Kiera’s eyes glinted as brashly as the strand of claws and fangs clinking around her neck.
“Kiera Locklear,” Nima said in wonder. “You’re alive.”
“No thanks to any of you.” She spit at Nima’s sandaled feet.
Everyone froze. The lucionaga’s eyes jumped to my mother’s filigreed throat, probably assuming she would admonish the Daneelie for her slight with a handful of dust. My mother didn’t raise her hand, didn’t ball her fingers either. Calmly, she said, “Joshua’s waiting for you beyond the portal, Kiera. He’s very impatient to take you home. What do you say we get out of here?”
Kiera blinked. Because of Nima’s calmness, or because of the storm of emotion rising within her? If we’d already been in Neverra, I had no doubt the girl’s disquiet would’ve lacerated the sky with lightning. Nima looked over her shoulder at me and held out her hand. I took it, and together we walked out into the white light of the forever sunless, night-less sky.
I thought we would have to scale the cliff walls to reach the portal, but it had relocated itself, shimmering like a mirror right beyond the opening of the grotto. Lily and Giya slipped through first. Then Kiera and one of the guards. And then it was mine and Nima’s turn.
I wanted to clutch Remo’s hand, but sensed my mother wouldn’t let me go. Not until I was safely home. As my fingertips touched the gelatinous surface, I turned my head.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he murmured, knowing exactly the direction of my thoughts.
I melted through the inky darkness between the worlds with my head still angled toward Remo and didn’t look anywhere else until the broad lines of his body formed on a framed painting of Neverra cloaked in mist.
45
New Regime
“Amara!” My father’s voice made my attention whizz off the painting and the redheaded boy who’d just climbed out of it.
He stood beside Kajika, Lily, and my cousins by a bay window that gave onto the Gorge of Portals. So Joshua had been right about yet something else . . . the portal did relocate.
I raced toward my father and flung my arms around his neck. His answering hug was bone-crushing. “Oh, Iba.” I thought I’d been done crying but nope. In seconds, my cheeks were damp again. Unlike in Gregor’s prison, though, my tears evaporated almost as fast as they fell. “I missed you so much.”
His chest gave a violent shudder. “Oh, amoo.”
I closed my eyes, relishing the steel of his hug. “I found Kingston, Iba,” I whispered. “You were right. Gregor didn’t kill him.”
He pressed me away, holding me at arm’s length. “Son of a . . . Where’s that scheming brother of mine?”
“Dead. He’s dead.”
“I thought—”
Giya draped her arm around my shoulder. “Amara fed him the apple.”
“The apple?” My father’s tired blue eyes roamed between us.
“If wita and beheading had a love child, it would come in the form of a red apple.” Giya rubbed her stomach, then added under her breath, “Don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m never eating apples again.”
I smiled while Iba just blinked, first with shock, then with pride.
“I’m so sorry the task befell you, amoo,” he finally said.
Sook’s head bobbed above Iba’s shoulder, and a small sound escaped my lips. “Sook!”
“Hey, cuz.”
I jumped at his neck, hugging him tight. “Thank you for coming after me.”
“Like I could let you have all the fun.”
“Fun?” I barked out a laugh. “Yeah, sooo much fun. I’m still not sure what I liked best, the torture or that damn mud field.”
“I’m pretty sure I know what you liked best,” Giya said, and although I loved her unconditionally, I briefly considered strangling her.
I shot her a smile that promised retribution, then, before Sook or Iba could ask what she was insinuating, I blurted out, “Heard you were ingested by a shark, Sookie.”
Instead of flinching, my cousin’s grin grew and grew, eating up half his face. “But did you hear the part where I fileted the pistri using a rusted anchor?”
I wrinkled my nose whereas Giya shook her head and the adults’ complexions went from pale to white.
“Ace?” Cruz’s voice cut across the apartment, silencing every conversation, stilling every chest.
My father froze, and then slowly, slowly turned around. He looked first at Nima, then at his sister, as though questioning if they also saw him. When both women smiled, he finally unglued the soles of his leather boots and stalked toward the man who’d been more of a brother to him than Kingston.
