Assuming she could even get to Pandemonia, Lanthe was as prepared as she could be. Sabine had insisted she borrow her ability to talk to animals. If a dragon wanted to chat, Lanthe was ready.
Another loaner? Lanthe wore her sister’s most battle-tested breastplate. As Sabine had grumbled, “You need extra insurance for my halfling niece or nephew.” Lanthe was also wearing more sensible boots (no stilettos this time) and a pair of second-skin leather pants—might as well squeeze into them while she still could!
“You’re not going to simply run into him there,” Sabine said. “What if you miss him?”
Lanthe marched over to her camping backpack. “That’s why I’m staying there.”
Jaws dropped.
Cadeon recovered first. “You? Camping?” He snorted. “Much less camping in hell!”
“Cade.” Holly slapped his chest.
He muttered, “You gotta admit that’s funny.”
Lanthe piped her lip and blew a braid out of her eyes. Apparently everyone here had forgotten that she’d already camped in hell. Granted, she hadn’t been alone. . . .
Sabine said, “I was opposed to you going by yourself for just an hour or so! Now you want to go indefinitely? And if you tell me it’s really not that bad there one more time, I might scream.”
“I’ve set everything in motion here that I can. In a few days, I’ll check in for news.”
“And to provide proof of life,” Rydstrom said.
Cadeon gave him a damn straight look.
“If I haven’t found Thronos in three weeks, I’ll return to summon him. And, Sabine, it’s really not that bad there.”
When Sabine parted her lips to argue, Lanthe said, “This baby bird’s gotta fly, sis.”
“Great,” Sabine drawled. “She’s already speaking in avian metaphors.”
Holly chuckled, then made her face serious once more.
Lanthe gazed at her sister, hating that she worried. But there was nothing she could do about it. “It’s time for me to go. I’m recharged, resolved, and ready to do this—on my own.”
Rydstrom drew Sabine close. “She’s got a point, cwena.” Demonish for little queen, his nickname for her. “There comes a time when you just have to trust. I had to do that with Cadeon.”
“Only took him fifteen hundred years,” Cadeon remarked. Aly blew a bubble and tugged on her pointed ear at the same time, which Cadeon clearly thought was a marvelous feat.
“At least leave the portal open,” Sabine said, “until we can be sure you even got to the right realm.”
In a grousing tone, Lanthe muttered, “Fine. Just so you won’t worry so much.”
“Don’t forget what we talked about, Lanthe,” Rydstrom told her. Now that he knew what Thronos was really like, he was cordially offering refuge in Rothkalina to every Vrekener. Sabine was grudgingly co-offering it.
“Thank you for that.” But Lanthe had another idea. It was so crazy, she hadn’t mentioned it to a soul. . . .
Dreaming of reuniting with Thronos and restoring his memory, she felt sorcery coursing through her. She raised her hands and began to open a rift.
For me—and for our halfling.
Lanthe directed the door straight to the glade (in theory). Squeezing her eyes shut, she inwardly begged that she’d find floating bubbles—and not a giant stomach.
FIFTY-SEVEN
Thronos’s pain continued to escalate.
He’d decided to leave, but at the last moment he’d felt as if he was on the verge of remembering something. So pain be damned. He remained in the forest glade.