Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 31

"—you can't date her, idiot. She's a literal spirit monster," one of them said.

"Yeah, a hot one," the shortest declared.

We slowed to a stop behind them, and I smiled at an unamused Rover.

"Some dream," another scoffed. "She'd touch you and kill you, welt."

"Worth it."

A blond boy folded his arms over his chest. "She's already dating that Sterling guy, isn't she?"

"Oh yeah? Where is he, then?"

"Yeah, I thought they broke up."

The brunette in glasses shook his head. "He stayed at the Rhean colony to secure our alliance. He's a literal king, you nut-heads. You can't compete with that."

"Most of you are too old to have an opinion, anyway. The girl's like sixteen," the first tacked on.

"I'm eighteen, actually," I announced, and the boys jumped out of their skin, whirling around to face us.

Their horror brought a toothy grin to my face, and they respectfully bowed their heads, acknowledging my presence and a scowling, seething Rover. Then they dispersed, tittering like school children.

"Well, that was disgusting," the captain complained as we pushed into the barn. He sent me a curious side-eye. "Why'd you lie?"

"I didn't lie."

"You're seventeen."

"I was. My birthday was in January."

He stopped dead in his tracks to stare at me. "What?"

Oh, gritz.

Maternal panic welled in his eyes, and I rushed to put an end to it before he wept over the milestone. "Rover...it's fine. It's not a big deal. I didn't even realize the date had passed until I saw Siren's calendar."

From her place at the sand table, Siren sighed miserably at the mention of Ellen's pregnancy chart. The planner included a myriad of items to purchase, things to do, and deadlines to meet before the baby arrived, and Siren and Victor were weeks behind schedule. Hell, the couple couldn't even agree on baby names. We all referred to the fetus as Nameless just to grind their gears, and Jo already bet money on their inability to come to a consensus before the kid arrived.

"You're an adult now," Rover whispered, as if he'd watched over me these last eighteen years, and Siren and I both rolled our eyes at the emotion coating his voice. "We have to celebrate."

"Pass."

"Come on, Fuse. It'll be a good excuse to let off some steam for a night! Everyone needs a bit of light fun with all this talk of the apocalypse."

"Everyone? Or just you?"

He slapped his hand to his chest. "I speak on behalf of the people, of course." When I didn't budge, he pursed his lips. "Look, I know you miss your boyfriend, but he'd want you to enjoy yourself every once in a while, not work yourself into the ground."

Siren tsked. "Wright just wants an excuse to get drunk."

"Not true!" The heathen draped his arm over my shoulder to steer me away from the archer. Then he lowered his voice. "Okay, a little true. But I haven't had a drop of alcohol since you left for Freemont, and you-know-who forces me to work after hours." He hung his head. "I miss being the charming lieutenant who spent his nights at the tavern, you know? This leadership stuff is overrated."

I snorted, patting the hand that dangled over my collarbone. Siren had every capable soldier working overtime, including our fatigued captain, but I knew he welcomed her ambition. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, and even General Iver feared their partnership. Any sane person would.