Ikelos (The Ephemeral: Book 2)

Chapter 4

A week passed, but my mind kept drifting back to the Rhean prince—like a moth to the lantern that kills it.

I was supposed to have faith in him. At least, that was the same hollow advice everyone imparted. And logically, I knew Will was capable of pulling this off. I knew he could succeed. But his absence weighed on my bones, and I couldn't bear this anxious mass much longer.

He told me he'd come back with unwavering conviction. He told me only death would keep him away, and that if he didn't return in time, to assume the worst.

But he wasn't dead.

I could just...feel it.

Maybe it was my spirit's heightened senses, or maybe it was all superstition. But that day in the woods, Nova told me to think with my heart, and in this moment, my heart avouched that something was very, very wrong.

Frustrated with my own circular thoughts, I dropped back down to earth, where my friends—and Mason—sat at a wooden dining table inside the lodge.

For the past ten minutes, Fudge had rambled on about the Ancients' Christmas lights, explaining their original application and suggesting we use them as a containment mechanism for the Pans. I'd zoned out almost instantly, too stressed to feign interest. But it was only when he began unpeeling the technological barriers that he lost the rest of the group, and Valerie finally noticed my troubled gaze.

"What is it, love?" she asked, leaning close to me, as if that would aid in her inspection.

I waved her away. "Nothing."

Fudge trailed off, concern swallowing the excitement on his face. "Are you sure?" He eyed my small plate. "You're not eating a lot."

"I'm not very hungry."

"It's okay. We all know the only person capable of getting you to eat a proper meal is your boyfriend," Valerie teased.

I bristled at their snickering. "Okay. I thought we all agreed not to call him that?"

"Actually, you ordered us not to, and we chose blatant disobedience."

I glared at her, and the archer held up an apple as a peace offering.

Val and I had grown surprisingly close over the last few weeks, bonding over our hatred for the patriarchy and our mutual worry for Will. She talked a lot, but I guess it was good, because then I didn't have to expend any energy.

I accepted the apple. Then I held it out beside me at arm's length and dropped it to the floor, expressionless and unapologetic. Richard immediately scooped it up in his mouth and took off with it—the perfect punctuation to my rejection.

Valerie rolled her eyes, but my dramatics made her smile.

"So what's got you in a such a bad mood then?" Mason asked from across the table. He pointed his fork at me. "That time of the month?"

I scowled at him, and my eyes raked over the wooden bow slung over his shoulder.

A month ago, Mason claimed that archery was an easy, uncomplicated sport made for cowards. And Valerie, finding his declaration amusing, had proposed an archery challenge so the welt could prove just how easy it was. Obviously, Mason accepted the dare with the confidence of an elite male, only to be schooled in front of the entire camp when he barely grazed his targets. Meanwhile, Valerie struck the bulls-eye every time—drunk and blindfolded.

After humiliating him in front of his peers, the saint of a woman offered to personally train him, which Mason had, predictably, balked at and refused. But a couple weeks later, she'd found him practicing on his own in secret, and she'd joined him, offering unsolicited pointers here and there. Since then, it had become part of their weekly routine, and Valerie insisted the welt was grateful for her help, even if he never said so.