Page 69 of The Stygian Crown

A mob of people rushed in behind him, weapons drawn and at the ready. Thomas’s glaive was dark with blood, and his glasses hung crooked on his face. Serena carried two swords, one burning with starlight and the other smoking obsidian. George carried a spiked club still matted with flesh and hair. Rahj held no weapon, but blood coated his arms and he looked drained, his face tight with exhaustion. More familiar faces filtered in behind them, including Jasper and Bear. So the lordling had remained loyal after all.

“You’re late, second.”

“See, I told you he’d be alive. Like a roach, that one—survives anything.”

Several faces swung between Kara and Namirah, then back again, their lips parting.

“Mother Night,” Jon said.

“Spitting image,” George whispered.

“Goddess save us.” Aaron crossed his hands in the ward sign against evil.

“Any casualties?” Logan asked.

Jon’s face fell, and Kara winced. How quickly Logan resumed the burden of leadership.

Faedra and Feron drug a makeshift litter into the room. Athar rested on it, a quickly spreading stain across his abdomen.

Kara swallowed the lump in her throat and glanced at Serena. “We can’t heal him?”

Serena shook her head. “The wound is bad—infection’s already in his blood. I don’t have the power.”

Kara climbed out of Logan’s lap and moved to Athar. “I can try—”

Athar took a deep, rattling breath. “Keep your blood, missy. You need it more than me. I know a lethal gut wound when I see one—pulled my own sword out of enough of ‘em.” His breath rattled. “I got the one that did it, that’s what matters. It’s time for me to go home. See my Martha again.”

Jon turned away and lowered his head, eyes clouded with tears.

Namirah took everything in with a curious gaze.

Sanguine armor flashed in the dark as a woman rushed to Athar’s side.

All the weapons swung to point at her, keeping her out of reach of Athar. Logan pulled Kara back against him.

The Sanguine reached for her helm with shaking arms and drew it off, and a mane of black streaked with grey fell out.

“Lena?” Athar gasped.

Logan’s body went still against Kara. “Mother,” he whispered, so low no one else could possibly hear.

Kara glanced at him. He’d been a babe when they’d separated. There was no way he’d remember what she looked like…unless he had sought her out once he was older. Kara’s heart clenched. Had she rejected him then, too?

Athar’s great chest shook in a strained, wet laugh. “I told you I’d be seeing you again, girly.”

“I hadn’t imagined it like this, old man. I believe you had me at the end of a blade at the time.”

He waved a hand at the drawn weapons. “Enough. She’s not gonna kill me any faster, and if she did it’d be a mercy.”

The pack of bristling edges slowly lowered, but everyone kept their weapons drawn and at the ready.

Magdalena crawled to Athar’s side and took his large, hairy hand between hers. “I’m glad you went with him. For supporting him when I didn’t. Thank you for keeping my son safe. I know he benefited from your guidance. You did what I was too much of a coward to do.”

“It's not too late to fix things, Lena.”

She stroked a hand over Athar's face and nodded. “I’ll try.”

Logan stood on shaky legs and moved to Athar. He knelt at his side and stroked a hand through his hair, cradling Athar’s head in his palm. He carefully avoided his mother’s gaze. Kara stood beside Logan and squeezed his shoulder.

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