Persephone pushed out her lower lip as she looked up at the stars. “That my friends had died, but there was a chance they could come back.” She looked at him and rolled her shoulders. “Sounds crazy, doesn’t it?”
Nyphron stared at her for a long moment. Then he reached for the bottle.
“Not even a comment?” Persephone asked.
Nyphron shook his head. “At this point? No. And it doesn’t change anything. Tekchin is dead. They all are now, my Galantians and yours.”
“I don’t have Galantians.”
Nyphron gripped the cork and tugged it out with a deep, resonating pop! “Sure you do. Moya, Suri, Roan, Arion, Brin, Gifford, and Padera are your elite band of adventurers, your friends.”
“Suri isn’t dead . . . not that we know of.” Persephone looked at the glistening bottle. “Maybe I will have that drink.”
Nyphron handed her the container.
“To the heroes I loved.” Persephone put the rim to her lips. The liquid was warm and sweet and unlike anything she’d ever tasted. It ran down her throat like sunlight on a cloudy day. “Good that this is rare, or I might develop a fondness for it.”
Nyphron took the bottle, then lifted it high over his head. “Farewell, Tekchin. Until we meet again, my friend, in the green fields of Alysin.” Then he, too, drank deeply.
Together, they stared at the fire, silently watching the flames jump and dance. Sparks blew toward the stars before fading all too soon in the vast, cold darkness.
“Those are them,” Persephone finally said. She pointed at individual sparks. “That’s Moya, and there’s Gifford, Roan, and Brin. Their souls are flying to the stars. Suri is probably in there, too. We’ll all be ash soon.”
“You were right about not being much of a drinker,” Nyphron said.
“What? Why do you say that?” She looked at him and noticed that when her head shifted, the world rocked a bit.
He smiled at her with an amused expression. “Erivitie is extraordinarily strong and known to hit with shocking quickness, especially if you haven’t eaten.”
“I ate today. I think. But it was only a biscuit.” Persephone moved her head again, marveling at the way the firelight blurred. “How about you? I suppose being an expert at drinking, you don’t feel anything at all.”
“Wouldn’t say that. There’s another reason there’s so much still in that bottle. One pull makes you dizzy, two makes you crawl.”
“And three?”
“Don’t know. Anyone who’s ever tried hasn’t lived.”
“Did you just make a joke?”
“Apparently not a very good one if you had to ask.”
They resumed watching the fire in silence. Persephone had never before realized how fascinating blazes could be, how complex, how magical. More sparks flew, and she couldn’t help wondering if more souls were taking flight.
“What do you think of Malcolm?” she asked.
“I try not to.”
“Why?”
“He annoys me.”
“I find him a comfort. Sometimes when I’m up at . . . when I’m feeling blue, he comes to me. He thinks you don’t spend enough time with your son.”
“Good example.”
“You know, after he told me all my friends were dead, Malcolm mentioned he was sending them help. That same night Padera died. Do you think that was a coincidence?”
“You suspect he killed her?”
Persephone rubbed her face. It felt hot, and she wasn’t sure if it was flushed with the fire’s heat or the liquor. “I don’t know. I’m not sure of anything anymore.”
“Watch this.” Nyphron tipped the bottle. Catching a drop of liquid on the tip of his finger, he flicked it into the fire. Instantly, a bright blue flame exploded.
Habet’s smile turned into a huge grin, and he clapped his approval.
“And we drank that?” Persephone said, shocked.
“It helps that we were sitting at the time.”
She leaned back, hoping to cool the heat of her skin. “Why don’t you visit your son more? Are you . . . are you repulsed by him? Because he’s half Rhune? Do you wish—”
“I don’t have time.”
“Oh yes, you are so busy—we both are. We’ve been stalemated in this conflict for years and are incredibly preoccupied with sitting, waiting, and staring at fires, while those we love die or disappear because of the orders we dole out or quests we sanction.”
Nyphron also leaned back on his elbows. “I hate waiting. Never used to do it. My whole life has been rushing from one skirmish to another. Now . . . I honestly don’t know how long it has been since I’ve drawn my sword. If I tried to use it, I’d likely develop blisters.”
“Maybe you should spend more time with Nolyn.”
“No.” He shook his head. “That’s not how you raise a proper son.”
Persephone had wanted him to admit he should spend more time with Nolyn. Perhaps even an apology for relegating everything to her would be in order, but beyond even those desires, she had hoped he would promise to do more. His answer irritated her. “How would you know?”
“I’m sure it’s hard to believe, but I was once a son, and I hardly ever saw my father before the age of ten. That was when I was sent to the garrison to start my training. Nolyn should begin soon. Then neither one of us will see him much. He’ll begin his life as a warrior, a hard, grueling existence.”
“That sounds like an awful way to raise a child.”
“You think you could do better?”
“Absolutely.”
Nyphron shook his head. “Then I fear for Nolyn.”
Persephone rotated to her side to get a better look at him. The motion revealed just how soupy the world had become, and in the glow of that liquor and flame, she noticed just how handsome the last Galantian was. “Why?”
“You’re basically saying that the way I was raised wasn’t good enough. That you expect greater things for our son. But look at me. I’m still in my first millennium, and I’ve very nearly taken over the world. How much more could you possibly want?”
“Are you drunk?” she asked.
“I didn’t even have a biscuit.”
Nyphron looked back at the tent. She wondered if the drink had made her more appealing in his eyes, too.
“You really should have some protection. Let’s not forget about the raow.”
Guess not.
“Now that Moya is . . .” He stopped himself, and she appreciated that he didn’t finish that thought. “Anyway, you need a new Shield.”
“I have Habet here,” she declared. Reaching out, she touched his hand, which generated a grin and a nod.
“The war will come back to us. It won’t be long now. The advantage is shifting once more. You can feel it, can’t you? We’ve enjoyed too many years behind the lines, but that will soon change. Lothian won’t wait on the weather. As soon as he gets his dragons, he’ll strike. The keenig needs a proper Shield—and my wife will have the best. With Tekchin gone, Sikar is second only to me in ability. I’ll inform him he’ll have the privilege from now on.”