Stormcaster (Shattered Realms #3)(34)

Evan’s heart all but stopped, and then it seemed like he couldn’t get his breath. It was true. Destin was—he must be—just on the other side of that door. Evan had to take this chance. He had to.

“Wait here,” he said to his crew. “I’ll call you in if it goes wrong.”

“But what if we’re too late?” Jorani cried. She was the newest addition to the crew, and the youngest.

“Make sure you’re not,” Evan said. He crossed to the door, nudged Breaker to the side with his foot, and opened the door. As soon as it opened wide enough, the dog shot past him and into the back room.

And, there, in a chair by the fire, was Destin Karn, fending off Breaker the demon dog, who was doing his best to lick him in the face. When Destin looked up at Evan, Breaker finally made contact and then, apparently satisfied, curled up in Destin’s lap.

Evan turned, nodded reassurance to his crew, then stepped across the threshold, pulling the door shut behind him. “I brought your dog back,” he said, leaning against the door.

“So I see,” Destin said, stroking Breaker’s head. His face was concealed, then revealed by the light from the flickering flames. He was dressed entirely in black—the colors of the Ardenine King’s Guard. Evan wondered if that was intentional—meant to maintain a distance between them. “It seems that you have acquired the ability to raise the dead.”

“Some of the dead, some of the time,” Evan said. He paused. “Are you with the King’s Guard now?” He gestured toward the uniform.

Destin nodded. “I’m in a . . . particular division of the King’s Guard. Outside of the normal chain of command.”

“Does the fact you came in costume indicate that you’re here in an official capacity?”

Destin laughed. “If I were here in an official capacity, you would be in chains. You’ve become quite notorious, here in the wetlands. I’m proud of you, Pirate.” He pushed a chair out with his booted foot. “Would you like to sit down?”

Feeling a little foolish, Evan crossed the room and sat down in the chair nearest the hearth. Still country to this city boy. If Evan was deadly, Destin was always deadlier.

Evan had grown, but Destin had grown, too, so that the soldier still had a good three inches on him. He was thinner, too, though maybe the proper word was honed. Honed by whatever had happened since they’d been apart. Honed into a sleek and deadly weapon for the wetland king.

The silence between them grew until it was awkward. For two years Evan had dreamed of this meeting, and now he had nothing to say.

“I believe this is your meeting,” he said finally.

Destin lifted a decanter of amber liquid, poured for himself, and then extended it toward Evan. “Would you like any—?”

“No, thank you,” Evan said. He needed a clear head to pick his way through this minefield of a meeting. “I’m—I just had something.”

Destin’s smile was hard-edged, bitter, almost a grimace. “A wise move, Pirate. Never accept a drink from me. I am the midwife who delivers the king’s enemies into hell.” Destin swirled the liquid in his glass and drank it down, his throat jumping. The message seemed clear. I am not for you, and you are not for me.

“Am I one of the king’s enemies, Des?” Evan asked softly.

“Well, there is a heavy price on your head,” Destin said, studying his empty glass, as if deciding whether to refill it. “However, as an official of the king, I’m not allowed to collect.”

“Too bad,” Evan said. He lifted the hammer-and-tongs amulet from around his neck, wadded the chain in his hand, and extended it toward Destin. “Thank you for the loan of your amulet.”

“Keep it,” Destin said, waving it away. “I replaced it a long time ago.”

Evan slipped the chain over his head, pleased to feel the familiar weight of the flash against his skin. He fished a small velvet bag from inside his coat and slid it across the table, feeling like a suitor offering a series of unworthy gifts. “I saved your mother’s ring and locket for you.” He pulled a leather-wrapped bundle from his carry bag and set it next to the rest. “And . . . your father’s dagger. In case you wanted that, too.”

Surprise cleared the bitterness from Destin’s face. “You . . .” He stopped, swallowed hard, and brushed his long fingers across the leather, then met Evan’s gaze for the first time. “Thank you. It’s my mother’s dagger, actually,” he said, a bit of color staining his pale cheeks. “My father took it away from her the first time she tried to defend herself.” He paused, as if steeling himself to go on. “She’s alive, you know. My mother, I mean. If you can call it that.”

Evan sat forward, a spark of hope kindling in his middle. “Frances is alive?”

Destin nodded. “She lives with her family in Tamron.”

Memories flooded in. Frances asking Evan to stay on and be a friend to her son. I think you both have lessons to teach each other. Frances saying to Dustin, I’ve lost so much. I don’t want to lose you, too.

“Can I—? I would love to see her again.”

“No,” Destin said, with a bleak finality. “You wouldn’t. Leave well enough alone.” That seemed to be the theme of the entire conversation.