Page 22 of Queen of Whispers and Mist

What else was new?

It would almost be laughable if it wasn’t so fucking tragic. They’d made progress, real progress, finding their way back to one another, only to end up back where they started because of whatever mental magic Erebos had spun.

And ithadto be magic—there was no other explanation for the level of brainwashing the bastard achieved in such a short amount of time. Compulsion like that... Ronan had never seen its like. Though come to think of it, there had been tales passed down of Kiris who lacked Helena’s benevolence and used their gifts to force truths from reluctant civilians or to influence political allies.

The Mother’s chosen Vessel may not always be kind or just, but one thing each and every one had in common was access to the rare and powerful Spirit branch. Similar to the other magic branches with their ties to the elements, the Spirit branch was linked to the soul—the very flicker of life within all living beings. It was also known as the Mother’s branch because only the creation goddess herself and those few women she’d hand selected to be her earthly representatives had access to it.

If Ronan didn’t know better, he would have said Erebos was a Spirit weaver. Which was ridiculous because not only was he male—when no male in history hadeverwielded the Mother’s magic—but it would mean Luna had selectedhimover every other person in existence.

Ronan nearly laughed at the absurdity of it; he couldn’t think of someone more undeserving of the honor. There simply wasn’t a person alive he’d trust less with the power of the gods.

An uncomfortable prickling crept up his neck, and it took a heartbeat for him to identify what about that thought set off a discordant note in his mind.

He’d said gods. Plural.

A memory stirred at his unconscious word choice. Something about the nameless ancients. But try as he might, Ronan couldn’t bring it into focus. Which wasn’t surprising, really. Schooling had never been his thing, religion and history least of all, so the likelihood of him recalling such a detail was hopeless at best. He’d been half feral as a child, running around and going off on the sort of adventures only a young boy could appreciate. Getting him to sit still and not only attend lessons but actually pay attention to them was a fruitless endeavor.

Still... he’d bet Reyna’s prized dagger there was something important about that distinction. If only he could remember what it was.

“Ronan?”

The captain’s use of his name, combined with her amused tone, pulled him from his thoughts. Heat crawled up his neck and into his face when he realized he’d been standing there like a mute halfwit staring off into space while the two women had delved into conversation.

Mother’s tits, man. You are never going to win her back like this. Get your fucking act together before you lose her for good this time.

“Apologies, my mind wandered.”

“I can see that.” Calypso’s disconcerting gaze roamed over his face, likely reading far more in his expression than he was comfortable with if the laughter quirking her lips was any indication.

He could only meet one of her eyes due to the patch concealing her left one, but the orb had already changed colors twice since they’d started speaking. What started off a gleaming silver had bled to sky blue before settling into bright sapphire. Ronan was too familiar with Helena’s magical quirks not to recognize them in another, but Glinta had warned him not to go around asking too many questions about the captain or her crew.

“They’s private folk. Don’t go poking your nose ‘round where it ain’t belong. People have a habit of disappearing when they get too curious. You hear me?”

Warning in mind, Ronan opted not to ask what else she could see—because with an eye such as that, there was no way she was limited to that which was right in front of her. Instead, he opted for the far more neutral, “It would seem the two of you got on just fine without me.” He kept his attention trained on Calypso, waiting for Shadow to acknowledge him in some way. Generally he wasn’t one to walk on eggshells, but since he wasn’t sure where her head was at or what she remembered, giving her space to set the tone seemed safest for all involved.

“When do women everneeda man to insert themselves into a conversation?” the captain challenged with a raised brow.

“Precisely my point. I was minding my manners,” Ronan said, recognizing the trap and wisely retreating. He’d been Helena’s right hand for far too long to wade into that verbal quicksand.

“Manners? Oh, that’s pretty,” Calypso said with a husky laugh. “What good are those on the sea?”

“They’ve served me well thus far.”

“Hmmm... I do love a man that knows how to serve.” A subtle gleam entered the woman’s eye as she let her gaze roam down his torso.

As attuned to her as he was, Ronan didn’t miss the way Shadow’s body tensed at the captain’s blatant appraisal.

Say something, please. Make your claim, kitten. Unsheathe your dagger and tell her in no uncertain terms that it’s your name burned on my soul.

But she didn’t. Of course she didn’t.

Ronan was ready to walk headlong into the sail’s rigging. A head wound would be less traumatic than this constant uncertainty. How many times would he be forced to lose her before she’d be his to keep?

When he couldn’t take it any longer, he turned to Shadow, bracing himself for her anger but wholly unprepared for the indifference staring back at him. He would have preferred it if she’d kneed him in the balls. Physical pain he could handle, and anger was at least a twin to passion. But indifference? It was as if he meant nothing to her at all.

He couldn’t go backward. Not again.

He wouldn’t survive losing her another time.

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