A faint grin appeared, but he froze. His gaze flicked over my shoulder. A moment later, I heard a knock. “Come in.”
I twisted in my chair as the doors opened to reveal Saion.
“There is…a problem at the gates,” he said, and a wicked sense of déjà vu swept through me.
“Elaborate,” Nyktos ordered, closing the tome.
Saion sent me a quick glance. “The Cimmerian are here.”
I tensed as Nyktos sat. I’d learned of the Cimmerian during my studies. They were lesser gods a couple of generations removed from Attes, the Primal of Accord and War, and Kyn, the Primal of Peace and Vengeance. Gods born fully formed as warriors. There were even legends about them being brought forth during mortal wars by Kings brave—or foolish—enough to summon either Attes or Kyn. “Why would Attes or Kyn send warriors here?”
“Not all Cimmerian serve Attes and Kyn. Some serve in other Courts. These have come from Hanan’s,” Saion shared, and my stomach dropped.
Nyktos glanced at Saion as he replaced the tome and opened another drawer. “Where’s Bele?”
“With Aios,” Saion answered. “Nektas is taking Jadis and Reaver to them.”
“Good. Bele will not leave the younglings.” Nyktos grabbed straps that went around his waist and chest, designed to hold swords and other sharp, pointy weapons. “How many are at the gates?”
“About a hundred,” Saion said.
“Fuck,” Nyktos growled.
“Most of the guards are on the Rise along Lethe as you requested, keeping an eye on the Black Bay.” Lamplight from a nearby sconce glanced over the rich, black skin of Saion’s cheek as he cocked his head. “There are only about a dozen here. So, if things go south…”
“And if they do go south?” I rose as Nyktos opened a cabinet door and slid out a long, wide shelf full of weapons. “I’ve seen what you’re capable of—”
“Cimmerian are not your run-of-the-mill gods. Using eather around them feeds their abilities,” Saion said.
“Like the dakkais?” I asked.
“The dakkais want to devour those with eather in them, butthe Cimmerian pull strength from it. The essence amplifies their abilities. Makes them stronger.” Nyktos withdrew a sword, strapping it to his back so the handle pointed down, and leaving me to wonder exactly how deep the credenza was. “And they don’t fight like anyone you’ve ever seen.”
Dread quickly blossomed. “Howdothey fight?”
“They can summon shrouds of night to blind their opponents,” Saion told me. “The kind that not even Nyktos can see through.”
My heart kicked against my ribs. That hadnotbeen in any of my studies. “And they would try to fight you?” When Nyktos didn’t answer, I twisted to Saion. “Will they?”
Saion nodded. “Fighting is one of the few things that seem to bring those fuckers any joy. They’re willing to fight with just about anyone, including Primals.”
Nyktos slid a dagger into the strap across his chest and another into his boot. “I want you to stay here.”
“I can help,” I protested. “I can fight—”
“She really can fight,” another voice chimed in from the hall. “And with most of the guards—”
“Ector?” Nyktos cut in.
There was a beat of silence, and then the fair-haired, sharp-featured god appeared in the doorway. “Yes?”
Nyktos pinned him with a cold stare. “This is one of those times I’ve discussed with you onmultipleoccasions.”
I frowned.
“When I need to…” Ector cleared his throat. “Shut the fuck up?”
“Exactly.” Nyktos stalked out from behind the desk, securing a short sword to his waist. “I know you can fight. This isn’t about that. We could be wrong about why they are here, especially with the draken attack and the coronation taking place the day after tomorrow. If someone is attempting to take you, they know I will have little support in retaliation if you’re not my Consort. They could be here for you, and I don’t want to make that easier for them. Stay here, Seraphena.”