Page 63 of Above Cursed Winds

Offering the youngling a smile he hoped looked sincere, Jeremiah fronted happiness, “Of course, little man. Best buds.”

Bumping knuckles, Myko excitedly launched into another discussion about dinosaurs, not realizing the tense mood of the adults at the table.

Nero, sensing something was amiss, organically ushered Myko away, asking the child to show him the collection of plastic dinosaurs upstairs.

And then there was silence.

Unflinchingly, Zia’s hand crept over to meet his beneath the table. Jeremiah could sense her yearning for him, but he kept his eyes trained on his abandoned food.

“Jer?” The hoarse word was almost a croak from the Elemental he’d once called his best friend. “Jeremiah?”

A mismatch of emotions rioted through him; the need to comfort, the urge to scream, the wish to simply disappear. But Jeremiah found that he couldn’t resist the urge to meet Gideon’s gaze.

He found the other man fixated on him.

Jeremiah couldn’t drum up any spite or malice. Everything within him felt as though he’d been ripped apart at the seams, drained of intent and every drop of happiness he’d ever felt. It’d left him empty.

“Don’t look at me like that, Gideon.”

A sound of pure agony escaped from the other man. “Jeremiah, please. What have I done?”

“Nothing—and everything! Damnit, Gideon, just stop!”

Fisting a hand in his hair, Jeremiah could no longer remain still. Standing up so fast his chair toppled over behind him, he exited the dining room through the sliding doors without a backwards look. He needed to escape.

But Gideon followed.

He’d made it five steps out into the pounding rain before roots shot up from the earth before him to prevent his escape. Snarling as though he were a caged puma, he rounded on the other man, baring his teeth.

“Stop following me!”

“Then tell me!” Gideon yelled. “Tell me what I’ve done to make you hate me so much!”

Jeremiah’s resolve crumpled. “Hate you?” Roaring to the heavens, the wind whistled around him, splicing across his skin as the rain continued to beat into them. “I’ve never hated you, Gideon!”

“Then what do you call this?” Spreading his arms wide, Gideon stared him down, drowning in sorrow. “I’ve lost my best friend, and I don’t even know why.”

Guilt became a dagger in his core, spreading fury at his own incompetence. Clutching his chest, Jeremiah’s shoulders shook with tension. With deep, abiding sadness.

“I can’t, Gideon—I just can’t.”

When he leapt into the air to desperately escape this confrontation, a root snagged his ankle, preventing his rise and yanking him toward the ground. Savage, Jeremiah’s fury slammed into Gideon, the sharp lash of wind cutting into his monarch’s cheek and drawing blood.

“Jeremiah!”

But he barely heard the cry, his enraged haze overshadowing his sense of reason. The root twisted around his ankle, unforgiving. The crushing grip continued to keep him earthbound, a pressure that cinched so tightly it turned painful.

He didn’t hold back. Pushing against it with his abilities, it tore apart, and Jeremiah set on Gideon with a sneer.

“Stop it!”

“Not until you tell me why you’ve made me the enemy!”

Roaring, Jeremiah loosened a shout to the heavens, the air coiling around him in a comforting blanket. Why would his element soothe him now, but not when Gideon’s life had been in danger? It’d abandoned him, just like Gideon had.

“Jeremiah!” A crushing grip slammed into his shoulder, bringing him to his knees. “Jeremiah, Myko is watching.”

And that was all he needed to rein in the fury that’d boiled over and regain some semblance of calm. Nero’s deep brown eyes nearly glowed, and the building anger within Jeremiah dissipated as though it’d never been. Blinking, he frowned at the sovereign.

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