god?”
“No.” The corners of his mouth tipped up in a sardonic smile. “My brethren would not awaken so much as they would have worked their way back to former glory over the course of millennia.”
“Like you.” Merle raised a brow.
“Like me. None of them are sleeping. Let there be no doubt about that. If we have not heard of another one, it is because they are still gathering their power and spinning intrigues in order to either make a grand entrance or quietly usurp so much authority and territory that by the time they deign to reveal themselves, entire countries will fall at their feet.”
“And you know this because you’re so good at psychology…or because you kind of want to do the same?”
Arawn’s only answer was a cold smile…that warmed as Maeve twined her fingers with his and squeezed his hand with a look that was equal parts indulgent and a pointed nudge.
“Whatever power I seek,” Arawn said silkily, “will forever be grounded in humanity.”
Maeve’s humanity, Hazel thought, the silent amendment to Arawn’s statement an unspoken truth among all of them. Maeve was Arawn’s heart, his conscience. And, if rumors were to be believed, she was the only reason he hadn’t teamed up with his erstwhile brother, Velez, when the other fallen god had come to Arawn seven months ago with the proposal to reclaim their place as rulers over earth—with the humans being little more than prey for the ancient beasts encouraged to hunt them down.
Arawn hadn’t just declined Velez’s offer; he’d smote the other god when he’d threatened Maeve. Which, apparently, was the only way to kill one of Arawn’s kind—with the power of another god.
And if it weren’t for Maeve and the mitigating influence she had on Arawn, the world might look very different right now.
“How fortunate,” Rhun said blithely, “to have the one reformed primordial deity there is on our side.”
“You should count your blessings,” Arawn murmured with just enough of a humorous glint in his eyes to take the warning out of his words.
Maeve pursed her lips, clearly hiding a smile. “Anyway, while we’re gone, you can contact Lucía with anything business-related. We’ll have phones with us for emergencies, and Arawn can flash us back in a second, but we might not always have good reception where we’re going.”
“Where are you going?” Merle frowned. “The Siberian steppes?”
Maeve laughed softly and inclined her head. “More like mountains—the Himalayas.”
