I dumped my towel down the laundry chute, my clothes in the bin, then—after a deep, steadying breath that did nothing to ease my nerves or shore up my courage—headed out.
“So,” Riley said, once we’d demolished the toasted egg and bacon sandwiches Quinn had made for the two of us. “Explain.”
I hesitated. “Before I do, there’s one thing you should be aware of. Hunter has Cazadors following me about astrally. She’ll now know—”
“Nothing,” Quinn interrupted. “At least nothing when it comes to what is said in this house. I’m well aware of Hunter’s predilection to use the Cazadors as her own private army and have taken steps to ensure they have no access to any of my houses or workplaces—physically or astrally.”
Meaning, no doubt, magic had been employed. There was little else that could stop astral travelers. It surprised me, but I’m not sure why. After all, he’d been around almost as long as Hunter, and while I’d never seen or heard anything that suggested he could perform spells, there was also no evidence saying he couldn’t—especially given that he not only was part Aedh, but had undergone priest training. But even if he couldn’t perform magic himself, I was betting he knew some very powerful individuals who could.
Either way, it was good to know that Hunter would have no idea what was said here. It gave us time, if nothing else.
So I filled them in on the loss of the second key, the opening of the second gate, the death of my father, and the intervention of the remnants, as well as their subsequent destruction of the Raziq.
“I’m surprised the remnants intervened,” Quinn commented, once I’d finished. “It is very rare.”
“Not that rare,” Riley commented. “Your father contacted you once, remember.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Your father is a remnant?”
Quinn nodded. “He is one of six who remained to protect the temples from outside forces.”
“Outside,” I said. “Not inside. Not the Raziq.”
“No.” Quinn’s brief smile held a grim edge. “Their reluctance to act against the Raziq is the reason they are remnants in the first place. Hence my surprise at their actions now.”
“They were left with little choice,” Azriel commented. “As it was, Malin very nearly destroyed both the temples and the gates.”
“So both Malin and the Raziq really are dead?” Riley asked. “No chance of resurrection?”
“No chance,” Azriel replied. “They are little more than scattered particles in distant skies.”
“The priests may be slow in acting,” Quinn noted, voice dry, “but they are very thorough when they do.”
“Well, good,” Riley said. There was something in her tone that had me picturing her mentally rolling up her sleeves. I tensed, not sure I was entirely ready for the fight ahead. She added, “Now, about Hunter—”
“No.” I said it quietly but firmly.
Riley raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, no?”
“Just that. I don’t want you involved. Not in any damn way. Hunter is my problem, not yours.”
“You cannot—”
“What I cannot do,” I cut in again, “is allow you, Quinn, and Rhoan to step into the middle of a situation that will endanger not only your lives, but those of your children. I won’t risk your future—or theirs—as I risked my mother’s. I couldn’t live with any more guilt like that. I won’t.”
She reached across the table and caught my hand. Her fingers were warm against mine, but her palms were calloused. It was a reminder that whatever else she was, she was first and foremost a fighter. She’d been through the mill and survived, but that knowledge served only to strengthen my resolve.
“Your mother’s death was not your fault, Ris—”
I pulled my hand from hers. “But it was, even if indirectly. She was targeted to create a void in my life. Your death—or Quinn’s, or Rhoan’s—would create the same sort of void, and Hunter is more than aware of that fact.”
“Hunter may threaten such an action,” Quinn said quietly. “But she would not take such a step; not until she is truly secure in her position and her power. She is close to that, but there are still those who oppose her.”
My gaze met his. “Harry Stanford?”
“He is her main adversary, yes.”
“And Stanford himself?”