Page 82 of The Shadowbound and the False God

Aisling wasn’t the only one he’d hurt with his choices. Kael studied his closest friend, whom he’d forced to watch as he’d given far too much of himself for far too little: for distant dominions and needless conquests and power for the sake of power. And even in the end when Kael had given his life for something greater, he’d left Raif behind to face the aftermath. To watch his body burn without any guarantee that his sacrifice—theirsacrifice—would mean anything at all.

He was selfish.

The fire of Kael’s fury banked quickly at the realization and he sighed, defeated. “I am sorry. I have asked too much of you over the years, and I know that being my captain has been a thankless job. As has being my friend.”

Raif stood quietly for a moment as if considering Kael’s offering. Then, still not quite relinquishing his characteristic severity, he said, “You are my king, and I pledged to follow you to whatever end. I will follow you now—but I will not stand by and watch you go to your death.”

“I am not asking you to,” Kael assured him evenly.

“Should I have even the slightest inclination that this will fail, I will put a stop to it.” Raif’s tone was still one of warning, but his jaw was no longer clenched and his eyes were no longer narrowed.

Kael nodded once. “I have no doubt that you will.”

“And then we will find another way.”

“We will find another way,” Kael agreed, holding out his hand. Raif clasped Kael’s forearm in a firm, resolute grip, and hemirrored the gesture. Their friendship had taken shape sparring in the arena and bent over war tables, but their brotherhood was forged in battle and bloodshed. So for the time being, there were no more arguments left to be made.

Kael couldn’t recall the last time he’d offered so many apologies in such quick succession. While he still did not particularly care for the practice, he could appreciate the effect they had—first on Aisling, and now on Raif. He hardly deserved their forgiveness, but they gave it anyway. For that, at least, he was grateful.

Rodney and Aisling had moved closer to the fire and had lapsed into quiet discussion when the pair returned. Raif settled back in amongst his weapons. Kael hesitated, waiting for Aisling to signal that she wished to be close to him still. That she hadn’t changed her mind in the brief time he’d been away from her. She shifted, just slightly, silently inviting him to sit back down beside her. He let one leg fall so his thigh pressed against hers, and something soft fluttered in his chest when she didn’t pull away.

“We cannot go to him.” Raif had caught on quickly to the conversation and weighed in despite the thread he held between his teeth while he re-fletched an arrow. “We cannot fight him where he has dominion.”

“This is his realm. He has dominion everywhere.” Rodney dipped a twig into the fire absently, though it didn’t catch. Despite their heat, those repetitive flames burned only the unchanging wood at their base.

Kael hummed; the púca had a point. Still, he had little interest in returning to face Yalde in the sylvan cathedral. “Be that as it may, it would be ill-advised. We must find a way to call him to us.”

“Not here,” Raif said sharply. “He cannot know of Antiata.”

“No, I would not think of it,” Kael assured him. The soldier nodded and returned his focus to the arrow in his lap.

“Fine then, let’s say we’ve found the perfect spot, we’ve given Yalde a call, and he’s just turned up. How are we meant to keep him there long enough to run him through with our little knife?” Rodney’s dry sarcasm was well-meaning, yet set Kael’s teeth on edge all the same—as did most things out of the púca’s mouth.

“What if we could do it like how we trapped Laure?” Aisling spoke up tentatively. The braid he’d woven in her hair had come fully undone now and a loose strand rested on her cheek. Kael raised a hand to brush it back. He tucked it behind her ear, letting his finger linger there for a beat. It was difficult to keep the smirk from his lips when she shivered slightly and blushed at the contact.

“Unless you've been studying up Ash, I don't know of any Rhedelas configurations strong enough to trap a god. To call him, maybe. But not to keep him.” Rodney gave up on the twig and tossed it away, shifting focus to controlling his twitching tail instead.

She fell silent, but by the way her gaze grew distant Kael knew that her mind was working the problem. He could tell there was something there—so close, as if on the very fringes of her thoughts but just beyond her grasp. He kept quiet, giving her the space to think. Her jaw flexed as she chewed lightly on the inside of her cheek. Kael was absolutely enraptured by her, and tempted—desperately, dangerously tempted—to take her face in his hands and kiss her again right there in front of Rodney and Raif and whatever other ancient beings or bygone gods blessed the stones of the cairn around them.

He was mere seconds from giving in when she said finally, “The crossroads.”

Rodney frowned. “What?”

“There’ve always been stories about crossroads; wives’ tales about spirits or devils or whatever else you might meet there.” Aisling sat up a little taller, leaning forward to draw a crosson the dirt floor with the tip of one finger, then tapped on the center where the lines intersected. “People used to be buried at crossroads, criminals and such, to prevent their spirits from returning. It was thought they’d be trapped there.”

“You’ve been spending too much time in the library, Ash,” Rodney teased, but there was no real conviction behind it.

She shook her head. “It’s old folklore, and it might not be true at all but…I don’t know, fucking faeries are real, why not this too?”

Rodney snorted, but Kael hardly noticed because Aisling had turned to look at him and there it was—there it was. He didn’t know whether to laugh or cry from the relief that washed over him at the sight of it: hope. A flicker, just a spark, but it was there glowing in her eyes and lighting up her face just as he remembered. She may have thought she’d lost it, but she hadn’t. Not really. He knew she hadn’t. She’d just needed to find it again.

And with it, he felt his own courage returning, too.

Kael’s mind—all of their minds—were worn thin from harried preparation, throwing out increasingly unrealistic ideas at a frenetic place until a patchwork plan had been strung together. It was full of holes, and one well-timed question might have shredded it entirely, but it was the best they could do under these circumstances. They were out of time—Sudryl and Raif had made that much clear. Antiata had given them all it had left to give.

When they’d each finally fallen into their own wordless stretches of thought and Aisling had retreated into a separate chamber, Kael didn’t wait long before trailing after her. Hefound her waiting inside for him as though she knew he’d follow.Of course she knew he’d follow.

One heartbeat, then another. The span of two heartbeats was all it took for him to cross the chamber and claim her lips with his own. The kiss was harsh at first, and desperate. Then, once they both realized the other wasn’t going anywhere, wasn’t going to pull away, it slowed. Deepened. Became something less about claiming and keeping and more about feeling, remembering, cherishing.

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