Wings of Fire (Godstone Saga 4)

The dragon stiffened, yellow eyes going wide. The creature seemed to dissolve in a blink to his human form and collapse onto the concrete. He didn’t move, didn’t make a fucking sound. One heartbeat he was alive, and in the next he was dead.

Extending his left hand, he called all the individual links to him. They flew up, rejoining in a neat line, before rushing toward him, circling like a purple and black snake.

Nyx cackled, and a chill skittered down Caelan’s spine. Nice work, the God of Time praised. There was the feeling of a hand resting on his shoulder and squeezing. Hand over the chain and this alone should more than make up for the time you lost.

I want to strike a bargain, Caelan quickly thought. Nyx didn’t reply, but he could feel the god’s curiosity piqued. I give you half the time as an offering.

And the other half? Nyx inquired, though there was a feeling of pleasure at just the idea of getting half the dead dragon’s time.

I want to save it. It’s mine to do with what I want.

You don’t want to replace your lost time?

No. Not like this. Caelan mentally cringed at the idea. The thought of using time he’d stolen from another to extend his lifespan made him sick. He wanted his time back, but he wasn’t going to get it through stealing.

Oh, my sweet idiot, Nyx purred. He clapped his hands together and rubbed them. You intrigue me so. I can’t wait to see what you do with this time. A second later, he could feel the god’s slender arms wrapping around him and hugging him, his cheek pressed to the top of his head.

Even now, hours later, Nyx was celebrating, which was irritating both Kaes and Tula. He could barely sense the God of Storms and the Goddess of Life, as if they’d gone off to sulk somewhere out of his mental reach.

The stockpile of time hung heavily on his body like invisible iron chains. At first the weight was staggering, but as the hours ticked by, he grew more accustomed to its presence so that he barely noticed it. He didn’t have the first clue as to what he planned to do with the spare time, but it seemed like the kind of thing that would be handy, particularly when it came to facing Safa and dealing with the Goddess of the Hunt.

Footsteps on the hallway floor had Adrian jerking awake, his eyes instantly wide and alert. Caelan managed a half smile. He couldn’t imagine how the man was able to do that. Whenever Caelan slept, it took him at least several minutes to get his brain to function. All his friends teased him that he was little more than a shambling zombie the first hour of the morning.

A soft knock had Adrian opening the door, one hand on the handle of his dagger, but he relaxed at Eno’s tired smirk. “Want to come down? The last of the officials have left, and Rayne is cooking breakfast.”

“His sausage sandwiches?” Caelan asked, immediately perking up.

Eno nodded and disappeared from the opening, his footsteps echoing along the hall.

“Something special about these sandwiches?” Adrian inquired as Caelan walked past him.

Caelan shrugged. There really wasn’t anything special or unique about them, other than the fact that Rayne made them. They had been a fixture for the mornings when the day was going to be particularly rough. Or the days when Caelan couldn’t face getting out of bed. Rayne would be standing there, urging him up and holding one of his sausage sandwiches on a plate as if they were a tiny beacon of hope that he could get through this.

“They’re just a good way to start a bad day,” he murmured.

Drayce had always loved them and begged Rayne to make them all the time. The last time he had, they’d been camping in the Ordas.

When they reached the small kitchen, it was to find Rayne standing behind the stove, a frilly apron covering his clothes. The man was already in a suit and his hair perfectly styled. At some point between all the questions and guests, he’d taken the time to pull himself together. Eno was dressed in cargo pants and a long-sleeved black shirt, appearing as if he were prepared to take down some foreign government. Only Mio was still wrapped in her robe, looking pale and disheveled. She was seated at the tiny kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea.

Adrian slid into the chair closest to her and placed a hand lightly over her own. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, but it was stiff and jerky. “Yes. Just…tired.”

“I’m sorry about the loss of your neighbor and friend,” Caelan murmured, sitting on the other side of her.

“Thank you. We’ve always understood the risks, but it’s still not easy to lose a friend.”