Page 36 of Ember and Eclipse
She changed the line of questioning, not ready for the conversation to be over. “Have you ever fought with the God of War?”
“I have seen many unbelievable things in war, but a god fighting alongside mortals isn’t one. There is no divinity on the battlefield. Just death.”
“You don’t pray to him then, during battle?”
“I pray to no gods.”
She tilted her head. “Not even Selene?”
He searched the star-scattered sky for the moon. “I love her like one does any mother. And hate her in the same way. I beseech her like a son does when he needs the soft guidance of a matron’s hand. And I curse her in the same breath.”
The answer was surprisingly vulnerable and beautiful. When she only contemplated his response, her own gaze finding the moon—full and silver lusciousness, he asked, “And you?” And she was quite certain that was one of the first questions he had ever asked her about herself.
“I used to ask Hera for safety. But I’ve never been safe a day in my life. Several years ago, I started praying to the God of War for courage instead—”
He scoffed, but she continued, “And strength, but also for the will to do what needs to be done in order to keepmyselfsafe. Even if that meant killing those who would see me harmed. And then I asked Athena for wisdom to know when it must be done.”
“You really don’t know anything about witches and the gods, do you?”
She shook her head, expecting him to explain. There was an obvious dislike for the gods while in the Marsh Coven. But they mostly only ever mentioned the Mothers of witchkind with any sort of reverence.
His amused smirk disappeared, and he made a dismissive grunt of a noise. “It’s no matter. Does your God of War or Goddess of Wisdom ever answer?”
“No,” she said, “I don’t think they do.”
The hunter surprised her again by asking yet another question. “You said you were never safe a day in your life. Not even when you were practically a member of the high family?”
Especially then.But she didn’t expect him to understand so she merely shook her head.
They sat in a shared silence, the wind cutting through her cloak and leaching the warmth she had obtained from the drink.
“Hand me the Veritas again.”
“Careful, I don’t need you drunk. Nor will I believe you’re drunk this time,” he added in before tossing her the skin.
He tracked her movements as she drank again. The second time was no better than the first, and it took her several long moments before she could speak without spluttering.
“So, you’re gone from your pack a lot. One could say you’re a bit of a… lone wolf.”
He muttered a curse beneath his breath and then, “I liked it better when we didn’t talk. I could still gag you.”
“It’s too late—we’ve already started conversing. Now that I know you can do more than snarl and grumble.” And though it had been a joke, she questioned how true it was. Studying him beneath her lashes, she wondered, suddenly, if he ever felt alone. Did he ever see a shadow of a figure in his life? A shade with no name or face?
He didn’t respond, and she’d never know if the Veritas made her ask or her own bravery. “Are you ever lonely?” The words came out softly.
Devdan contemplated the question, the scrape of the knife’s edge on the whetstone and the crackling fire filling the space.
“It doesn’t bother me,” he finally responded. “I told you that pack relations and politics are confusing. I’m not close with anyone currently in my pack, and that’s how it’s been since I can remember. In fact, most of them openly hate me and would leave me for dead in a heartbeat if given the opportunity. The only way I could avoid being alone is if I had a mate. Witches don’t have such a bond, at least not in the same way, but Lunae do. Having a mate would mean family. A best friend, even. Unless, of course, she also wanted nothing to do with me.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You don’t have a mate?”
He stared at her for a long moment. “No, and I’m better for it.”
“Why?”
“I think you’ve long surpassed your five questions.”
She let out a heavy breath, her mouth tingling with the remaining effects from the Veritas. “We areconversing, Wolf, not counting questions.”
