Only now would they summon for him what he had always desired. Someone who might love him for who he was. And to let their sadism unveil in such a fashion was all by design.

  The Ancients must have planned this from the start. They had twisted them all to their designs so that Aon would have to suffer the reality he now endured.

  There was another who could have loved him in return.

  And for her sake, he had no choice but to destroy that love or render it false in his selfish desire.

  To make her a dreamer was a far crueler twist of the blade to the warlock’s ribs. To taunt him with the very thing he had nearly destroyed this world in his quest to own was too much. It brought Lyon a heartache that was visceral. “Oh, Aon…”

  That was why the warlock had called him here. Lyon was the only soul alive on this earth who knew the truth of the story, save the dread king himself. The only one who might see the magnitude of the suffering he now shouldered.

  “I need you to go to her, for I cannot,” Aon said after a long pause, unable to bring himself to respond to Lyon’s expression of sympathy. Lyon understood. To acknowledge the pain would be to double the burden. To speak it was to give it power. Aon kept his voice quiet and measured instead. But Lyon knew the wound in his soul must be bleeding. “She will be in need of a friend.”

  Lyon bowed his head, this time in acquiescence. “Of course.” He would do so gladly. “If the others ask for what has become of the boy, what shall I say?”

  “Tell them the truth. However much of it you see fit.”

  Lyon blinked in surprise. He did not merely mean about the death of the shifter. His tone, empty and devoid of life, revealed Aon meant about all of it. “No, my lord. That story is for you alone to tell.” Lyon tilted his head thoughtfully. “And I will not mention to anyone your feelings toward the girl. Should Edu find wind of it, it may put her in harm’s way once more.”

  “Edu will not stop. He will seek her life, on the gamble that it might even irritate me. He needs no confirmation or denial to do the deed.”

  “I will do all I can to stop this.”

  “I think she may be able to handle herself.” Lyon almost detected a hint of pride in his voice. “I only hope I am there to witness it.”

  Lyon smiled faintly. Yes. That was distinct pride in what the girl had become. He was eager to see it for himself. Aon waved a hand to dismiss him, and Lyon bowed at the waist and turned to exit the room.

  “Oh, and Lyon?”

  The Priest paused.

  “Be wary of her companion. It is…Oh, never mind. You will discover it on your own. I am sure you will be fine. You are the likable one, after all.”

  That brought Lyon no comfort.

  ***

  Everything was a mess.

  These ruins, her thoughts, her life, all of it. So, like any mess, you had to start somewhere. Just picking up the pieces one at a time and sorting through the insanity.

  Unable to come to terms with what Aon had done, she focused on her new home. The stone city was much larger than just the enormous step pyramid that dwarfed all the other buildings near it.

  The pyramid sat at the end of a reflecting pool. It was hundreds of feet long and at least a hundred wide, rectangular, and designed to show off the buildings that surrounded it. The liquid looked clear, but Lydia suspected it was much deeper than the one outside the library near the Opera House in Boston. She wasn’t about to go jumping in to find out.

  On the other end of the reflecting pool was a much smaller step pyramid, one with a much larger building atop it—shorter and squatter. Q had taken her there last night and said it was once Qta’s home. Awkward, but she didn’t much care right now.

  She found the room that Qta must have used as a bedroom, and the wooden furniture was wrecked and destroyed, rotted and overgrown with vines and trees, reclaimed by the wildlife. There was a large, smooth stone platform that had tattered pieces of cloth on it. It was a bed, whose cushions and sheets had long since rotted away. She cleared it off until it was as clean as she could get it and curled up on the stone surface, using Q’s tail as a pillow.

  She felt as desolate as the bed did.

  Waking up had been another story.

  At first, she thought Q must have been to blame. Or Aon. Or somebody. Somebody had to have brought the cushions of all sizes and shapes, a giant collection of multi-colored pillows embroidered in wild patterns. It wasn’t exactly traditional, but man, it was comfortable.

