Dreadgod (Cradle Book 11) (27)

Lindon trusted in his own perception and Yerin’s, and in the scripts built into Windfall, so he was reasonably certain that no Monarchs could spy on them without them noticing. Even so, it was better to be careful about what they said.

And, of course, there was the oath he’d sworn. He couldn’t reveal the relationship between Dreadgods and Monarchs, but Malice had told him that only Monarchs and those soon expected to be Monarchs were ever informed. That meant he couldn’t explain things to Yerin, or Ziel, or even Mercy.

Which made the current situation awkward.

Yerin trusted him, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t frustrated. He half-expected her to teleport to a Monarch and demand an explanation of her own.

Ziel rose from behind the couch and stuck his horns in Lindon’s face. “What are we talking about?”

Yerin moved her arm away from her eyes. She and Lindon stared at Ziel from inches away.

“Apologies, Ziel, but what are you doing?”

“Popping out from the couch,” Ziel said, with a perfectly flat expression. “I thought it was what Eithan would do. Did it help?”

Lindon couldn’t find the right words.

Yerin made a thoughtful sound. “Bleed me, but it halfway did. If you’re looking for a tip, then veil yourself better next time. We could feel you coming.”

“I’ll do what I can,” Ziel said gravely.

“Don’t push yourself.”

Ziel straightened his spine, visibly steeling himself. “No…no, I can do it. To cheer you up.”

Lindon privately thought that if Ziel wanted to be more like Eithan, he would first have to learn to smile.

“Speaking of him, I’m nine parts sure that’s why we got that friendly invitation to their team. Couldn’t stop asking questions about him. One of them wanted to know if I was his daughter.”

Little Blue chirped out laughter, and Orthos snorted smoke.

“You look more like my daughter than his,” Orthos rumbled.

Yerin moved her eyes up to look at Lindon upside-down. “You get a royal audience with the Silent King? You his puppet?”

“Yes. Apologies, but I have to feed you all to a Dreadgod now.”

“I’d bet my spine that’s really what you’d say.”

Dross drifted out of the back of Lindon’s neck, giving an unnerving chuckle. [Speaking of the Silent King, we have presents for you. Perfectly innocent presents. Don’t we, Lindon?]

Everyone in the room turned to look at Lindon. Mentally, Lindon cursed Dross for the worst possible introduction.

“In the course of evacuating Dreadnought City, Dross and I exchanged words with the Silent King.”

Orthos coughed out a mouthful of apple.

Ziel’s face grew grim. “It can speak?”

“It knew me,” Lindon admitted. “It invited me to join it of my own free will, I suspect because it can’t capture me. And it made some…threats.”

[Against each of you,] Dross said. [By name.]

Yerin sat up abruptly, scattering the healing constructs in a swarm of green-and-red sparks. Little Blue’s gasp was a chime, and Dross drifted over to the Riverseed. [It didn’t mention you. Probably because it has something even more horrible in mind for you.]

Lindon smacked Dross on the back of the head and picked up the trembling Little Blue. “Blue and Dross and I will be fine. Everwood is on the other side of the world. Without something like the labyrinth, it would be difficult to travel through space to get here. Even if it did, it would have to leave its minions behind, and it’s the least-powerful Dreadgod on its own.”

“That’s like calling it the smallest mountain,” Yerin said.

“At least it’s not the biggest one. As far as we know, the only thing it can do at a distance is try to invade your dreams, so we have constructs to prevent that.”

Lindon hadn’t stowed three of his scripted boxes in his void key, but had kept them piled against the wall. He levitated two of them now on dense wind aura and drifted them before Orthos and Yerin.

Ziel walked over to the other box, and Lindon cleared his throat. “Apologies, but I had intended to give that one to Mercy.”

Ziel gave him a dead-eyed stare. “Mercy.”

“The Dreadgod mentioned her by name. He didn’t mention you.”

“…is Mercy here?”

“Ah, no. I do intend to make you one, just in case! Once I find more materials.”

“You’re going to make me one. Later. Instead of giving me the one right here.”

Lindon winced. “The Silent King mentioned Mercy, so I can’t help but feel that she’s in more danger.”

“Couldn’t the Sage of the Silver Heart make her something like this? And if she can’t, wouldn’t her family provide you with the materials?”

Lindon’s face heated. He hadn’t thought of that.

Dross slipped his voice into Lindon’s mind. [I thought of it. But I was hoping for this moment.]

“My sincere apologies, Ziel. I would be honored if you would take that construct.”

“Thanks.” Ziel picked up the box from the ground and removed the white-and-purple clamshell construct from inside.

Yerin patted Lindon on the knee.

“It works best when you keep it in your soulspace, if you have room,” Lindon said, to distract everyone from his embarrassment. “If you don’t, you can wear it in a locket or a bracelet close to your skin. It won’t last as long that way, and it might take effect more slowly, but it will still work.”