“Would that make me a princess of heaven?” she asked with a chuckle. “Would we have much gold up there?”
“You’ll have me—and you like me far better than gold!” He tickled her, chasing her around the meadow while she squealed with laughter.
Of the first time he’d taken her flying . . .
She peeked up from his chest, her eyes wide, as blue as the sky they crossed. “Thronos, this . . . this . . . let’s never go back down!”
Of them as children caught in the rain, on the very day his father had later raided the abbey.
Thronos took her in his arms, and she leaned against him.
When the drops grew heavier, he spread his wings over his head, creating a shelter. “I’ve always room for you too.”
She nestled against him. As they watched the rain fall, she sighed, “I love you, Thronos.”
His heart felt too big for his chest, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat to answer her.
He’d squandered the treasure he’d been given.
His claws and horns were gone, but he hadn’t budged the stone. Blood from his hands and head painted his enemy.
That stone . . . not a godsdamned inch.
Unmovable. So too would he be.
Tears blinded him when he realized the stone would be her grave marker. Thronos closed his eyes and took comfort in knowing that they would share it.
THIRTY-TWO
Melanthe whispered, “Something’s behind me, isn’t it?”
Thronos’s eyes shot wide open. She stood before him on the path, frozen, her black hair haloed by purple clouds.
With not a mark upon her. He was unwounded as well.
“What is this, sorceress?” he rasped. “Real?” Of course not; he must be delirious, still sitting in his own blood, his back against the gravestone, dreaming this. But what if . . . “Do you have no memory of what’s just occurred?”
“We were fighting, as usual,” Melanthe snapped under her breath. “Focus, Thronos—what’s behind me?!”
That same hound howled and charged; with a screech, she took off past Thronos.
“Melanthe, watch for resin!” What the hell is happening? I am in hell.
No, maybe a benevolent god was giving him a second chance to save her!
On that thought, he did a swift about-face, readying for the side attack. He knew what was coming.
The second hound leapt; Thronos evaded as his wings lashed out, blinding the beast.
One down.
He’d taken the hound out earlier this time. The events would be different; he could snag Melanthe before the other beast got too close. He took to the sky, planning to scoop her into his arms.
The hound pursuing Melanthe must have heard Thronos’s wings swooping; it veered from him—
Suddenly its body crumpled. Its front paw was stuck in resin!
See how you like it, beast!