known about her, probably longer than they have known about it. I think she needs to…confront it. It could be…life-changing for everyone.”
“You know she could die,” Alchan said, his hot temper fully ignited now. “You know it!”
“Yes. I also know you could die. I also knew I could die the night I offered my very soul to my goddess in exchange for the chance to love Nevyn for a little while longer and to be with him. Every time a new queen sits on the throne, there is a chance she will be found unworthy, and she will die. This is the risk we take. We are Andinna, a warrior people who don’t fear death. We laugh at it and see how long we can out-fly it. Don’t yell at me about the risks, Alchan. I know them!”
Luykas had never heard or seen Varon get really angry before, but he was certainly heated in this conversation.
“Get out of my house,” Alchan snarled.
“Alchan—” Varon tried, but Luykas knew this battle was lost.
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” the king roared.
Varon stiffened. It was as though a rush of power went through the room, and Nevyn groaned, leaning over. Varon helped him stand with the gentleness they all knew him for, but there was no mistaking the anger in the Avatar’s eyes. They left Alchan and Luykas in that room, Varon making a point to slam the door hard enough the hinges broke.
“Fucker,” Alchan snarled. “And he’s the Skies damned Avatar of Amonora, so I can’t even fucking do anything about it.”
“Why?” Luykas asked softly.
“He’s my equal rank,” Alchan muttered bitterly. “He’s actually outside the ranking altogether. He would answer to me if…” His brother growled again. “Avatars answer to Avatars, which I am not. He’s never had to follow my orders for a fucking day in his life, and he knows it. He knows I know it. And he broke my fucking door!” Alchan was roaring again at the end.
Luykas slowly stood. “I’ll fix the door, brother.”
“You know I can’t, right? If I thought it was a good idea or a safe one, I would have done it a thousand years ago. To have that power would certainly win us the war, but if I die, there’s no chance of anyone claiming it again.”
“I know,” Luykas said gently. He had to be careful. His brother hated being angry like this, but it happened on rare occasions. This was one of the dark sides of the bedru nature—the deep, unsettling rage that had consumed their father and made him to be a monster. Luykas was fortunate he was free of this particular curse. He had dominance and some anger in him when he needed it, but he never went into this.
When Luykas was done fixing the door, he closed his brother in. He stopped Rain and Lilliana from going inside.
“You should come spend some time at my home,” he whispered to them. “Even you, Rain. He needs some time.”
“What happened?” the little female asked softly.
“Nothing we can do anything about,” Luykas answered sadly as he led them away from the fiery rage inside that door.
33
Mave
Mave spent the next day in bed. While she was there, she finally read Varon’s words. She was becoming more curious by the moment, staring at them where her husbands had placed them, unopened and unread. She was glad they weren’t nosy.
Part of her was afraid. She and Varon never connected, not really. He was a quiet male who talked of things she didn’t much care about, not until recently—gods and goddesses, dragons, prayer, faith, belief. Things Mave had tried to give up years ago, even before she knew the names of the dragons. She couldn’t really do that anymore. They were real, real enough to reach out to her and haunt her dreams and make her great.
And fill her with false hope.
She grabbed the letters, facing the fear, and opened them. Pages. There were pages. Because of the Andinna style of writing, in glyphs from top to bottom, it took pages for him to write down what he wanted to say to her.
Mave,
You might be curious why I would write to you. We’ve never been particularly close, only bonded by our shared time as warriors in the Ivory Shadows. I represent something we both know you would rather avoid. Nevyn told me of your reaction to the story of him and me. I can’t say I blame you.