The Rise of Fortune and Fury (Chronicles of the Stone Veil 5)

It’s overcast today and the sidewalk is wet from a previous rain, but our umbrellas remain folded. It’s crisp outside and I feel energized, despite the slow pace at which we traverse.

“We should do this more often even with impending doom over our head?” I tease, giving him a bump with my shoulder.

“Even with impending doom,” he agrees in a deep rumble before stopping in the middle of the sidewalk and turning to face me, causing our arms to break apart. “You know… we never had to do this in our past times together.”

“Face the end of the world?” I tease.

He laughs and nods. “We led normal, fairly boring lives. No worlds to save. No monsters to fight. I really, really miss that.”

“I don’t remember anything other than the memories you showed me, but I can tell you that I miss it, too. I can’t wait for this to be behind us.”

Carrick’s expression turns somber, and I know what he’s thinking. There might not be an “us” when this is over.

I put my hands to his cheeks. “I’ll come back to you. And in the next life, we’ll make sure it’s the most boring life ever.”

His responding laugh is deep and rich, and it causes my soul to actually sigh that I can cause that in the face of certain death that will come my way. Eyes still twinkling, he says, “If you can spare an hour away from your sister, how about we do this every day until the ritual takes place? Just get away for an hour, all to ourselves.”

“Deal,” I reply with a firm nod.

Carrick leans in and kisses me softly. It lingers enough to tell me he’s feeling the clock ticking on our time left together. It feels good enough that it dulls the pain I’m already feeling that we’ll be lost to each other again.

When Carrick’s mouth leaves mine, we once again start for the Prestige, hand in hand. As we enter the lobby, I’m the first to see Boral sitting there waiting for us. By the look on his face, I’m not sure I want to know why he’s visiting.

“What are you doing down here?” I ask as he rises from one of the lobby chairs. He normally just calls up and is given access to the elevator.

Boral rubs his hand over his bald head, his expression troubled. “I had called ahead of time as I need to talk to everyone. They told me you were out so I just decided to wait here until you got back.”

He doesn’t need to say it, but the message is clear. Boral is not welcomed by his son, Carrick and Maddox barely tolerate him, and I’m the only one who shows him any level of kindness.

No wonder he waited down here for us.

Carrick nods and leads us to the private elevator. We ride up in silence and as the elevator doors open, Boral suggests, “Probably best we meet down in the library. We’ll have planning to do.”

This means this is serious business. Otherwise, we’d just congregate in the kitchen. The fact we have planning to do means he has information that will require action.

I glance at Carrick. “I’ll go get Zora from her room and meet you down there.”

“I’ll find Zaid and Maddox,” Carrick replies, and we head off in opposite directions. Boral sets off for Carrick’s office, which will take him down into the library.

Zora’s in my old room, which is on the opposite end of the condo from Carrick’s office. I head down the hallway, my head pre-occupied with Boral’s news. There’s no doubt about it, Boral has something on Kymaris—possibly the stone. He had been our best lead by planting himself back in the circle of his friend Kaesar, who is one of the twelve original Fallen. But Kymaris, Kaesar, and the others have disappeared, gone into safe hiding until the day of the ritual, and despite Boral reaching out to Kaesar, he’s getting no response.

In my opinion, Kaesar probably suspects Boral is a spy and he’s shut that down, which means it will be interesting to see where Boral got his information today.

I turn into the small alcove that leads into the bedroom suite, my brain swirling with pre-occupation.

It’s why I jump backward in shock as Zora’s bedroom door opens and Maddox walks out. His head is bowed, watching his hands as they tuck his t-shirt back into his jeans. His blond hair, which is normally pulled back in a ponytail at the top of his head, has several locks that have become loose.

His head lifts and, to my further shock, the demi-god’s cheeks turn a bit red with embarrassment before he levels me with a sly smirk. Pulling the door shut behind him, he says, “No recriminations. Your sister is a grown woman.”