Page 41 of Storm Front

“This is too important for games.” Azaiah squeezed his hand. “I want to ask something of you.”

Nyx felt like the floor had fallen out from under him. That morning, he’d been agonizing over whether Azaiah wanted to ask him in the first place, but now…

“I have walked the earth a long time, Nyx.” Azaiah’s voice was low, almost rhythmic, and thunder boomed as he spoke, barely audible through the distant chatter of the crowd. “I have taken many ferrymen into my service. I’ve helped countless souls across my river, into what lies beyond. Until now, I had not found one I wanted to walk with me. To do so would be to remove yourself from the world and yet be more a part of it than before. Death’s companion will see the dark caves in Thalassa where villagers send their dying to find me. The mountains beyond your empire, the farmers who live past them, the warrior kings and queens who think the small patch of land they walk is sacred. You’ll see the Old Ones in the north and the children of the scholars who fought off your empire with words, long ago. But you will belong to none of those people.”

“You saidyou.” Nyx couldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Yes. I would walk with you, my soldier, if you will it.” Azaiah stood, coming around the table. He knelt before Nyx, and Nyx felt choked with misery, withwant.“I am the one who carries them beyond. You, my soldier. You would be grief, the loss felt by those left behind.” He took Nyx’s hands in his. “Your empire is secure, Nyx. You can choose this, if you wish.”

Nyx finally looked into Azaiah’s eyes, and he almost broke when he saw the desire there. Azaiah—Azaiah loved him. Wanted him. “I can’t,” he said, his own eyes stinging with tears. “I can’t choose this, not yet.”

Hurt flashed in Azaiah’s face, swift as lightning. “Ah. I see.”

“No.” Nyx moved before Azaiah could rise, sliding off his chair so they were both kneeling. He took Azaiah’s face in his hands. “I want to. I want to more than I can say. I thought— I’ve given away all my money, my horse, my armor. I thought you might ask.”

Azaiah’s brows knit together. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s Lamont. He thinks I love Nadia. And I do, but not in the way he imagines. He says I must be his general, when he’s emperor, and remain in the empire… or he’ll kill her. And if he kills her, the people who support his rule because he married a commoner will riot. The empire’s enemies will strike while we are weak. If I kill him, it will happen all the faster. I know empires aren’t important to gods, I know they rise and fall, but I am part of this one, Azaiah. I’m still tied to it, to these people.”

“And that is why you cannot be my companion,” Azaiah said softly, resigned. Nyx’s chest ached, and he leaned in, pressing his forehead to Azaiah’s.

“I want to,” he said. “I want to walk with you. But I have to ensure the empire as I know it—this empire, these people, Nadia—I have to protect them. You said you weren’t in danger of corruption yet, Azaiah. Surely a few more years isn’t that long to wait. If I can just have a few years for Lamont to tire of me and Nadia to secure her position as empress, then I can cut my ties to this place and be yours. If you still want me then. If you still want me even now.”

“I would still want you,” Azaiah said, the silken curtain of his hair tickling Nyx’s cheek, “if the rain fell and the river became a sea.”

“But it won’t come to that.” Nyx tipped Azaiah’s face up and kissed him, and Azaiah kissed him back, a hand on Nyx’s chest. “I’ll be yours soon. I’m yours now. But the companion bond, it has to wait. Can you do that, Azaiah? Will you wait for me?”

Azaiah kissed him again, half climbing into his lap, and Nyx fell back beneath him, looking up into Azaiah’s pale green eyes.

“Yes,” he said, as thunder made the walls tremble around them. “Yes, my soldier. I can wait.”

PartThree

The Tower

ChapterNine

Nyx held a witch stone in one hand, letting the pale light at its core bleed through his fingers. The palace was never deserted, but at night, with the right stone, spelled for silence and concealment, it was easy for him to slip unnoticed past the guards and servants. Their gazes slid by him, and he kept to the shadows, holding the stone to his chest.

When he reached the ornate door of the imperial nursery, Nyx slipped the stone into his pocket, blocking the light, and snuck inside.

The nursery was much as it had been before he left for his last deployment a few months earlier. There was the painting of the Needle above Kelta’s bed, the pillows pushed to the floor while little Andor dozed in a nest of stuffed animals, the rug where Nadia had paced, holding Andor to her chest as he struggled for breath in his early days.

Nyx moved between the beds and lay a hand on Kelta’s shoulder. She and her twin brother had looked so alike at first. But while Kelta was growing like a weed, Andor stayed small, his limbs too skinny, his eyes shadowed. They both had the same unruly brown hair, though, tangled in sleep, and Kelta spat some of it out as she opened her eyes. She grinned, and Nyx placed a finger over his lips. Behind him, he heard the thump of stuffed animals hitting the floor and a faint gasp.

“Uncle Nyx.” Andor’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “You came back!”

“He always comes back, goose,” Kelta said, throwing herself into Nyx’s arms. For a nine-year-old, she gave a crushing embrace. She pressed her face into Nyx’s neck and sighed heavily. “I wasn’t scared this time.”

“I know.” Nyx hauled her onto Andor’s bed, which made her giggle, and bent down to hug the boy. He was gentler with Andor, who couldn’t catch his breath at the best of times, and Andor wrapped his arms around his neck.

“I was scared,” Andor whispered.

“That’s all right. War can be frightening. Would you like lessons again?”

“Right away?” Kelta sat up, bouncing on her knees. “We’ve been practicing in secret. Father doesn’t know, because he’s never around when we have math lessons, and since Andor’s so smart, the tutors just leave us alone.”

Nyx frowned, but both children were practically jumping on the bed, so he pulled out his witch stone. “Who wants to carry it?”

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