“I never said I don’t have feelings for him. He broke a promise to me. I can’t trust him. Why would we continue if I can’t trust him?”
Drayce leaned close again. “No, what happened was, he fucked up.” He pointed a finger at Rayne, tapping the tip of his nose. “And you totally overreacted.”
Rayne opened his mouth to argue, but there was a soft knock on the door. Drayce’s heart skipped, hoping that it was Eno there to talk some sense into Rayne and soothe his ruffled feathers. Rayne’s eyes widened and he looked as if he were trying to decide whether he wanted to fight or flee.
Jumping to his feet, Drayce crossed the room and opened the door to reveal a worried Caelan.
“How is he?” he asked in a low voice.
Drayce grinned at his friend. “A grumpy idiot with a broken hand.”
“You can leave now, Drayce,” Rayne called from behind him.
“Why don’t you keep an eye on him while he tries to fix his hand?” Drayce suggested, ignoring Rayne completely.
Caelan nodded, and Drayce hoped that Rayne would either talk about his relationship with Eno or at least share his worries about Kaes and Tula. Either might be helpful right now.
He stepped aside so Caelan could enter the room and then he moved to the hallway. “How’s Eno?”
Caelan’s lips spread into a mischievous grin that Drayce longed to kiss right off his face. “A grumpy idiot who’s currently trying to see what we can possibly have for dinner that doesn’t involve rice.”
“All right, I’ll go make sure he doesn’t burn the house down.”
“Also, we heard from General Morgan.” The beautiful smile fell away, and Drayce immediately missed it. “She and Tomas are planning to be here tomorrow morning to start planning for the eviction of the Empire.”
He could only nod. They were out of time. Decisions had to be made, and Drayce was beginning to fear they wouldn’t be able to recognize the right ones any longer.
25
Caelan Talos
His head ached. He was just sorry it wasn’t from a night of heavy drinking with Drayce and Eno. Probably from having a god and goddess fighting for space in his body.
Since leaving the Godstone, he’d become a twitchy, edgy bundle of ragged nerves. It was as if the God of Storms and the Goddess of Life could not stand to share their brand new one-bedroom apartment. Shame he couldn’t give them each a sedative so he could relax.
Or at least figure out what to do about Eno and Rayne. They’d all managed to sit together for a civil meal last night, which began with him announcing that Rayne would be accompanying them to Zastrad. But the two men still barely looked at each other, never spoke directly to each other.
He wanted this fixed. Eno and Rayne butted heads on occasion, but it had never come to blows. The gods knew he never expected Rayne to be the one throwing punches if the moment did finally come. In the past, their disagreements had never lasted long. Deep down, he knew he had to let them work it out. That didn’t mean he had to like it.
As Drayce liked to joke, it sucked when mom and dad were fighting.
With a soft groan, Caelan stretched and rolled over. The sheets smelled stale and were scratchy, but the bed was at least somewhat comfortable. The house was also blessedly quiet, and no one was currently trying to kill him or his companions.
Despite growing up a prince, he was accustomed to living rough for a span of time when he was forced to travel to protect Erya or even help Ilon fight creatures that crawled out of the Ordas. That was nights of sleeping on the ground in tents, limited chances to bathe, and meager rations. He liked to consider himself a realist. He was adaptable. But he would kill for his own pillows and maybe something from his personal wardrobe. Nothing fancy. Jeans, T-shirt, and a new pair of socks.
Nope, never mind. He’d trade it all for one hour in his bathroom. A hot shower and his favorite brands of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. To be truly clean at last.
Ugh. He was a spoiled little prince.
He tried to bury his face in his pillow, hoping to drift off to sleep again. Maybe when he woke, the pounding in his skull would be gone. There was no chance of it.
The door to his bedroom was thrown open. He didn’t even look at who entered. His fingers instantly wrapped around the knife he’d placed under the pillow. Swinging toward the intruder, he prepared to let the knife loose, but he stopped himself at the last second. Drayce must have seen the flash of the blade in the early-morning light, because he was already dropping to the floor.
“Whoa! Whoa! It’s me!” he shouted, holding his hands up while crouched on the floor.