Page 77 of A Haven of Brimstone and Darkness

“There are no victors in war, only survivors.” Both Theos and I turn sharply at those words.

“Ruen!” I dive forward, ripping myself free from Theos’ grasp as I catch sight of the scarred Darkhaven leaning against the open doorway of his chamber. His chest is bare in deference to the wound in his shoulder, but the light pants Makeda and Danai had given him hang low on his hips, accentuating the deep lines that form a ‘v’ pointing to his groin.

Grabbing him around the waist, I throw all of my weight into pushing him back into the room. “You shouldn’t be up,” I snap, urging him backward.

“Ugh.” Ruen groans as his arm leaves the doorframe and the two of us nearly go down as he tries to take a step back. Theos is there in an instant, holding his brother up and between the two of us, we manage to help him back to the bed.

“How do you feel?” Theos asks as I hurry to drag the sheets and blankets up Ruen’s legs. With how distracting the dips and valleys of Ruen’s muscles are, I’d like to throw a tunic on him too, but then my eyes land on the blackened mark in his flesh.

“Like someone shot me with a poisoned arrow.” Ruen deadpans.

“Next time don’t just stand there,” Theos taunts.

Ruen grunts as he shifts around and then lifts his hand in a gesture I know all too well.

“Okay, that’s enough,” I snap, grabbing Ruen’s hand and lowering it back to the mattress. “Answer Theos’ question seriously. How are you feeling? Do you feel lightheaded? Are you in pain?”

“I think it’s safe to say he’s recovering well,” Theos says, waving a hand towards Ruen’s legs.

I look down and then immediately sit up. “Are you fucking serious?” I glare at Ruen as he snags Maeryn’s abandoned pillow and holds it over his hips as he repeats the hand motion from earlier with more fervor.

“I’m fucking tired is what I am,” Ruen grunts, lowering his arm as he leans against the headboard, “and I’m not doing this on purpose.” He nods down to his lap and I roll my eyes.

“Well, stop it.”

Two sets of eyes—one of sunset gold and one of midnight blue—land on me. “That’s not how men work,Dea,” Theos says.

“Iknowhow men work,” I bite back.

“You certainly know howIwork, Little Thief.”

I turn as Kalix enters the room and closes the door behind him.

“Where have you been?” Theos demands.

Without turning his head, Kalix glances at Theos and arches a brow. “I was talking to our new allies.”

“They are not our allies,” I hiss. Silence meets that comment and I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. “They’re not.”

“They saved Ruen’s life and removed the spell from Maeryn,” Theos says, his tone quiet. “What would you call that?”

I lock my jaw and refuse to respond. What else can I say?

Kalix moves forward and turns, reclining over the end of the bed beyond Ruen’s feet beneath the covers and propping himself up. “Whether you wish them to be our allies or not,” Kalix says, “they’ve been helpful in the last few days.”

“Did you send the note I wrote to Regis?” I ask, ignoring his comment.

He grins, lying back completely as he folds his hands behind his head. “I did,” he says. “I also did some sneaking of my own, little liar.”

My gaze sharpens on his—as do his brothers’. “Kalix.” Ruen’s tone is a low growl. “What did you do?”

Kalix’s smile doesn’t falter. In fact, it grows. “I sent a warning,” is all he says.

“You can’t just send a warning to the Gods,” I say.

He shakes his head, the long raven-black locks of his hair slipping back and forth across the bedsheets. “I didn’t send the warning to them,” he assures me.

“Then who?—”

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