We couldn’t exactly point the finger at Medina, as Taeral had later explained in more detail. It was too early in the game to oust her—that had to wait until we knew what she was up to. Right now, Medina was more or less in her element, and she was planning something. By keeping this knowledge to ourselves, we could work a sting operation into our overall mission, and we could surprise her later down the line. Something was bound to come our way, something dangerous and even deadly, and chances were that Medina could be involved.
With that advance knowledge, we could think several steps ahead and play smarter. We’d gather enough evidence to make a proper accusation, knowing that the emperor would act against her, swiftly and with no mercy whatsoever. If we went after her now, we risked some messy internal politics, and we didn’t know enough about the Cerixian justice system to get involved and succeed in our endeavor. Irrefutable proof, on the other hand, could pass in any world and in all the courts. It was universal in its veracity.
And so, with Medina unaware of the thinly veiled conversation we’d just had with the emperor, we made our way back to our rooms and prepared for the morning. My room was warm and cozy, and the bathroom had a cute little gift basket filled with fragranced soaps that smelled of mountain summers and tropical jungles. Naturally, I’d made full use of them, soaking for the better part of an hour. I needed the downtime, badly, especially knowing what sort of fresh hell we’d be in for the next day.
This was my pause before the true fight. The last few hours of much-deserved peace before we’d go out and sneak into Hermessi territory to retrieve Eirexis. None of us thought it would be a smooth ride. We all knew the elementals would be waiting for us in the right place, and that they would stop at nothing to end us before getting Thieron complete and back to Death. All we could do, in these circumstances, was to be sharp-witted and invisible, swift and effective. Every second mattered. Every ally mattered—which was why unmasking Medina’s objectives had become so important. She was posing as our friend, yet she’d lied to us.
As soon as I left the tub and wrapped myself in a large and fluffy pale blue towel, I had a brief conversation with Viola through Telluris. She brought me up to speed on some of the latest developments in The Shade, including the fact that they’d moved all the affected fae into the Calliope sanctuary, to make our island complex safe for the Hermessi children. Derek and Sofia were busy with the logistics, quietly reaching out to and interviewing supernaturals for the extraction mission. On Neraka, Harper, Caspian, Fiona, and Zane were plotting their scheme to help Ramin recover his Hermessi power by stripping his son of his elemental heritage. It sounded rather simple, but it was crazy and dangerous.
Then again, everything related to the Hermessi was crazy and dangerous.
“Gah, I really hope they know what they’re doing,” I mumbled, drying my hair with another towel in front of the vanity mirror in my bedroom. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to work with, as I was left with a short and spiky platinum-blond mess. I’d have to comb and style it at some point, but the heating pipes emanated enough warmth from the massive furnaces that heated the palace that all I could think of was curling up in bed and sleeping till morning. “Then again, we barely know what we’re doing.”
Truth be told, we’d been winging it from day one, but our instincts had yet to fail us. Nothing ever stayed the same with the Hermessi—as their powers increased with the number of affected fae, so did their ability to attack, hurt, and even kill us. Death and the Reapers were still a huge bleepin’ mystery, and we had no idea how long before the five million mark would be hit, for the Hermessi’s ritual. There were more unknowns in our future, but the few facts we did have were indubitable.
Our worlds could end. Our lives could come to a sudden halt, en masse. And the only thing that could stop it all was a scythe that had been dismantled and scattered across the dimensions. In other words, we were screwed.
“But not dead yet,” I added.
A knock on the door startled me. I jumped from my chair in front of the vanity mirror and walked over to answer it. As soon as I opened the door, however, I found myself wondering—who’d knock, to then run off before I could answer?
Glancing up and down the hallway, I couldn’t see anything. There was no one else out there. A familiar scent tickled my nostrils, though. Eva and Herakles had caught it earlier, as well. “Skit,” I whispered. “What the hell are you up to, buddy?”
Taeral had asked about Skit during dinner with the emperor, who’d said that the faithful soldier was now a permanent fixture in the palace detail. If we’d yet to see him, we would soon enough. “He’s bound to show up at some point,” Medina had added, smiling. “Skit is always running around with errands and orders from the emperor.”
I was inclined to believe that, though I’d lost my trust in Medina. The emperor had confirmed it. So, Skit was out here, somewhere. He’d gotten close enough to say hello, yet he’d hidden from our sight. “Why?” I wondered out loud.
My gaze dropped, and I stilled. Something had been left on the floor, right in front of my doorway. I crouched and picked it up—a ring, made of gold and fitted with a flat, dark green gemstone. Two letters had been engraved on its surface, but I didn’t recognize them beyond their Cerixian origin. I’d yet to learn their old language.
