In his daydreams, Thronos mused on the realm’s paths, like The Long Way. He’d avoided it—as most would.
Unless one was looking for something. . . .
Thronos could remember with precise detail every glyph he’d read there—from Behold a temple unequaled to The pest that WAS—but he couldn’t determine how he’d traveled into the belly of a beast.
Nor how he’d come to be in the lair of a sea god.
Asides from all these gaps, Thronos felt like he’d forgotten something critical, and that memory churned so close to the surface—maddeningly—like a word on the tip of his tongue that refused to reveal itself.
His chest ached with a loss so marked that he sometimes thought he’d go insane. He felt as if the glass shard that had so grievously wounded him in his boyhood had again lodged itself beside his heart, but he couldn’t remove it. When he was alone, his claws constantly found his chest and flayed his skin—
“When will it be time?” Jasen asked.
Thronos glanced up, nearly startled by the male’s presence.
“For war?” Jasen prompted. “I understand you’re hesitant because of your queen.”
“I don’t have a queen,” Thronos grated, wondering if his knight had suffered head damage as well.
“You said the same when I asked if she had survived the explosion. My liege, I’m a simple soldier—I don’t understand pretext as you do. Are we to behave as if she never existed? By your actions, it seems you want to forget she ever lived—but why?” Jasen scrubbed his hand over his face, looking genuinely upset, while Thronos was baffled—and angered—by this outburst.
“We know she wasn’t involved in the attack,” Jasen continued. “A few even spied the queen at the lever. Only because of her did we have the alarm in the first place, and then she warned everyone. It could be argued that she saved our species.”
Thronos grasped for patience, saying slowly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I—have—no—queen.”
“Very well, my liege.” Jasen sounded rocked with disappointment. “I won’t mention it again.”
“See that you don’t. See that no one does!” Thronos regretted his tone immediately. He knew he was on edge, his ire ever at the ready. Yet moments later, he could never recall what he’d been angered about. “As for Cadmus and his warmongering, no longer are we hidden and immune to harm. We live in an indefensible outpost. We must approach this coolly. Jasen, if we war, we risk not only defeat—but our very extinction.”
He was about to pinch his aching temples, but then lowered his hand. Eyes were on him. He needed to look like a competent leader. “Until we find a place to call home, we should focus on nothing but that.”
What if we took the long way home . . . ?
Thronos cut off the idea before it even fully formed. Too far-fetched.
“Have you considered seeking asylum with another faction?” Jasen asked. “One within our alliance?”
“I’ve thought about asking Rydstrom the Good of the rage demonarchy for refuge in the Grave Realm.” The badlands of Rothkalina, filled with outlaws and dragons. After Pandemonia, dragons no longer gave Thronos pause.
This seemed to surprise Jasen.
“I corresponded with him recently.” Though Thronos didn’t remember about what, or even what had been said. All he remembered was that he’d come away with the idea that Rydstrom was irritating but honorable.
“You’re speaking of colonization on a demon plane?”
The vaguest memory arose. He could hear a muted voice, a female saying, We’re going to go found a Vrekener offshoot colony in a different realm.
At the memory, Thronos fought the urge to take his head between his hands and squeeze till something cracked. My mind, my mind . . .
“What do we do for now, my king?”
With effort, Thronos kept his tone even. “We recover. We plan.”
Jasen opened his mouth, then closed it. Thronos knew what question the knight had been trying to pose all week—but he didn’t know how he’d answer.
“My liege . . . will you tell me how you came to be on that mountain?” Jasen finally dared to ask. “Hundreds saw you simply appear.”
As Thronos had fallen, he’d desperately wanted to reach his people. Air had shrilled over him, his heartbeat booming in his damaged ears. Suddenly a wave of dizziness had overcome him, so fierce he’d had to close his eyes. When he’d opened them, he’d been standing amongst the others.