  Q had been buried in them, using them as a pet snake might use substrate in a tank to hide. The sight of his nose poking out with his flicking turquoise tongue had made her laugh. She had needed to laugh. He said she was the one who had done it. That her being home was repairing the city.

  And sure enough, the ruins of the room looked much less, well, “ruin-y.” The place Lydia had fallen asleep in looked straight out of Indiana Jones. The room she woke up in had furniture that was intact and whole. Moonlight streamed uninterrupted through holes in the thick stone walls that served as windows. Rolled dried sticks tied together with strings like porch shades draped in front of them, swinging gently in the breeze.

  Healing the world, healing the home. Kumbaya or some bullshit.

  She needed a change of clothes. She didn’t want to wear the simple black cotton dress from Aon’s home any longer. Standing in front of a pane of what looked like antique silvered glass, she looked at herself.

  Turquoise lines on her face, in writing she couldn’t understand. She looked down at her arms and saw no marks floating beneath the surface like she had last night. Her hair was disheveled, and she was just…a mess.

  At least she could look dignified. She demanded to be different. Just willed it. Just as she had when she dissolved Aon’s weird dark tendril around her neck, she reached out with herself and reshaped the world to better suit her.

  Everybody in this world tried to look as badass as possible, as much as possible. Lydia didn’t know if she was going to be capable of that. Start small, she figured. A turquoise tank top and dark gray linen cargo pants. Strappy sandals. Casual but comfortable if she was going to be bombing around a humid jungle.

  She wondered if it was a real jungle. It was hot enough to be one. What constitutes a real jungle, idiot? Of course, it’s a real jungle.

  How queenly, Q remarked on her clothing choice.

  “Shove it,” she shot back but smirked. Q flitted across the room and changed his scale to curl around her neck, and she kissed the side of his head affectionately. He nuzzled her cheek in response. “I’ll dress fancy when I have to. I don’t even know what that’ll mean, but I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

  Mmhm. Sure. You could always just go naked like Kamira.

  “Yeah, no. Thanks. I bet that chafes.”

  One last thing she had to do before going out and about. There was a stone shelf on the wall. Really, it was a rock that just jutted out more into the room than any of the others near it, but it would do. She picked up the wooden mask from the bed where she had left it and ran her thumb over the dark green carving on its cheek.

  Lydia wiped at the tears that fell and didn’t try to hide them. There was nobody else here. Q nuzzled her cheek again as she walked over to the stone on the wall and gently placed the mask on it, standing up on its edge.

  “He died because of me,” she said to Q, feeling the heartbreak threaten to boil over into sobs again. “You can try to say he didn’t, but if I were still dead, he’d be alive. If I’d never come here. If I had just—” She broke off and pulled in a deep breath and let it out in a wavering sigh. There weren’t any more what-ifs for Nick. There was no point in wondering what could have happened if she had done anything differently.

  He was going to kill Nick anyway. Even if you escaped earlier. You heard him.

  “It doesn’t make it any better.”

  I know. I’m sorry, Cupcake…

  Lydia shook her head as she walked out of the room to go explore her new home. She’d have a long time to mourn Nick. She wasn’t going to age and die now. Death by other means was still in question. She had plenty of time to deal with her grief unless Edu put a stop to that.

  She tried to break herself out of her sulking. Grief was never something she coped with normally, to be honest. Every time she lost a pet or a family member, she would try to make herself as busy as possible to focus on anything other than the pain. And she had ruins to clean. A home to rebuild. Focusing on something practical would help.

  The sky was dark, dotted with clouds. It had still been pouring when she arrived last night, and it seemed the rain was just starting to let up. Several moons were glowing overhead, casting the clearing of the city in beautiful mixed light. And around them were…stars.

  There were stars.

  Under hadn’t had any stars in fifteen hundred years. Not since Qta died. She had brought them back. Just by her being alive like this, the stars had come back.

  Beautiful in their thousands, glowing brightly in their numbers with no light pollution to hide them. Lydia made her way down the massive steps of her new home to the reflecting pond that stretched out in front of her. The lake cast back at her the image of the night sky.

  It was stunning.

