Kieran stumbled to the side. “Fucking gods, every time.” Wintry-blue eyes flashed. “Tell me he doesn’t do that on purpose.”
Since telling him that would be a lie, I said nothing as Reaver extended his long neck and roared. Silvery fire streamed forward, momentarily blinding as the flames cut through the mist and rolled over the Craven. The fire took them out at once, dozens gone in a matter of seconds, leaving nothing but ash and fading mist behind.
“Nice of him to finally join us,” Emil remarked, earning a smirk from Kieran and a narrow-eyed glare from Reaver as his horned head snapped in Emil’s direction. The Atlantian held up his hands. “I meant I’m happy to see you.”
“You think he found anything?” Casteel asked as he brushed a wayward strand of hair back from his face.
“I hope so,” I said, sheathing the dagger as Casteel took his sword back. Reaver had taken to the air the day before, scouting for any sign of the ruins Eloana had sent word of. “We’re already at three days. That means at least three more to get out of here. Another day to reach Padonia.”
“We’ll be fine,” Casteel assured me, hooking the two clasps that had come undone on my cloak. “We’ll get out of here and to the Bone Temple in time.”
I nodded, but it would take close to three days to reach the Bone Temple. I nibbled on my lower lip as a flare of dull pain shot through my jaw. We needed to find Malec and get back to Padonia with some time to rest. To prepare.
“Don’t worry.” Kieran stepped in close to us, his gaze catching mine as he picked up my braid, tossing it over my shoulder. “I know that’s easier said than done,” he continued as a shimmery light swept across Reaver’s body. “But we’re good. We got this.”
Casteel pressed a kiss to my temple as he looked to where a mortal stood where the draken had crouched seconds ago. “Naked Reaver time,” he murmured.
Everyone was pretty much used to that. While most of us studiously avoided looking below the face, Sage practically sat front row and made no qualms about sizing him up, no matter what form she was in.
“About a day’s ride north,” Reaver announced as Naill tossed him his clothing. “There are some ruins of what appeared to be a small town.”
It took a little less than a day for us to reach the ruins. How Reaver had seen them from the sky was beyond me. Nothing but stone foundations and crumbling, half-standing walls were left.
“This has to be it, right?” Vonetta asked as Casteel gripped my waist, helping me down from Setti. His act was sweet, considering I no longer needed the assistance.
“It has to be.” I turned to Reaver. “You saw nothing else?”
“I traveled to the shores,” he answered, hopping up onto a wall and crouching. “There was nothing but this. The ruins are large. The forest thickens from here, but this was no small village.”
“Thickens more than this?” Emil gestured at the tightly clustered trees.
Reaver nodded as a flurry of snow swirled across the decaying structures.
Kieran unhooked the satchel, bringing it over to me as Delano, now in his wolven form, and the others spread out through the ruins, keeping watch. “You think this is a good spot?”
“Honest?” I placed the satchel on a wall, opening it. “I hope so.”
He chuckled as Perry came closer, and Malik slowly dismounted—under Naill’s constant watch. “I wonder what used to be here.”
“No idea.” Casteel’s brows furrowed as he scanned the ruins. “It could have fallen while he slept and became lost to time.”
A shiver danced over my skin as I pulled out the parchment and a slender piece of charcoal. To think that a town full of people—possibly hundreds if not more—could have been wiped completely from history was unsettling.
Casteel picked up a small rock, placing it on the parchment to hold it in place. “Thanks,” I murmured, writing Malec’s name when something occurred to me. “What was Malec’s last name?”
“O’Meer,” Casteel answered.
I eyed Reaver. “That can’t be his real last name, is it?”
Reaver slowly turned his head toward me. A long moment passed. “No, it is not.”
“Does he even have a last name?”
“Nyktos did not, but…” The wind lifted the pale strands of his hair. “If he were to be recognized by a surname, it would be Mierel.”
“Mierel,” I repeated, the press of charcoal against parchment leaving a smudge. “Is that the Consort’s last name?”
A pause. “It once was.”
Casteel’s gaze met mine, and then I wrote it out. Malec Mierel. The eather hummed in my chest.
“What next?” Casteel asked, his chest brushing my arm.
I reached into the pouch at my hip, bypassing the toy horse I really needed to return to Casteel. I pulled out the diamond ring, placing it on the name. “I just need my blood now.”