Jaws dropped.

Cadeon recovered first. “You? Camping?” He snorted. “Much less camping in hell!”

“Cade.” Holly slapped his chest.

He muttered, “You gotta admit that’s funny.”

Lanthe piped her lip and blew a braid out of her eyes. Apparently everyone here had forgotten that she’d already camped in hell. Granted, she hadn’t been alone. . . .

Sabine said, “I was opposed to you going by yourself for just an hour or so! Now you want to go indefinitely? And if you tell me it’s really not that bad there one more time, I might scream.”

“I’ve set everything in motion here that I can. In a few days, I’ll check in for news.”

“And to provide proof of life,” Rydstrom said.

Cadeon gave him a damn straight look.

“If I haven’t found Thronos in three weeks, I’ll return to summon him. And, Sabine, it’s really not that bad there.”

When Sabine parted her lips to argue, Lanthe said, “This baby bird’s gotta fly, sis.”

“Great,” Sabine drawled. “She’s already speaking in avian metaphors.”

Holly chuckled, then made her face serious once more.

Lanthe gazed at her sister, hating that she worried. But there was nothing she could do about it. “It’s time for me to go. I’m recharged, resolved, and ready to do this—on my own.”

Rydstrom drew Sabine close. “She’s got a point, cwena.” Demonish for little queen, his nickname for her. “There comes a time when you just have to trust. I had to do that with Cadeon.”

“Only took him fifteen hundred years,” Cadeon remarked. Aly blew a bubble and tugged on her pointed ear at the same time, which Cadeon clearly thought was a marvelous feat.

“At least leave the portal open,” Sabine said, “until we can be sure you even got to the right realm.”

In a grousing tone, Lanthe muttered, “Fine. Just so you won’t worry so much.”

“Don’t forget what we talked about, Lanthe,” Rydstrom told her. Now that he knew what Thronos was really like, he was cordially offering refuge in Rothkalina to every Vrekener. Sabine was grudgingly co-offering it.

“Thank you for that.” But Lanthe had another idea. It was so crazy, she hadn’t mentioned it to a soul. . . .

Dreaming of reuniting with Thronos and restoring his memory, she felt sorcery coursing through her. She raised her hands and began to open a rift.

For me—and for our halfling.

Lanthe directed the door straight to the glade (in theory). Squeezing her eyes shut, she inwardly begged that she’d find floating bubbles—and not a giant stomach.

FIFTY-SEVEN

Thronos’s pain continued to escalate.

He’d decided to leave, but at the last moment he’d felt as if he was on the verge of remembering something. So pain be damned. He remained in the forest glade.

Thronos knew pain. He could handle it.

The day was beginning its long, slow fade to twilight. Considering this realm’s sluggish passage of time, he’d already been away from the outpost far too long. But leaving this place would be cowardly. And he was no—

Movement behind him? He twisted around.

In the center of this glade, the air blurred. A gap opened, a portal.

Cautiously stepping from it was the most breathtaking female Thronos had ever seen.

Long raven hair. Plump red lips. Eyes as blue as the skies he’d lost when his kingdom fell.

That raw emptiness, that maddening absence began to . . . ease? As if some magnet were pulling him toward her, his feet started to close the distance between them.

But she was dressed as a sorceress, with a metal headdress and breastplate, an unusual gold necklace—and leather trews that lovingly molded to her generous curves. He scrubbed his palm over his mouth, needing to focus; difficult when treated to such a sight.

A sorceress might fear he meant her harm. After Morgana, he supposed he should be suspicious of this one as well.

If he announced himself, would she run back into that portal, lost to him? At the thought, panic seized his chest. Why did he feel like she would run?

She caught sight of him, and her gaze widened, as if with disbelief. She dropped the bag she was carrying, taking a quick step forward, body tensed, those red lips parted.

He could almost swear she’d been about to leap into his arms before she’d stopped herself. Which couldn’t be right. A trick of the mind.

Raising his palms, he quickly said, “My name is Thronos Talos, and I mean you no harm, sorceress.”

“I know.” Her eyes started to shimmer with a blue metallic gleam. “I don’t mean you any harm either,” said the tiny female—who looked like she couldn’t hurt a fly.

But with Sorceri, appearances were deceiving.

Her friendly demeanor emboldened him to step closer to her. He struggled not to limp in front of such a beauty.

“I’m Lanthe.” She looked like running from him was the last thing on her mind. Again, he got the curious impression that she was barely holding herself in place.

She also showed no surprise at her surroundings, as if she’d been to this glade before. Thronos had half believed he was the only one who knew of it.

All around her, surreal drops floated and bubbles bobbed, but she never took her eyes from him. When she tilted her head, her black hair swept over her shoulder, sending tendrils of her scent toward him.

He inhaled greedily. His muscles shot tight with tension.