Page 44 of Returned to the Vissigroth
The scent of hot food drifted into the air: smoked meats, sweetbread, and that spiced tea the Leanders loved that alwaysmade me sneeze. Platters were set out. Cups poured. Dishes placed with ritualistic care. I heard Myccael mutter something aboutat least one of them has shame, and then hesnorted.
Gods help me.
Eventually, the last tray clinked into place, followed by a shuffle of boots and polite coughs. Then the tent flap lifted again, quietly this time, and the servants made their exit.
A heavy silence followed.
Myccael’s voice, perfectly amused and absolutely infuriating, announced, “I’ll just be sitting over here until the two of you are…decent.”
Mallack shifted under me and spoke to my hidden form. “You know we have to move eventually.”
“Or,” I whispered into his chest, “you could kill me now. Make it quick. It would be a mercy.”
His voice was deep and hoarse, with a hint of amusement, “If I ever had reason to regret you being returned to me,” he murmured, “this isn’t it.”
His words affected me more than I could have explained, even if someone put a sword to my throat. I was grateful that he didn’t rush me. That he gave me all the time in the world to gather my bearings, and eventually, I peeked out from under the furs like a dying vole and found the tent filled with golden morning light. A very smug-looking susserayn sat at a small, elegantly laid table, sipping tea like a male waiting for gossip to bloom.
Mallack sat up behind me and stretched, unconcerned. Smug bastard. Then he rose to his feet in one fluid motion, offering me a hand. I took it only because I had no dignity left anyway.
We joined Myccael at the table, and I tried very hard to ignore the way his eyes sparkled with unspoken laughter as I took my seat. The moment I lifted my tea, the steam fogged my vision, which was probably a blessing.
Then the strangest thing happened. We ate.
Like a family.
Despite all the awkwardness leading up to it—for all the heat still lingering in my cheeks—I couldn’t stop the small warmth that bloomed deep inside me. The clink of dishes. The back-and-forth rhythm of conversation. Mallack's low, gravelly voice. Myccael’s quick sarcasm. Even their occasional disagreement had a music to it that felt oddly familiar.
It was like I was cocooned again. This time, by the love I felt coming off both males, for each other and for me.
They began discussing the day’s plans. About the other sites Tovahr had drilled. They speculated that one of them might be connected to another buried air pocket or even a city. Mallack wanted to see for himself. They discussed teams. Terrain. Timelines.
“I’m coming too,” I said, mid-bite.
Both heads turned to look at me.
“I mean it,” I added, brushing a crumb from my lip. “If there’s more of those…holes, and if that has anything to do with why I was… awakened, then I need to be there.”
Myccael looked to Mallack, who stared at me. His expression said everything before he opened his mouth, so I added in a confident voice, "I won't stay behind."
Iwasn’t happy.
But then again, I wouldn’t have been happy if she’d stayed behind either.
It was the kind of no-win scenario only the gods found amusing. Either I brought Daphne with us into potential danger, or I left her behind in a camp full of strange faces, with no guarantee that whatever had stirred beneath the Pyme mountains wouldn’t come clawing toward her first.
So. She rode with us.
At least this way I could keep an eye on her the entire damn time.
The morning sun filtered through the trees in shafts of gold as we rode. The air was crisp and carried that sharp scent of cold soil and moss. Dragoons flanked us on all sides, silent and alert, armor gleaming in the light. Their eyes constantly scanned the horizon, but I knew half of them were watchingher. She was the susserayn’s mother. My mate. A resurrected mystery. Andthough no one dared speak of it aloud, there was an unease around her. Reverence mixed with awe.
Daphne rode just ahead of me, upright in the saddle, her braid bouncing between her shoulder blades with each step of her nicta. She didn’t look fragile. She looked… determined. Steady. I wished she were in front of me sharing my nicta, but she was a lady, the susserayn's mother; it was only fitting for her to ride alone.
Her presence set my blood humming. The way she had always done and always would. My desire for her was more than simple lust. Waking up with her in my arms this morning. It had been a gift—another gift from the gods. It had reminded me of all the good times we had had. It had also reminded me that I hadn't allowed myself to think much about those days. Mostly when I thought about her, I thought about what I had lost. How Thalia would have loved to meet her, and Daphne, Thalia. I had thought about her last rotations, melancholic and sad. But that hadn't been my Daphne. My Daphne was right here; she might still be a little off because she didn't remember, but when I saw the laughter in her eyes, the mortification this morning when Myccael walked in, the way she looked at Myccael as her son,thatwas my Daphne. When she died, I hadn't been only robbed of her physical presence, I hadn't allowed myself to think about her the way she deserved to be thought about. I had remembered the Daphne who had retreated from the world, instead of the one who had been so full of laughter. Who teased me relentlessly.
We crested the ridge above the first drilling site, and Tovahr called a halt. The ground was barren here, filled with large slabs of rock. I had ridden over them I didn't know how many times and had never seen them as anything but as slabs of rock. Now,though, I wondered. Were they too polished? Too even? Had these once been walls holding up a building?
I helped Daphne down, who looked around curiously. Tovahr pointed out a large hole, and I made sure Daphne stayed well away from it.
