Page 161 of Devoted

EMBERLINE

After nightmares filled with clicking mandibles and skittering legs, I woke to sunlight bathing me in warmth, rays streaming in from the round skylight above the bed. I’d slept so long and so deep, it took me a minute to remember where I was.

Emilia’s. The temple.

Safe.

I sank back into the soft mattress and took stock of my one remaining bedmate. Nico was snoring on his back—no surprise—one brawny arm thrown over his eyes against the light. I lay there for a moment, taking stock of my aching shoulders and bruised wrists, the sore spot on my hip I got when we were running from the Drax.

Or when I tumbled off the path.

Or from being thrown overboard and drowned.

So much nightmare fuel to choose from, I could probably take my pick. But yesterday was behind us, along with the burned-out villa and Rocco Fucking Demente.

Then Nico rolled over, mumbled something about cake, threw his arm over my waist, and started snoring again.

I ran my fingers through his hair, working out the tangles, trying to ground myself in reality.

We’re alive.

Such a pleasant surprise, given where we should be—waiting to be executed. I glanced again at the sun, breaking over the water, the way the light gilded every wave with gold.

Early morning, barely an hour past dawn.

Right now, we should be standing on a platform in the center courtyard of the Sala del Giuramento, hands tied behind our backs, a sword pressed to the nape of our necks while my uncle and the whole Dynasty watched.

I swallowed, blinking back the tears burning hot in my eyes.

We should be dead, but we’re not.

My uncle should have won, but he didn’t.

And soon, he was going to discover just how costly that mistake had been.

I dressed quietly, leaving Nico to sleep—given the fact he didn’t so much as stir, he needed it more than I did—and followed the smell of coffee.

Emilia’s east-facing dining room was flooded with morning light, the long table laid out with the kind of breakfast I hadn’t seen in months. Dark breads and soft cheeses, fresh fruit and pastries still crispy from the oven, and a coffee service that smelled like heaven.

“Thank all the gods, but mostly the java gods.” I poured myself a cup, gulped it down, then refilled to the brim. Death by coffee. Now that was something I could really get behind.

Emilia floated in, immaculately dressed, not a hair out of place, a fresh bite mark on her neck, followed by a stranger… no, not a stranger. Lucien. I remembered him from the fortress. And right behind them….

“Severin.”

He crossed the room and yanked me into a soldier’s embrace, crushing the air out of my lungs, hand patting firmly between my shoulder blades. There, just beneath his jaw… another bite mark. I looked between him and Emilia and made a completely unfounded assumption, which I dismissed immediately.

“Good morning,” I said brightly, trying to ignore the fact his top three buttons were undone.

“You look like hell,” Severin said warmly, holding me at arm’s length. “I heard what happened. By the time I got word your uncle was on the move, it was already over. I’m sorry.”

“We’re alive, that’s all that matters.” I looked up at him. “When did you get here?”

Stupid, stupid question, Emberline. You don’t care what time he got here; his personal life is none of your business. And yet, some nibby nosy piece of me really, really wanted to know.

“Last night. Late. You were already in bed.” He released me, his eyes softening when they cut to Emilia, full of… okay, this was weird.

Then Severin reached out and caught Emilia’s hand. She looked at him with an expression I’d almost call fond, and everything fell into place.