His shoulders stiffened, then shook, and then they rolled forward. As he embraced his long-lost friend, I wondered if Iba was shedding tears or plotting Gregor’s murder. Surely both.
My aunt broke away from my uncle and walked over to my mother, clutching her elbow. Where Neenee’s cheeks still shone with tears, Nima’s were finally dry, but her eyes belied her stoicism, their shine rivaling the sapphire-encrusted table next to me. Clearly, whoever owned the apartment was wealthy.
Smiling, I let my gaze drift over the little assembly until I found Remo sandwiched between Silas and his mother, no Karsyn or Gregor in sight. He’d traded his navy pants for his customary black lucionaga uniform, which made me feel particularly frumpy. Before I could scroll through my Infinity band, his eyes met mine over his stepfather’s shoulder. He leaned over, whispered something in his ear, then cut across the room toward where I stood with Giya, Sook, and Geemee. Out of everyone, my uncle looked the worst for wear, anxiety gnawing at his uncharacteristically wan features. Was he jealous? Did he fear he was about to lose Lily? I’d never doubted my aunt’s affections, but I’d also heard Cruz and Lily had shared something special . . .
I watched Neenee, wondering if the life she’d built could crumble, because her old—or rather, young—flame was back, but suddenly Sook stepped in front of me, and I could no longer see her. When I realized why he’d done it, to block Remo, I shooed my worry for my aunt and uncle and bustled around my cousin.
“Sook, Remo’s my . . .” I looked up into my fiancé’s golden eyes trying to decide which term to use, but then became distracted by his irises. I missed the green, but not because it changed his appearance . . . because it was the color of the eyes that had watched over me during our imprisonment.
“Friend?” Sook supplied dubiously.
He was way more than that.
Giya squeezed my shoulder. “What Amara’s trying to say is that we like Remo now.”
“We do?” Sook asked, directing the question at me.
“Yeah, we do.” I smiled. “Your eyes are gold.”
Remo seemed to be drinking mine in, even though their color hadn’t changed. The corner of his mouth tipped up. “And yours are blue. Shall we move on to hair?”
I laughed. Amidst all the awful memories of prison, that had been a good one. I reached for his hand even though I wanted to push up on tiptoe and reach for his mouth.
“Amara Wood, we meet again.” The familiar voice made my gaze leap off Remo, who’d become as stiff as the buffed black marble beneath our feet. Joshua Locklear stood, one arm draped over his sister’s shoulder. She seemed so slight and small beside him. “Looking a little bedraggled, but still hot.”
Remo’s fist crunched into the Daneelie’s jaw, sending his face flying to the side.
As Josh pivoted back toward us, his brows slanted viciously beneath his sideswept blond bangs. “Back the fuck off, Farrow, or you’ll be cleaning urinals for the rest of your lucionaga career.”
Remo grunted. “Like you have any power.”
“Actually, I do.” Josh beamed. “You’re looking at Neverra’s brand-new draca.”
“You’re shitting me,” Sook said.
That’s when I realized that Josh’s eyes were green instead of blue. “Wicked, huh?”
Wicked wasn’t the first word that came to mind.
&
nbsp; “Who the hell was cracked enough to make you draca?” Giya sputtered.
Kiera sent her a sharp glare.
“Why, Massin Wood. Apparently, our dearest king will do anything for his daughter.” He tossed me a wink that vanished behind thickening swirls of sparkling smoke. The lines of his body changed, becoming almost too wide and tall for the high-ceilinged apartment, and then black scales slicked over his skin like an oil spill.
Kiera took in her brother’s new form, from his long muzzle to his pointed horns, with a squeak of surprise. Chuffing, he extended his fibrous black wings and lowered his neck, an invitation for her to climb aboard. It took her a minute to react, but as soon as she understood, she hurled herself onto him like Cruz had hurled himself atop the tigri the first time we’d met. Tucking his clawed paws into his abdomen, Josh took off, flying so fast toward the window that when his horns hit the curved glass, the entire pane shattered.
Outside the calimbor, lightning slashed the Neverrian firmament, weakening the glow of stars. I imagined I was responsible for the weather, although it was entirely possible Kiera and her dragon brother had provoked the storm.
