Ikelos (The Ephemeral: Book 2)

Chapter 2

"I'm fine," I insisted, pretending like I didn't feel the thundering pain in my left temple.

Rover tutted incredulously, and Siren rolled her eyes—something I'd never seen her do before and thoroughly enjoyed.

"You can't keep doing this to yourself," the archer said.

"I was just following orders."

Burroughs grunted from the corner of my cabin—Will's cabin, technically, with its blank wooden walls and butterscotch resin. I'd taken up residence here the day he left, and no one had asked me to relocate since. Although I was pretty sure no one had the heart to throw me out now.

Shadows inhabited the angles of Siren's face, and it made her cheekbones and hooked nose all the more striking. "You've been overworking yourself. If you're not training with Burroughs, then you're out there on your own, killing reptiles or bringing down trees. Your hair's going gray."

Embarrassed, I touched the back of my head. I thought I was the only one who noticed the silver fly-aways.

"It's true," Rover agreed, ignoring the look of betrayal on my face. "You're not taking care of yourself, and that was my only condition when I agreed to let you participate in these exercises to begin with. My concern for your safety is why we had Jo and Koji oversee your training—to make sure no one abused your power, including you."

"But I—"

"Just because you gained valuable intel from this experiment doesn't mean your recklessness is justified," he concluded, lifting his eyebrows. "You know your limits, Al. Don't push them."

I slumped back into the pillows, glaring at the two of them for ganging up on me.

The pair had forged an odd but powerful partnership over the last few months.  Though rocky at first, they'd quickly grown to rely on one another and their unique skill sets.  Now, their roles were clear: Siren handled logistics and cohort assignments, while Rover had become the congenial glue that held outlaws and federates together. A respected strategist and a beloved communicator.

And in many ways, a perfect team.

"Okay. I'll dial it back," I grumbled. "But if the Command—"

"I don't care what the Command says," Siren cut in. "Set some boundaries, or I'll assign you a 24-hour medic to do it for you."

I huffed, scowling at her for treating me like some kind of senile patient. "Seriously?  A babysitter? I thought you couldn't 'cage a bird and ask it to fly?'"

Understanding flickered in the woman's eyes, and her gaze turned sympathetic. She knew the feel of chains better than most. She knew how much I loathed this leash.

"A bird can't fly if it's dead," she reasoned, her voice kind but logical. "Now, please tell us exactly what you saw in that demon's head."

I proceeded to describe my experience in detail, including the disintegrating human presence, the demon's violent manifestation, and the information he and his spies had obtained. After a few minutes of thorough questioning, Siren and Burroughs left to discuss the news about Belgate, both of them trading muted insults on their way out the door.

As soon as they vanished around the wooden staircase, Rover collapsed on the bed next to me, his aqua eyes warm and larkish, his smile soft as sea-foam. "What am I gonna do with you, Fuse?"

I offered a feeble grin. "Sorry for the scare."

"It's alright. I subjected myself to unremitting paranoia the day I agreed to be Tom's second." He scooted closer, taking up way too much space on the bed and hogging all my pillows. "You Kingsleys are something else."

I laughed. It was easy to see why my brother had kept his lieutenant so close. Even when nothing made sense and the world was crumbling apart, Rover remained this beacon of everlasting humor and charisma. 

"I like the new look," he told me, swishing his hand beneath my short locks of hair and the frayed ends grazing my jawline. "Spunky."

I glanced down, pinching a loose curl between my thumb and forefinger. The choppy bob had been an impulsive haircut. I'd been trying to untangle the dark mess from a rubber band when I decided to chop the ponytail off instead. I didn't realize how liberating it would feel to go without the mop of knots, though, and only after the fact did I realize it made me look less innocent somehow. Older. 

Fiercer. 

"Thanks, Rove."

We sat in silence for a while, and Rover scanned the room with a pensive look on his face. His eyes lingered on the folded black shirt atop the dresser. The one collecting dust.

"You're worried about him," he said quietly. "Sterling."

I lifted a shoulder, trying my best to play indifferent, but I knew I wasn't fooling anyone. "It's been over two months. He said he'd be back by now."

Will had left ten weeks ago to infiltrate the royal family and stop them from annihilating the scraps of the human race. He told me to wait two months, and if he wasn't back by then, to assume he was dead— as if purging him from my mind was that simple. 

So for eight weeks I waited. I kept busy, training with Burroughs and familiarizing myself with Siren's crew and the Rim soldiers who frequented camp. I did everything I possibly could to distract myself from the noxious feeling in my gut. Then I gave him two more weeks to accommodate for poor weather or unanticipated delays. 

And now...now I didn't know what to think.  Had he lost his way? Was he in trouble?

Was he dead?

I glanced sideways, only to find Rover watching me in concern. "He's a smart kid, Al. He'll find his way back."

"And if he doesn't?"

The captain squeezed my kneecap over the blankets. "He will. He's too smitten not t—"

I punched him in the arm to kill the rest of his sentence, and he chuckled. But his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"What about you?" I asked, hoping to get out of the spotlight here, and far, far away from the topic of William Sterling. "How are you holding up?"

"Ah, well. I'm not, really," he admitted, and his transparency startled me. Sometimes I forgot people were capable of such candid vulnerability, especially in the military. "This whole captain thing...I'm trying to follow in Tom's footsteps, but Tom was unpredictable and bold and ingenious when he wasn't foolhardy." He puffed his cheeks on his exhale. "Right now I'm just piggybacking off of Siren, and no one is happy about that, least of all me."

I shook my head at him. "I don't think you're giving yourself enough credit, Rove. I mean, you saved the Interior from a demon invasion!  You inherited a broken army who'd lost their commanding officer and half their men." He met my encouraging gaze. "That's a lot to shoulder by yourself. There's no shame in needing a little help."

In fact, if Rover hadn't accepted Siren's aid, most of us would have perished in our efforts to save Holly. But his ability to set his ego aside and compromise saved thousands of Ellsian lives, and his decision to merge forces with a female-dominated company had prolonged humanity's dominion on this earth. Not to mention, he'd diversified our troops for the first time since the Crash, and the Command had no choice but to endure it.  

"I think you'd make Tom and Jaden really proud, Rover," I whispered.

His eyes wilted, and he sighed dramatically, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close—closer than I permitted most people. But Rover was a special case.

"I miss them, Fuse," he said, chin scruff grazing my temple, shaggy blond hair tickling my brow. "Tom, Jay, Sol. All of them."

I leaned into his warm embrace, closing my eyes to keep the pain inside—fearing its release might just split me open.

"Me too."