Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 14

I stared at the young victim of my selfishness—guilt lodged in my throat, stomach clenched in shock.

Jackson's skin was pale, his untrimmed hair as brown as the cave walls entombing us. He had the build of an artisan, not a soldier, and yet here he was, clad in leather armor with a deadly weapon at his side.

It felt so long ago when I'd knocked him out, stolen his helmet, and robbed him of his spot in the Tournament. And I hated to say it, but I'd completely forgotten about him in the midst of war, despite the dramatic impacts my actions had on his life path. Actions that had led him here, separated from his family.

"Jackson, I am so sorry," I whispered, shaking my head back and forth. "There's nothing I can say to justify what I did. I was only thinking of myself, and I'm sorry for everything I've put you through."

Mason gaped at me, having assumed the boy was joking, but no one else seemed very surprised by our history. Beckett looked like he was holding back a fit of laughter, and the other guard had given up on his interrogation altogether.

Jackson waved away my concerns, and the high-pitched ringing faded away as the remaining bats fled the cavern. "I didn't want to compete anyway, and it looks like you made good use of your Tournament ranking. I'm just happy to hear my family's okay." His eyes darted back to Mason. "They are okay, right?"

"They're safe in Havenbrooke," the blond replied. "Knowing you're alive will restore their spirits, though."

In other words, no, they're not okay, but they will be.

"What happened?" I asked. "How did you end up...here?"

Jackson scratched the back of his head. "Basically...a demon patrolling the arena found me. It was after dark at that point, and he was all alone, so I was able to fight him off and slip out of Belgate unnoticed. Then I ran into some Rhean refugees along the Rim, and they took pity on me and offered to bring me with them." He glanced at his fellow guard, his gaze heavy. "I've learned a lot since then."

I could only imagine. I'd had to unlearn plenty this past year, from Rhean culture to political landscapes to paranormal entities. Ells had lied to us about everything.

"So we've made it then," Will said. "To the safe haven."

The taller guard—a vibrant redhead with dark green eyes—slid off his mask, revealing a harsh scowl and the jawline of a man in his mid-twenties. "You haven't made it anywhere yet. You may be friends of friends, but you're still Ellsian."

Torian clicked his tongue, stepping out from behind a thick stalactite. "He's no Ellsian, Campbell. And neither am I."

I scrunched my nose. What the hell was a Campbell?

Green eyes narrowed on the medic. "Clan name."

"Abadi," Torian answered. "I come from a long line of doctors in Colona."

"...The Kashifs?"

Tori nodded proudly, and the guard let out a breath. "Good. Your cousins are here. They'll be pleased to know you've escaped." He turned to Will, skeptical and unimpressed. "And what about you, Stripes?"

I puffed my cheeks at the insult, embarrassed for everyone in this situation, while Valerie covered her mouth to capture her giggles. Will looked beyond peeved, and I couldn't blame him. This reception was probably the last thing he expected.

"I'm a descendent of the Sterling Clan," the prince said, and Jackson looked to me, bewildered. As a student in Belgate, he'd only ever known Will as Tooms, the carpenter's apprentice with a bad attitude and a steady sword hand.