  So she lay on her back on one of the colossal stone blocks that ringed the pond and looked up at the sky. None of the patterns of stars were recognizable. Although she didn’t expect them to be. This wasn’t Earth.

  Q was flying overhead, circling the pond, soaring in the sky, pulling loops as he glowed eerie and turquoise against the night sky. Well, it was always night. She also had no idea what the hell time of day it was. It didn’t matter.

  She couldn’t stop staring at the stars.

  Everything in her life was messed up.

  And that—that view right there—was why the Ancients had done it.

  “Q?” she asked the swirling thing far overhead. It was well out of earshot, but she knew Q didn’t need to hear her for him to answer.

  Yeah?

  “Tell me this place has wine.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Well, it hadn’t been wine, per se.

  It was more like hard alcohol. It tasted like honey whiskey—thank god it wasn’t tequila—and she couldn’t complain about the flavor. What it was, though, was intense as hell. She had to pace herself to keep from getting trashed.

  I wonder what my alcohol tolerance is now.

  Well, let’s find out.

  She was still lying on that stone, looking up at the stars, the bottle next to her on the block. Q had decided to go for a dip and was in the reflecting pool somewhere. The snake loved to bury himself in things or be in the water, and she could tell he was super thrilled to be home.

  It’d probably been hours since she started looking up at the stars and thinking. Coming to terms with what she was certainly came easier with a bottle of alcohol in her hand and proof of why she had to suffer.

  Seeing the weight of what she represented, she couldn’t very well jump into a fire and kill herself. This world needed her to live.

  At least until Edu killed her.

  Lydia let out a dark sigh as she looked up at the beautiful array of stars overhead. This world needed her to live, fine. But Edu didn’t seem to care. He would come for her, and he’d try again. Lydia wasn’t sure what his excuse would be this time, but he didn’t really need one.

  There was the movement of wings nearby, and something flitted in the corner of her eye. She lifted her head and saw Lyon materialize a dozen feet away from a swarm of bats. He was wearing all white like he always was, looking like a pale drop of paint on a dark rug.

  “Oh, hey, bud,” she greeted the Priest with a smirk.

  “Are you drunk?” Lyon eyed the bottle.

  “Working on it.” She sat up with a huff and swung her legs over the edge of the block. She held the bottle out to the priest, offering him some. It was a dark green onion bottle, clearly hand-blown and ancient.

  Lyon considered it for a moment then shrugged once and walked toward her to take the bottle. He sniffed it, took a sip, and handed it back. Lydia patted the stone next to her, inviting him silently to join her. He was obviously here to talk, and honestly, she was a little surprised nobody had come sooner.

  “How are you?” he asked after a pause. She took a swig from the bottle and handed it back to him. He took another drink before setting it down between them.

  “On the verge of a mental breakdown. Angry—no, furious—at Aon.”

  “I can imagine.” Lyon’s stoic features creased briefly in sympathy before smoothing back to their perfect alabaster finish. There was always a deep sadness in his eyes, mournful like the carved statues in a church. “Just at Aon? What of the rest of us? I have come to see if you are well. If you are…what is the word…”

  “Coping?”

  He nodded.

  Lydia pointed upward.

  Lyon blinked, confused, and looked up into the sky. He pulled in a startled breath. He had been so intent on her, he hadn’t seen the stars when he arrived. He was stunned to silence, agog. He seemed as caught up in their beauty as she was. He finally shook himself loose and looked down at the bottle between them. He picked it up and took a hard swig.

  That sent Lydia into a peal of laughter, leaning back on her elbow. “You’re all right, Lyon.”

  “Thank you?” He was clearly dubious that her modern words were a compliment. Lyon shook his head and looked back up the stars. “It is still raining everywhere but here. I…this is…a miracle.”

  “That’s why I’m not more upset about being a dreamer, I guess.” She lay back on the stone and folded an arm under her head. The rough block was prickly otherwise. “You only did what Ziza’s visions told you to do. I have the Ancients to blame, and it’s hard to be pissed at a world for making you when you see why.”

