“Yes. Perfectly fine. The roots… moved.” He straightened and brushed loose bark from his clothes.
I snorted. “Yeah, roots tend to do that.”
He glowered. I grinned. He pushed me, and I toppled backward onto a patch of damp moss.
“Giddy!” I squawked in outrage, and oh, how he laughed.
By the time I was on my feet, sweeping dirt from my jeans, he was already walking ahead. I glared daggers into his back as I jogged to catch up.
As I fell into step beside him, he cleared his throat. “I never thought it would happen for me. A Committed bond.”
Glancing at him from the corner of my eye, I waited for him to continue. He wasn’t looking at me, eyes focused ahead on some far-off place. His arms swung at his sides. I wanted to take his hand. I didn’t.
“It would be my honor,” he finally said, voice quiet and almost shy. “If you would have me. If that’s something you want. With me.”
When he still didn’t look at me, I reached out and took his hand, pulling him to a stop. His cheeks were red, and he tugged on his ear with his free hand.
“I’d like that very much,” I whispered, and he smiled, his dimple carving deep.
“That’s… well, that’s swell.” He squeezed my hand, green eyes glittering in the sunlight.
With a pathetic little giggle, I stepped forward and threw my arms around his waist. His sweater was soft and warm against my cheek. His heart thudded loudly, and I memorized the cadence.
“How much farther?” I asked quietly, not wanting to break the magic of the moment.
His fingers teased my curls. “We still have a bit to walk.”
“Can we take a break?”
“Of course. I should have asked sooner. Are you tired?”
Faking bravery I didn’t feel, I looked at him and attempted a flirtatious smile. “No. But I think we should make out now.”
“Oh.” His brows rose into his hairline, and his Adam’s apple leapt. “Okay. We could do that.”
“Yeah?”
Gideon smirked playfully. “There’s no stepstool.”
I sighed, a long, exaggerated whoosh of air. “Shut up and kiss me.”
And he did.
A half hour later, we were on our way again, hands clasped between us, fingers twined. My jeans were a little too tight, and Gideon’s hair was a mess. We were both a little flushed. The sunshine gleamed off his dark blond hair. A small, secret smile played at his mouth where I’d kissed him mere minutes before. He exuded serenity. I thought him beautiful.
The last part of our journey was a silent one. The deeper into the forest we walked, the quieter it became. Leaves and twigs snapped under our feet, but even those sounds were muted. The breeze had died down ages ago.
We were close now. I could sense it, a dull thrum under the earth. The air was thicker, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Gideon’s fingers tightened on mine, but we didn’t slow. We pressed onward.
And then, all at once, we stepped through a thicket of trees, and there it was. A large, circular tent stood before us, like the kind used by nomadic desert dwellers. The path to the entrance was lined with burning torches. Smoke and incense curled through the air, billowing out of the half-open flap.
“Shit,” Gideon grumbled under his breath.
“What?” I sneezed as the sweet but heady smoke drifted around us. “What’s wrong?”
“They’ve been burning sacred herbs. Salvia, sage, wormwood. It’s… we should go.” He glared at the flapping tent entrance—though how the material was flapping, I couldn’t guess. There was no wind here.
“Salvia… I know that one.” I gaped at Gideon. “Thrones are stoners?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered unintelligibly under his breath. Then he said, “Don’t say that to their faces.”
“I’m less intimidated now,” I said seriously. “Let’s go.”
I dragged him down the path between the torches. The flames licked at the air. Pebbles crunched under our boots. The flap of the tent entrance rippled like a lazy breeze was blowing through. But the air was still and quiet.
The smoke was thicker, and I coughed. It was pungent and earthy but sweet too. It made my eyes water and my head swim.
“You know, this explains a lot about Hezekiah,” I said mostly to myself. “I just thought he was crazy. I didn’t realize he was high.”
Gideon barked a laugh. Then his eyes widened, and he covered his mouth with his hand, smothering the sound. I smiled.
“Should we knock?” I touched the flap. It was warm and smooth, made of animal skins. “They probably wouldn’t hear it.”
“Stop talking,” he hissed at me. “You’ll bring their wrath upon us.”
I blew a raspberry between my lips. “Don’t be paranoid. We have to announce ourselves. How else would they know we’re here?”
“Um, they’re psychic,” he said seriously. “They already know.”
“Smart,” I said.
When I inhaled again, the smoke didn’t irritate my lungs as much. I relaxed. It was now or never.
“See you inside,” I said.
“Riley!”
Gideon’s voice cut off as I stooped under the flap and stepped inside the tent. Billowing smoke surrounded me, and I coughed again, waving my hand in front of my face. It was ten degrees hotter in here, the air muggy and sharp from overwhelming incense.
“Hello?” I called through the mist.
“Riley?” Gideon said behind me.
I turned. He wasn’t there.
“Gideon? Where are you?”
“Riley?” His voice was farther away.
“Gideon, I’m here.” I spun in a circle. There was nothing but white smoke. “Hello?”
“Hello,” a whiskey-smooth voice said.
The smoke dissipated, and a figure came into view. She was tall and slender. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her body until it draped the floor along with her light robes. Her skin was a warm brown. Her eyes were entirely white.
She was beautiful. She was terrifying.
“Hello,” I said again.
“Greetings, hybrid. We’ve been waiting for you.”
I blinked, and the Thrones was no longer alone. Hezekiah stood at her side, his long hair twisted into a braid. A third Thrones stood on her other side, skin tawny, hair so bronze it was almost metallic in its shine. But the trio shared the same white eyes, the same trembling power. They were old. They were strong. But I wasn’t afraid.
Hezekiah inclined his head. “Riley, it is good to see you alive and well. I prayed for this future to come to fruition.”
“We all did,” the brown-skinned woman said. “So many terrible possibilities. The Maker is merciful.”
“The Maker is merciful,” Hezekiah and the third Thrones echoed.
My thoughts were sluggish, my muscles loose. “Who are you?”
“Hava,” she said with a subtle bow. Then she motioned to the metallic blonde beside her. “And this is Hedi. You already know our brother.”
Glancing at Hezekiah, my eyes narrowed. “I do.”
“You’ve come to us at last,” Hedi said, high and reedy.