Once my ears had stopped ringing from anger, broken glass, and thunder, I swung toward my father, bumping into Remo. “You made Joshua Locklear draca, Iba?”
I wasn’t sure if I was shaking with anger or if Remo was, since his chest was flush with my shoulder blades. Maybe we both shook.
Iba stared out the broken window. “He was the only person who knew where you were and would only volunteer the information against a gajoï.”
Had that been Josh’s end goal all along? I doubted he was smart enough to have planned that far ahead, but damn, had my disappearance been convenient. Again, I lamented asking for his help. Sure it had brought me close to Remo, and we’d found Cruz, and killed Kingston, but now Joshua had an inordinate amount of power and weight. Skies only knew what he would do with it.
Iba approached me slowly. “It was either that or your hand. I chose not to sacrifice you a second and final time.” His gaze darted to Remo, whose heart seemed to beat more violently against my tensed spine.
“You have no reason to apologize, Iba.”
“I do, Amara. I should never—” He faltered and cleared his throat. “I should never have forced your hand into the Cauldron in the first place. I should never have told you about my suspicions about Kingston.”
“It’s not your fault I ended up in that prison, Iba.” I wanted to add that I wasn’t angry about the first part, but I didn’t want to have this conversation in front of so many people. “Is Gregor still wariff?”
Iba dragged his palms down the length of his face. “No.”
“Who is then?” Giya asked.
Silas crossed over to us, his shoulder-length hair unbound. More gray had threaded itself through the brown, our disappearance indubitably the source of these silvering strands. He stopped beside Iba. “I am.”
Relief washed over me. “Thank Gejaiwe.”
Remo sucked in a breath. I took it that was news to him, too. Good news, since his quaking had lessened.
“Joshua might be draca,” Iba added, “but I am still king.” His face was set with the confidence and calm of someone who knew how to do his job, and do it well.
“We’ll keep him in line,” Silas added.
“Where’s Gregor?” I asked.
Silas stared around the apartment, and it struck me it might be Gregor’s—so garishly fancy, and that painting of Neverra. Who else longed to immortalize Neverra with the mist? “Awaiting his trial,” he finally said.
I peeked over my shoulder, found the vein at Remo’s temple distending, found his fingers balled into fists.
“Now, I know you’re all tired, but Silas and I would really like to hear what you kids have endured these last three weeks,” Iba said.
Three weeks? We’d been gone three weeks?
Silas dismissed the lucionaga in attendance until only my family and Remo’s remained. Oh, and Cruz. He was still there, arms crossed, standing on the outskirts of our tight-knit circle. He’d find his place eventually.
As my eyes swung back toward my father, they caught on my aunt, tucked into the crook of Geemee’s tattooed arm, her cheek pressed into his chest. As I watched them, reassurance washed over me. What they shared, what they’d built was solid and beautiful and would withstand the return of Cruz Vega.
Nima threaded her fingers through Iba’s. “It’s just us. You can speak freely.”
Where to begin?
Without missing a beat, Giya said, “Well, Sook was eaten by a shark.”
Even though it wasn’t really funny, I burst out laughing. She too laughed. Sook grinned but shoved his sister, which earned him a glower from his father. Finally, the tension on Remo’s face dissipated. He didn’t smile, but his golden eyes sparkled, and then his hand found the curve of my hip.
Which of course drew both our parents’ attention and filled my face with so much heat I wanted to pierce my skin and let some steam out. In a way, though, I was glad for that tiny gesture. Glad that no-strings-attached Remo apparently came with strings of his own.
We detailed every trial, listened to Giya and Sook recount their own adventures, and then Cruz was put on the spot. His eyes sort of glazed over as he recounted his story. Once we were done talking, the silence that fell over the adults was thick and bleak.
“Oh, and Iba, none of our powers worked.” I didn’t mention Karsyn’s dust, preferring to discuss him later and privately.
My father stared and stared, nerves feathering his jaw. “Silas, find out how that’s possible.”
The new wariff nodded, contempt and worry stamped into the furrows of his forehead.
He began to turn when Sook asked, “What will happen to Gregor?”