  “That is very wise and compassionate of you, Ms. Lydia.”

  “Just call me Lydia. Or, hey, call me Lyd. All your idiot kings have three letter names,” she said with a snort. “That’s really funny.”

  Lyon was smiling down at her. “Yes, it is quite fitting. It gives me great hope to see that you are not beside yourself. I did not know what to expect when I found you.”

  “I’m trying to deal with one thing at a time. I can’t come to terms with anything else if I don’t start at the top. So step one is being okay with what I am now and understanding why it had to happen. Step two is to try to sort out all the rest of this bullshit.”

  “Which is what, specifically?”

  “Aon. Edu. Aon killing Nick. What I’m going to actually do now.” Lydia sat up again, feeling fidgety. She stood from the block and walked away from Lyon a few steps, pacing, needing to move. “He killed my best friend, Lyon. In front of me.”

  “I know, and my heart weeps for your loss. I cannot express the extent to which I wish it were not so.”

  Lyon meant it, she could tell. She stopped her pacing and smiled sadly. “Thanks. I just—” She didn’t know what she even wanted to say. Lydia growled and ran her hand back through her hair. The subject of Aon was such a giant, ugly disaster, she didn’t even want to open that box. “Sorry. I don’t know what to think.”

  “It is quite all right. Please do not apologize. You have nothing for which to do so. You are handling this with more grace than many.” Lyon stood from the block in order to bow at the waist. Lydia opted not to tease him for his over-the-top manners. “I am here if you are ever in need. For counsel or simply for someone to listen.” He stood from his bow.

  He was offering himself as a friend. If it were anyone else, she wouldn’t trust him. She’d suspect it was a political ploy. But all she’d ever seen from Lyon was that he was a stand-up guy. She honestly did forgive him for his betrayal. He was weird. Definitely weird. And with the emotional range of a ceramic bowl. But he was honest, and she believed he meant well. “I’d like that, Lyon. Thanks. God only knows I could use more than one person to talk to.”

  “Hm?” Lyon blinked curiously. “Who is the other?”

  As if on cue, sensing his chance to make an entrance, her ghostly snake companion loomed up out of the reflecting pool behind Lyon. He was now fifty feet long or more, and his clawed wings grasped the ring of stones as he lifted himself up to tower over the man.

  Lyon was still unsuspecting as Q bent his long neck over the vampire to look at him upside-down some five feet in front of the poor man.

  “Sup.”

  Well, there was a new emotion to add to the logbook for Lyon. Startled-as-shit terror. The man in white let out an undignified noise and threw himself backward from Q, staggered, tripped over himself, and landed heavily against the stone block. He had tried to get away from the floating head but instead had fallen toward where the giant winged snake was perched.

  Lyon looked up at the massive creature over him, and he froze, unsure of what to do or how to run from something like that. Q snickered loudly and fluffed the glowing feathers of his wings. “Ooh, that’s fun. I like scaring people.”

  “Stop it, Q. He was being nice,” Lydia scolded the giant snake. Q darted at Lyon, causing the priest to jolt in fear. “Quit it already.”

  “Fine,” Q said with an exaggerated sigh. “Spoilsport.” Q shrank to the size of a horse and coiled himself at Lyon’s feet, reared up still like a cobra. “You can get up now, y’know.”

  Lyon obeyed, unsure and stuttering in his movements, and used a palm against the stone to push himself up to standing. “I…suppose you are the one about which I was warned.”

  “By who? Aon? Yeah. I squeezed him to death. Squished his internal organs and broke every bone in his torso. Asshole had it coming.”

  “Well…” Lyon stopped, still stunned, and began again. “Lydia, is he your creation?”

  “No. Well, not exactly. As far as I can tell, Q is me.” Lydia stepped over Q’s tail and reached up to ruffle the feathers on the back of his head. Q shrank again and curled up on her shoulder, wrapping his long, smoky tail around her neck. “He’s all the knowledge and power that I should have received from the pool, all bottled up. It was either that or I stop being me. I guess I somehow knew to make the world’s most annoying sidekick instead.”