Page 58 of Revenge of the Forgotten

The fabric was slightly baggy on her, her body not filling it out like it might have once. Over the last year, she’d been fighting demons she hadn’t even let her husband see.

A wave of sadness washed over her.

Chase.

Shouldn’t she still be grieving over that loss? Grieving over the fact she left a life behind that she’d once loved? That wasn’t your real life.

Vega had no idea what to feel anymore, not when her life took a turn she couldn’t have hallucinated in her wildest dreams. She wrapped her arms around herself, meeting her gaze in the mirror at the same time someone tapped on the metal door to her bedroom. It rattled, a familiar voice coming from the other side.

“Vega.” Khort had been avoiding her since their last encounter, going as far as to have Arlet take over her training the last few days—excusing himself while he handled an issue in another territory.

An issue no one seemed to want to tell her about.

“Shit,” Vega muttered to herself. “One sec!” Vega spun in circles, gathering her pajamas on the floor and holding them against her chest. She bumped her hip on the side of her bed and dropped the clothes with a hiss of pain. Fuck, that’s gonna bruise. She bit her lip to keep from cursing out loud.

“Is everything okay in there?”

Vega didn’t answer, continuing to spin in circles like a dog chasing its tail. The handle turned, and it was too late to hide.

“Ve—” Khort’s eyes landed on her.

Her cheeks burned red, embarrassment canceling out the feeling of sadness that had consumed her moments earlier. “I couldn’t sleep,” she admitted. Vega watched as his eyes roamed over her body, and she wished she could disappear forever.

“I remember the night you wore that like it was yesterday.” Khort stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his hands behind his back. “I, uh—I…” He paused, and Vega wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so flustered. Khort cleared his throat. “I had a little itch that you weren’t able to sleep.”

Khort pulled his hands out from behind his back, holding up a couple of crystal glasses and a bottle of deep red wine with no label. “Your favorite wine from Solum.”

Vega forgot all about the dress and smiled, moving forward to grab the bottle. The dress rustled as she walked. She couldn’t remember the taste, but any wine was better than none on a night like tonight when her friend insomnia came back to visit. “Come to Mama,” she cooed, rummaging through the drawers in her room for a bottle opener.

Khort cleared his throat. “Vega.” She paused, turning to look at him. “Come here.” He nodded his way.

She closed the distance between them. Vega held out the wine for him to take, but he shook his head and placed his hands around hers on the bottle. She met his gaze.

“This was always your favorite party trick.” He looked down at their hands. “Focus on the air at the very tip of the bottle.”

Vega groaned. “No training! My brain hurts.”

Khort tittered a laugh. “It’s easy, c’mon. Focus.”

She huffed, closing her eyes. The air at the top of the bottle was the temperature of the air around them, and when Vega’s mind wrapped around it, she could feel the pressure build. A breath whizzed through her teeth as she focused, and it only took seconds for the cork to shoot out of the bottle with a pop. Vega jumped back, almost dropping the wine. Thankfully, Khort still had a hold over her hands. “Whoa!” A laugh sprang from her lips.

Khort picked up the glasses and poured them both a fair share of the tempting dark wine.

Vega swirled the liquid in the glass, taking a whiff once it settled. The notes of tobacco and black currant hit her like a sucker punch. Her mouth watered, and she was unable to hold off any longer from taking a sip. “Mmmm.” She held the glass close, the flavor taking over her senses. “Glad to know I’ve always had good taste.”

Khort smiled, taking a seat in the plush chair at the corner of the room. “Arlet and I crack a bottle of this every year on the anniversary of your first death.” His radiant smile faded as he spoke.

Well, that’s morbid. Vega wanted to tell him so until she realized what he was saying. “Today?” she asked, biting her lip.

Khort nodded in silence.

“Oh,” Vega said, slinking to the bed. She sat on the edge, staring at the glass in her hand. “Fifty-five years?”

Khort nodded again. “Yes.” His lips met his glass, but he didn’t look up at Vega—she could see the sorrow etching the lines of his face.

Vega moved over to the chair where Khort was sitting. She lowered herself onto the arm, twisting to sit comfortably where she could view his face. “Cheers to fifty-five years.” Vega held her glass out and waited for him to clink his against it.

“That’s morbid,” Khort said, taking her words from earlier right out of her brain.

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