Immortals After Dark Book 16 - Page 119

“I failed to assassinate the Valkyrie. And now I can never kill her.”

“Thousands have tried. None would have succeeded.”

Rune faced him. “Then why dispatch me?”

Orion kept his gaze ahead, as if scanning for something. “We fail; we learn. Unless we fail to learn.”

Should Rune tell him about Apparitia? Surely this was just a dream. Maybe his subconscious was rehearsing for this very conversation. In any case, Rune had trusted and believed in Orion for ages. By suspecting the worst, Rune would not only be doubting his liege; he’d be doubting his own judgment.

Rune would choose to believe . . . in himself. “My mate hailed from Apparitia.”

Orion turned his head. “You want to know if I destroyed it. What do you think?”

“I think you didn’t.”

The black of Orion’s eyes glimmered a strange, wondrous color. A hint of the being’s satisfaction?

Good, then. Rune had been right, could feel the truth. Then he frowned. Was that color a clue to Orion’s ancestry?

No, no, that couldn’t be right.

“Ever loyal archer.” Orion gave the subtlest nod. “You could have taken the hybrids and run.”

“I trust in this. In you. In our mission.” To save the worlds.

“In time, your mate will look into my gaze and know the answer for herself.”

“But there’s more. I can’t harvest information as I have in the past—because I will never be untrue to her. Already threats arise that I can’t contain.” Nïx had said her warlocks were working to keep the Møriør out of Gaia. Warlocks were notorious for sacrificing nymphs to old gods. But Rune’s informant pool was now gone.

Orion faced the star-shaped table. “How many wolves sit among us?”

Rune frowned again. “One.”

“How many witches?”

“One.”

“Archers?”

One.

Orion had never called him anything but archer, even when Rune had possessed no skill. Rune had worked for millennia to become the best bowman in all the worlds—to be worthy of the name.

Yet even after he’d become the best, he still hadn’t become the archer.

Recognition overwhelmed Rune. “I sit at that table as the Møriør’s archer.” He had become worthy of the name; he’d just never realized it.

“Your arrows are far-reaching. Your arrows are silent. Archers fight from the front line and from the shadows, do they not?”

Assassin and front line. Those are my strengths. Those are my skills. Before, Rune had taken on tasks he’d thought should fall to him, the former whore.

Orion nodded as if Rune had spoken. “The archer’s undoing was how he saw himself.” Orion the Undoing saw weaknesses.

Rune had diminished himself, assigning his own skewed values.

He was about to ask if he was the primordial, then he realized it didn’t matter.

Orion’s lips curled. “Exactly.”

A stray thought: He steers us as Nïx steers her army. If Rune had been concerned about the Valkyrie’s savvy, he was no longer. Orion couldn’t be stopped—

Rune jerked awake. Had Josephine moaned? She was twisting in the sheets, her brow furrowed, her outline flickering.

Nightmare? He’d burdened her with so many memories of torture and pain. . . .

She started to grow intangible. Then to rise. Sleep-ghosting—she’d warned him about this!

“Wake, Josie!” He dove for her hand. To tether her. She grasped his in sleep.

He began to disembody with her. “Whoa, you need to wake up, love!” His voice sounded faint and ghostly.

His heart thundered when they began to levitate. “You have to rouse yourself!”

Her eyes were squeezed closed, her body limp. They ascended past the ceiling. Past the roof. Into the night.

“Josephine!” he bellowed. They were drifting through the rain into the storm clouds. Higher. Higher. She wasn’t going to wake!

Then so be it. “Josephine, understand me—wherever we’re going . . . we’re going to be together.” He pulled her close and kissed her.

SEVENTY-THREE

Jo blinked open her eyes. Rune was kissing her? When she stiffened against him, he drew his head back.

“Dream?” she asked.

His brows were drawn, eyes wild. “Not quite.”

She frowned. She wasn’t in bed? No, he was outside with her. The air felt really thin. And cold. She peered up. The stars burned bright.

Too bright.

She met his gaze—read their situation from the alarm in his expression. “I sleep-ghosted?”

“Yes, love.” He swallowed. “Up.”

She didn’t want to look. “Wh-where are we?”

He gave a curt nod. In other words, Yes, it’s that bad.

“Why are you with me?”

He grated, “Because that’s where I bloody belong.”

She peered down. Sucked in a breath. Panicked.

She started to embody, her stomach lurching as they plummeted.

As soon as she’d solidified enough, Rune coiled his arms around her and traced them to her bed.

“Ah, gods, Josephine.” He tucked her into his lap, his lungs heaving.

“Wh-what happened?” Panting, she clung to him, savoring his heat and strength, inhaling his scent.

“We went for a trip.” His heart pounded at her ear.

“I took you with me?”

With his chin on her head, he nodded. “You turned intangible and began to rise. I tried to wake you, barely catching your grip in time.” He pressed his lips against her hair.

Chapter end