"I tried to protect you from this world," I say. "I didn’t want anyone sacrificing their life, their happiness, to try and help me. But I know, now, I should have told you. I should have let you make your own decision."

Pete nods, and then a warmth enters his eyes I haven’t seen since we reached Inferna. The tension leaves his body and he begins to weep.

And so I hug him.

And hold him.

And the three of us talk through the night, laughing about the past, and remembering how good it feels to have friends.

Chapter 8

THE PRIMAL ONE

"I want to be king. Out of all my brothers, I think I would be the best choice. Out of all of us, I alone want peace. I alone want to end this war. And with you, I know I can."

—Asher

Dean does as I ask, and Fen holds me as we attend the funeral for Lars the next morning, Es and Pete at my side. It is a quiet affair. Only the five of us.

Later that day, Varis resumes my training.

We study at the library I stumbled upon, pouring over books. Varis shows me a spell to translate the language of the Fae into any language I know, and I begin to make quick progress on my reading.

"The amount of knowledge here is astounding," says the Druid, as he studies the different shelves and their contents. "I thought the vampires would have destroyed such volumes. Some of these have even been lost to Avakiri."

I think on it, grateful for the distraction from mathematical spells. "The Princes of Hell still rely on magic for ease of life. They have Keepers and others who cast spells. These Fae must learn somehow."

Varis rubs his chin, studying a particularly dusty volume. He seems enthralled by the writing. "Yes, I believe you are right. I suppose I always thought the knowledge was passed down orally, through storytelling and lessons."

"It usually is," says a new voice. Dean, standing in the hallway, his shirt off again, his muscles glistening under the golden hue of the lanterns. He looks a god amongst his domain. Perfect and powerful.

"My brothers burned most of the Fae texts they came across," he continues. "But I would not part with such knowledge, such beauty of language." He walks forward and pours himself a drink from a bottle on the table. He offers me one, but I shake my head.

"We are studying," says Varis.

Dean grins. "And I’m offering to make it a little more exciting."

The Druid shakes his head.

I sigh and reach for the drink. "Why not? I’ve studied all day, and yet I’ve learned nothing to help me fight."

Dean’s eyes go wide, and he turns to the Druid. "What are you teaching her, old man?"

"Old what—"

"Yami needs to learn combat, tactics. Don’t you Yami?" The dragon nods, licking his lips at our wine. "You see?"

Varis sighs, sounding very old indeed. "There are basics to be mastered first."

I take a sip of the wine, enjoying the sweetness of the drink, and make sure to keep it away from my rebellious dragon. "But I have fought with Yami before. Once, when Oren nearly killed me, Yami changed, grew larger than this room, and fought off Riku, the Fire Spirit, himself."

Varis sits down, closing his book. "Spirits can muster power when threatened. But it is a dangerous form."

Zyra, his silver owl who sits on a nearby shelf, nods.

"How do we access it?" I ask.

"You don’t. Not intentionally. Not unless it is absolutely necessary and awakened on its own. Like the time you describe."

I groan, closing the boring spells before me. "There must be a way."

"No," says Varis, not skipping a beat. "There is none." He glances at the book in his hands. Then back at me.

I study the volume. It is pitch black with a unique leather binding. Ancient Fae glyphs decorate the spine. "That one looks interesting."

"It’s not. Well, not for you anyway. It is a history of the fifth Air Druid and is primarily a description of his many political meetings."

Somehow, I just don’t believe him.

Varis clears his throat. "It is late. And time for rest. I will be in my quarters if you need me." He stands and leaves the library, Zyra on his arm. Though he tries to hide it, I see the black volume peeking out from under his robes.

Dean pours me another cup of wine. "Now, how about we have some fun?"

I glance between him and the mathematical tome before me. "Fun it is."

***

It's dark by the time we leave the palace, Dean dressed in a black vest, me in my two layers of white. "We should find Fen?" I say.

Dean raises an eyebrow. "And pull him away from training?"

"Right. Fen does prefer swords over… well… anything."

"Then let him have his fun while we have ours." Dean bows and offers me his arm. "Come, the games are about to begin."

"Games?"

"You’ll see, Princess." His eyes sparkle with excitement. "And then, you’ll wish you could stay here forever."

I chuckle, taking his arm and letting him escort me forward. On the way, various women wink and purse their lips at Dean, their delicate clothing revealing perfect bodies with long legs and smooth skin. "Come visit me later," they say in voices that remind me of song. "And who’s the new girl? Moving on already?"

Dean addresses them each by name, promising to… visit… with them later. If, of course, he’s not taken. He winks at me.