Page 50 of Returned to the Vissigroth
She didn’t deny it. Didn’t try to fill the silence with words that would only fall short. Instead, she leaned into my palm, eyes glistening, and nodded once.
“I don’t remember,” she said softly, “but I feel it.”
And stars, that was everything.
Just as I was about to say something else, probably something foolish, a sharp knock against the tent post interrupted us. Not a literal knock, but that same clippedthumpof a boot heel I recognized as Myccael’s version of asking permission.
Daphne startled slightly. I murmured something soothing and shifted to pull the furs more securely around her as the tent flap swept aside.
“Hope you two are decent,” Myccael announced without looking up, already striding in like he owned the place—which, technically, he did.
Three attendants followed behind him, bearing covered trays and a silver carafe that steamed faintly. One by one, they set the food down near the low table before ducking out again, all brisk efficiency and zero curiosity.
Myccael dropped into a chair like a male with far too much on his mind to care whether he was interrupting. He lifted a piece of flatbread, tore into it with the confidence of someone who’d already moved on to planning three steps ahead.
“Good,” he said mid-chew, nodding at me. “You’re up. We’ve got more data from the drones.”
I glanced at Daphne, who was sitting up now, pulling her hair back with one hand, the furs still gathered modestly around her. She didn’t look particularly embarrassed, more quietly amused.
Unbothered, Myccael poured himself a cup of tea and continued. “They found another room through a passage branching off the northwest shaft. It looks like it could be some kind of armory. The inscriptions match the same pattern from the Zuten wall panel.”
I rubbed a hand across my jaw. “And?”
“And,” he said, pointing at the bread like it had personally helped him, “we’re widening the primary hole. I gave the order at first light. Should be ready by midmorning. We’ll go down then, so we can see it with our own eyes.”
“Who's going?” I asked.
“You, me, two guards, Zavahr. Mother, if she insists.” He shot her a look, one brow arched knowingly, and winked at me. Daphne, however, looked so pleased that I couldn't be mad at Myccael. Damn him.
She shrugged and teased. “I’ll decide after breakfast.”
Myccael grinned. We both knew that nothing would stop that seffy from going with us. Maybe Myccael was wiser of the two of us. By inviting her, he got pointers for a fight he would have lost otherwise. It was hard not to admire his shrewdness.
It was surreal how easily he moved between command and casual. Like the sight of me half-dressed, seated beside the mate I’d waited twenty rotations to touch again, was no more noteworthy than a change in the weather. And in a way, that was just like Myccael. Unapologetic. Purpose-driven. And too used to battlefields to flinch at anything less than blood.
I sat up straighter, accepting a plate of food one of the servants had brought. “Did they find anything else?”
He shook his head. “Nothing yet. Dragoons have been scouring the mountains for however the Eulachs are getting in and out."
"It might not matter, there's a chance we'll figure it out from the inside," Daphne suggested, stealing a piece of meat from my plate.
Myccael reached for a second slice of bread, this time slathering it with thick, golden cream. “You know,” he said, between bites, “I used to hate breakfast. Mallack tried to make me eat before training every morning. I’d fake nausea, claim my stomach couldn’t handle food before drills.”
Daphne gave him a mock-stern look over the rim of her cup. “And did it work?”
“Only once,” I grunted. “After that, I made him run laps until he was so dizzy he couldn’tnoteat.”
“I threw up halfway through,” Myccael added with a shrug. “He made me finish anyway.”
Daphne’s eyes danced with amused horror. “That sounds… awful.”
“It built character,” I replied dryly, then added, “And lungs of steel.”
“Which I never would’ve needed,” Myccael countered, “if someone hadn’t saddled me with twice the expectations.”
Daphne’s smile dimmed, just a little, and I felt the tension pull in her shoulders. But before either of us could speak, Myccael leaned back and added, more softly, “But it kept me alive. So I guess I owe you for that.”
I glanced at him, surprised by the seriousness in his tone. He met my eyes and then looked at Daphne. “Both of you, really.”
