Page 22 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Everything,” Legion replies. “What happened with Fox? How did you release Styx if you have no magic? How did you get out of the temple?”
Emrys slams the jar onto the desk. “Why did Bodin find that by your side as you slept in Varen’s bed?”
“Were you planning on returning to—” Bodin pauses as he pulls a crumpled letter from his pocket, unfolds it, and scowls to read. “—Elphyne?”
“With Varen?” Legion adds, his brows puckering. “Were you going to take him with you?”
“Whoa, whoa. One outrageous claim at a time.” I blink rapidly, processing which of their questions to tackle first. Wait. “What’s in the letter?” I ask. “Did Fox write it?”
He didn’t writemea letter. He let me believe everything was fine until it wasn’t. No one answers.
“You clearly know what happened.” I gesture at Styx. “He’s here. Fox isn’t because he blindsided me. He . . .”
Cherish me.
His angst-ridden voice crashes into my mind. I squeeze my eyes closed against the memory, but it’s no use.Cherish me. Cherish me. Cherish me.Each time it repeats, I remember new details. His voice broke with emotion. He was afraid. Doubtful. I hold my breath and wish away the agony. I pray to the Well, and my tears don’t spill.
“Show me,”Styx whispers into my mind.
I shake my head.“It hurts too much.”
Instead, I slip my fingers into my pocket and grip the spectacles until they cut into my wounded palm. The pain grounds me. It reminds me of my purpose.
“This is for you.” I hand Legion the spectacles. “A gift from Fox.”
Bodin intercepts, stealing them. Just like that, the illusion of my control vanishes. I snarl and launch at him, but he holds the spectacles high over his head. He is an immovable mountain of muscle. Every ounce of my training to disarm someone like him flees my mind. All I can think is that Fox honored me with that choice. It was a gift. The right is mine.
“Don’t put them on,” I warn, jumping for the prize, but he keeps jerking them out of reach. “They’re not for you.”
“I am the Knight Protector,” he snaps, dark eyes flashing. “Gifts go through me.”
“It’s probably cursed,” Styx adds, circling me like a hungry wolf. “She’s hiding something from me.”
The door bursts open. Varen storms in and heads straight for Legion, the baby Hunt hot at his feet. He slams his palms on the desk and shouts, “We’re out of honey!”
I’ve never been happier to see him. Bodin’s hand briefly lowers in the distraction, and I jump, snagging the spectacles. I dart around the desk, intending to throw myself on Legion and shove them on his face.
But my steps falter when I find him already watching me, ignoring Varen’s continued demands. Does he know? I make a split decision and drop to my knees, a silent plea in my eyes as I look up at him.
By now, the others have caught on to what happened. Varen distracted them. Styxflickersto Legion’s side, his eyes bleeding into black. Small conical spikes erupt over his brows and knuckles, and he bares a mouth full of razor-sharp fangs. Bodin and Emrys crowd closer, ready to protect their First at a moment’s notice.
A Nightmare once called Legion a prince. Right now, with all of us centered around him, I have no doubt they were right.
Fox showed me a book filled with their history. These Sluagh are six of the original seven born of the Morrigan—the Cauldron’s deity of chaos. He alluded to King Oberon owning and controlling them once. But that’s not the type of royalty I think the Nightmare spoke of. They can’t all be princes of the underworld. Fox and Bodin weren’t called princes.
I look into Legion’s beautiful, expressive eyes and see the heavy burden of leadership. I see a cunning, ruthless malewilling to do anything to protect the innocent people of Avorlorna. I see a blue, glimmering teardrop beneath his left eye and am reminded of the goodness inside of them.
He might be arrogant, abrupt, and bossy, but his brothers respect him—even if they don’t remember why.
“Fox enchanted these.” I lift the brass spectacles higher. “So the wearer can see through Titania’s forgetting curse or whatever makes you forget who you really are. The enchantment works only for the original wearer and can’t be transferred. He also said the choice is mine.” I feel a dash of guilt when Styx recognizes them from the temple. He probably wonders why I didn’t choose him. Or Emrys. Or Bodin. I can’t look any of them in the eyes because the only answer is there can be no room for disobedience. “I choose you, Legion.”
Chapter 11
Willow
Legion delicately takes the spectacles, his eyes narrowed. His finger tentatively pokes through a circular space for the eyes. Unlike the spectacles old-worlders wear for correcting blurred vision, these have no glass lenses. A perplexed look crosses his features.
“Fox said to pretend they’re a fashion adornment.” I shrug. “That no one will suspect they’re enchanted because of the brass, and you’re?—”