Silas and Iba exchanged a grave look.
“What do you suggest?” Iba asked.
Remo’s hand tensed on my hip.
“Stick him inside his prison,” Sook suggested.
Iba bobbed his head, storing that suggestion.
“He kept Kingston alive, massin.” Remo’s voice was as sharp as the dagger I’d produced the day we’d wandered through the inn . . . the one he’d called a butter knife. “That’s treason.”
Faith gasped, because we all knew how treason was punished.
Iba stared at Remo as though seeing him for the first time.
“But your grandfather also kept me alive, Remo,” Cruz said slowly.
“He should’ve freed you as soon as Lily reentered Neverra!” Remo snapped.
Iba observed them both quietly.
“But then he would’ve had to reveal his prison.” Cruz was so cool and collected.
I didn’t get it. If I’d been him, I would’ve been incensed. I would’ve demanded Gregor’s ashes. I would’ve requested to exact justice myself.
“If I may make a suggestion, Ace.” Cruz stared at the golden circlet gleaming atop my father’s head. “Have him erase his prison, then lock him out of Neverra. He was born on Earth, so once his fire burns out, his blood will sustain him a couple more years.”
My father looked steadily at his friend. Even though he was two decades younger, he was clearly as wise as his biological age. “Does that seem fair to everyone?”
I placed a hand on top of Remo’s. “I think he should be stripped of his dust.”
“Agreed,” my cousins said in unison.
“Remo? Faith?” my father asked. “Do you have any objections?”
I felt the torment swirling through Remo’s body. Saw the little knots of tension forming in Faith’s neck.
“No, massin,” Remo said.
Faith flinched but ended up shaking her head.
“Then it is decided.” Iba sighed and pressed himself away from the edge of the sparkling sapphire table he’d leaned against during our recounting. “Silas?”
“Yes, Ace?”
“Can you help Cruz settle in? I think he may like one of the stilt ho
uses on the Pink Sea, but it’s up to him.” Iba stared at his friend again, then went to him and squeezed his shoulder. “I’m coming by to see you later. If that’s all right with you?”
Cruz’s wavy locks fell into his eyes. “When has answering in the negative kept you away? Do you respect people’s wishes now?” His tone was playful, and yet I watched my father’s face for a reaction.
When a smile crept over his mouth, followed by a bark of laughter, I released a short breath. “How would I have gotten Cat if I took no for an answer?”
He winked at Nima who shook her head but grinned.
As though remembering others were present, he shot all of us, but especially Remo, an eloquent stare. “No means no, children. Are we clear?”
Remo’s fingers tensed, which made me smirk.
As my parents took off toward the door, they called out, “Amara?”
I sensed they wanted to have a little chat about the nature of the proprietary hand on my hip. To Remo, I murmured, “I’ll comm you,” then I hugged Sook and Giya. “Thank you for having my back. I love you guys.”
“Shut up,” Giya said, her tone distorted by emotion.
As she knuckled a tear from her eye, I caught Cruz staring at her, the smile gone from his mouth, replaced by some other look. Giya didn’t notice. I didn’t think anyone but me noticed. When our eyes met, his shot to the buffed marble beneath his bare, sandy feet.
Huh . . .
Maybe Cruz would disrupt Lily and Kajika’s future, just not in the way I’d imagined. Or maybe the romantic in me was reading way too much into the attention he’d paid Giya.
On the platform outside the front door, my mother hooked her hands around my father’s neck as he cradled her and soared into the lustrium-flecked darkness. The brewing storm had receded and given way to a glorious violet sky. I’d always liked nighttime but had a new appreciation for it after the endless white.
As I stood on the overhanging deck, I gazed out at my kingdom with its reflective portals and dusty-rose ocean, its tall gray cliffs and swirls of starlight. Faeries were out tonight, like every night, but somehow there seemed to be more bodies crowding the sky. Many hovered around the calimbor, but none too close, kept back by a belt of bobbing lucionaga. I closed my eyes and took a long, deep breath of freedom, savoring the warmth flickering inside my veins, and then I dove.
Reckless Cruel Heirs Page 36
