Page 10 of Prisoner of Steel and Shadow

“Figure it out,” he growled.

The door opened, and Ronan didn’t even realize he’d stopped breathing until Effie’s blonde curls appeared instead of Helena’s chestnut waves.

What in the Mother’s name is keeping her?

Effie spotted him and beelined in his direction, Lucian right behind her.

“My, how you’ve perfected that glower, Ro.”

He spared Effie a side-eyed glance but didn’t comment.

“You know, for a man who was just given what could arguably be described as the best news of his life, you’re acting quite pissy.”

“Pissy?”

“Oh dear, is your hearing failing you?” Effie tutted softly. “Poor lamb. I’ve been told it’s the first to go. Right after the hair.”

He raised a brow, knowing exactly what she was up to. It may have been a while since they’d played the game, but not so long that he couldn’t recognize the opening salvo. They’d done it often enough, taking jabs at one another until one or both would break. Break, in this case, meaning burst into laughter. It had been their way of bringing one another back into the light after a particularly difficult day. He didn’t think anything short of holding Reyna in his arms would pull him out of the darkness he’d been living in these last years, but he appreciated Effie’s attempt all the same.

“My hearing and hair are perfect, thank you very much.”

She reached out, curling her small hand around his. “Peace, Ronan. I know you are chomping at the bit to go to her, but we have time enough for this. I promise you.”

“That’s not what you said before. I believe your exact words were ‘time is of the essence.’”

“And it is, but another few hours will not affect the outcome.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Her eyes flashed with blue fire, and though pitched low and only for him, her voice was brimming with power. “I have Seen it. You have many trials ahead of you, Butcher. But you are finally on the path you’ve been seeking. Stay the course.”

Ronan stiffened, making note of her word choice. Butcher,notShield.No one in this room knew of his dark persona, but he should have guessed nothing would remain a secret from Effie.

But that wasn’t what concerned him right now.

If she was referring to him as the Butcher, it meant he would need to play the monster in order to succeed. In many ways, that was a relief. Ronan wasn’t sure he knew how to be a hero anymore.

As far as hints went, it was a mere breadcrumb, but he wasn’t thickheaded enough to ignore it. Effie had been annoyingly tight-lipped on the details of her vision. Other than assuring him Reyna was very much alive and that they’d yet to find her because she was no longer on this continent, she refused to say anything else.

When he’d pushed the issue, she’d given him an infuriatingly calm response.

“To tell you more is to risk the outcome. I will give you what you need to begin your journey. The rest is up to you.”

“What good are you and your fucking visions if you’re not going to share anything of actual use?”

Effie had laughed at him then. He’d heard her shout similar words at her mate when she’d undergone trials of her own, so he took her laughter to mean she appreciated his exasperation rather than it being at his expense. Ronan also understood she’d share more if she could, but he still resented her withholding details that could potentially aid his quest.

This journey, as she called it, had already lasted five years. How much fucking longer did he have to wait?

She must have sensed his mounting frustration because her hand tightened around his. “Take it from me. Specifics impede the true message. I once knew two men who received similar visions. The first was fed nothing but details, but they were out of context and ultimately misinterpreted. He went mad obsessing over what he’d Seen. While the other man, the one who knew next to nothing and only had a mere possibility to guide him, ultimately succeeded in getting everything he yearned for.”

“It wasn’t possibility driving him,” Lucian corrected.

Effie raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“It was hope.”

The lovers shared a look so filled with tender devotion that Ronan’s chest ached. He had to look away, their happiness too painful to bear. When he finally dared to glance back at them, Lucian’s eyes were locked on his. The Guardian didn’t say a thing, and yet Ronan knew he was relaying a message. A second later, the man’s earlier words echoed in his mind.

---