Someone had brought this to me. “Why?” I asked myself again. “Lots of whys coming out of my mouth, these days…”
Could this be some kind of message, perhaps? My mind, ever the agitated and multifunctional scoundrel, immediately began drawing multiple scenarios regarding the ring’s origins. They all seemed like the stuff of fiction, until I compared them to everything we’d endured, thus far. Then, they all became possibilities. It was only a question of finding the truth about this ring.
Instinctively, I stood up and walked across the hallway. I knocked on Raphael’s door, knowing he’d want to see this object, too. As soon as he opened the door, his gaze couldn’t focus on the ring, even as I showed it to him. Instead, it bounced around, darkened and aroused, confusing me.
“Someone left this at my door,” I said. “What? What is it?” I added, trying not to roll my eyes at him, given his blatant lack of focus.
“I’m not sure you’re aware, but you’re not wearing anything except that towel,” he replied, his voice low and gruff and sending shivers down my spine.
I froze, remembering. Yes, I’d only been wrapped in the towel, since my long bath. The knock on the door and the discovery of the ring had completely distracted me from this little, yet crucial, fact. And I was standing in front of Raphael, the Perfect who’d stormed into my life and swept me off my feet, wearing nothing but… a… towel.
“Oh, dear,” I managed, my heart jammed tightly in my throat.
My face burned hotter than the sun, and my brain went into an automatic shutdown. Unable to process this situation, I did what I knew best. I stayed on topic. “So, the ring. Someone left it at my door,” I continued, foolishly thinking it would be enough to divert his attention, since I was firmly rooted into the floor and unable to run back into my room—which had, in fact, been one of my first instincts, prior to my brain’s self-sabotage.
“Amelia,” Raphael said, his eyes finding mine. “As much as I would love to talk about this ring, I cannot, until you put some clothes on. I can’t even think straight, at this point.”
“Oh…”
“I’ll wait for you in Eira’s room, with Taeral and the rest of the crew, in ten minutes,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Just… put some clothes on. Please.”
“Okay,” I mumbled.
It took me another twenty or thirty seconds to actually turn around and go back into my room, but, when I finally did it, I heard his tortured sigh behind me. My fault entirely, I thought. But Raphael had every reason to ask me that. I would’ve been equally mindless if he’d shown up at my doorstep with nothing but a fluffy blue towel around that perfectly chiseled pair of hips and—Oh, wow, I am droning on and on and on!
The Raphael effect was in full swing. Shutting the door behind me, I giggled like a teenage girl, though I wasn’t sure what I’d found so titillating. The thought of only a towel standing between Raphael and me, or the thought of only a towel wrapped around his waist… which was still only a towel standing between us. I was due for a quick cold shower, obviously. I had ten minutes to get dressed and meet him in Eira’s room.
Surely, I could squeeze in a couple of minutes to get that gorgeous image of him in a towel out of my head. It might take a lifetime, though.
Raphael
The image of Amelia in a towel, her hair still slightly wet and spiky, would forever be seared into my memory. In fact, if I were to die in this Hermessi affair, I knew she’d be the last thing I’d see as I closed my eyes—just her and the fluffy pale blue fabric wrapped around her upper body, with her milky skin and long, athletic legs, with sapphires burning wickedly in her eyes… Yeah, I can definitely die a happy man.
I’d gathered the troupe in Eira’s room. We were all here, with Amelia being the last one to come through the door. Part of me deflated like a sad beachball upon noticing the absence of that glorious towel. She’d switched to a more comfortable linen pant and shirt combo, but her cheeks were still flaring pink from our earlier encounter. I shook the thought away completely as she showed Eira the ring that had been left on her doorstep.
“I didn’t see who left it, but I caught Skit’s scent again,” Amelia said.
We huddled around Eira to get a better look at the ring in her hand. She gasped, recognizing the Cerixian symbols. “This is Trap’s,” she murmured, her eyes wide with shock and worry. “These are his initials. I think it was given to him when he joined the army. He never took it off.”
“Someone brought it to us, specifically,” Taeral replied. “They probably want us to know something or look into it.”
“Or both,” Amelia muttered. “Either way, we clearly can’t ignore this.”
“It reinforces your theories,” I said, glancing at Herakles, Riza, and Eira. “About Medina. Don’t you think?”
Riza nodded. “If it’s Skit, then he’s doing it without anyone else knowing about it. Chances are, he’s hiding from the prime minister, and he’s trying to tell us that we need to investigate Trap’s situation.”
“I agree,” Eira replied, looking at Taeral. “We should check the prison, first. Remember, he had an office there. Maybe he left a clue or something behind.”
