They’d agreed on this plan. Or, more accurately, Goran had essentially forced Asher’s hand with a blood oath made through magic and bloodshed. He’d trusted Goran, swearing blindly before he knew what his friend was going to ask of him. Now he wished he hadn’t trusted so easily.

Because the possible scenario Goran had planned for, even been waiting for, was happening. Now.

Heart growing heavier by the second, Asher stared hard at Goran. Tall for a pixie, Goran’s face was a triangle with a pointed, stubborn-as-hells chin. His coloring he’d gotten from his father—a pixie who’d basically been a second father to Asher—light brown hair, hazel eyes, and, of all things, freckles.

As familiar to Asher as his own face. How was he supposed to kill Goran?

Don’t make me do this. Please, he silently begged Goran.

But the only way to salvage this was making Thanatos believe that Goran was the spy, not Asher. They both knew the king, knew the only act that would convince him of Asher’s loyalty was this. Him killing Goran.

And a slowly dying man was a desperate man. Already Goran’s lips and ears were starting to turn black with the disease slowly ravaging his body. A fact he’d hidden from everyone but Asher—including Goran’s own family, and his sister Gwen. Instead of fading away slowly, he had wanted to make his end count. This was his choice.

But it had only been a contingency plan, damn it.

They were never supposed to end up here.

“Asher Kato.” A voice like smoke came out of the darkness a beat before Thanatos himself stepped into Asher’s line of sight. “Member of my King’s Guard. My best warrior. I was thinking of appointing you as my Viceroy of Defense.” A muscle twitched in the side of the king’s jaw. “The only question I have for you is…how will you choose to die?”

Asher only had a split second to decide what to do.

The surety, the will to see this through, glittered in his friend’s eyes. Asher didn’t need his dragon’s telepathy to know that Goran was silently urging him to take this final step with him.

Fuck.

This was happening.

They were doing this. His stomach curled, souring, and turning to sludge. He gave the slightest shake of his head, one that asked Goran to stop. Not to make him do this.

Not to force his hand.

Goran tipped his chin just enough for Asher to get the message. There was no other choice. Ladon needed Asher to stay where he was, providing invaluable information. Goran was right.

I will go to the seventh hell for this.

Gwen would never forgive him for this.

But the decision was made. The blood oath between them had made sure of that.

Time to put on a show.

“I know this man,” Asher started. And had the satisfaction of seeing Thanatos pause. The king hadn’t been expecting that admission. “Why is he here?”

Thanatos swung his piercing blue gaze from Goran to Asher, tipping his head to study him closely. “You admit you know him?”

“Yes.”

Thanatos’s lips compressed. He’d never really liked Asher’s tendency to brevity. “He’s a friend?”

“Yes.”

Across the way, Goran grunted. Pixie for irritation. In other words, start talking.

Asher unclenched his jaw. “We grew up together, north of here, near my home.” In a smaller dragon mountain near Goran’s flutter of pixies.

Thanatos rocked back on his heels, taking that in. “Then what the hells was he doing skulking through our mountain with papers containing information about our coffers? Was he there to visit you?”

Yes. But the information Goran had carried was too damning to admit it. “No. I have no clue why he was there.” He forced fire to reflect in his eyes. “What did you do, Goran?”