Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 110079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110079 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 550(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Adrian’s heart ached for Tyche. His kind weren’t numerous, and he was forced to watch them get picked off one after another. “Ty, I’m sorry—”
“Looks like the others are heading back now. We should get Haru and return to the Omari clan. They’re going to want to know what happened.”
Adrian grunted, dropping his condolences. There was little point. The faster they got this mess with the Order taken care of, the sooner Tyche and all the peoples of Thia would be safe.
NINE
TYCHE
Tyche blinked, and the stars in the velvety night sky blurred, but that was okay. He lifted the glazed ceramic jar to his lips and took another drink of the sweet plum wine. The dragons might not know shit about coffee, but they made a hell of a fantastic wine. A pleasant warmth was spreading down his throat and across his chest, helping him to forget about his ass, which had grown cold and numb from sitting on the ground.
After the fight with Damardor or New Rosanthe or whatever they were calling themselves now, the various leaders had closed themselves off from everyone else to talk about how to proceed with the war that was growing faster than anyone might have expected. Adrian had taken Haru somewhere quiet so he could rest.
That had left Tyche with nothing to occupy himself with. He didn’t know anything about global politics, and he didn’t want to know. No good would come of him meddling in the affairs of humans. In his opinion, it was sketchy for the God of Hope to be doubling as the king of Erya, but he knew that the country had lost its queen not long before Caelan had attained his new identity. He probably hadn’t wanted his people to go through mourning two rulers so quickly.
But in the end, it was none of his business. The only thing that mattered to him was getting Yesuntei’s powers out of Haru and delivered to Brightspire. That was something that would need to be discussed with Nori and the others, but first, they had to figure out their war.
Thankfully, the Omari dragons were a friendly bunch. They seemed content to feed him and show him around their home, explaining their way of life. It was not something he’d ever expected to be allowed to do. After Tula, Kaes, and Nyx started their war with the dragons thousands of years ago, Tyche had felt sure he’d never be able to talk to a dragon, let alone wander their sacred homes.
It was a peaceful life. The dragons kept to themselves, content to spend their long lifetimes mastering different art forms, meditating, and cooking delicious food. Tyche could see himself living in a hut near the Omari clan where he could maintain a handful of coffee plants. It would be nice to live near a group of people with long lifespans. He avoided humans because their lives were so short. Well, that and he didn’t age, and humans noticed that after a decade or two.
As night fell, the group remained locked away, so Tyche ate a pleasant dinner with Shou and Mika. Afterward, he snagged a bottle of wine and moseyed from the clan. He located a secluded spot in the woods that gave him a pleasant view of the stars as they popped out to sparkle in the sky.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Shey’s stern voice jolted Tyche from his wine-dulled thoughts. He jerked upright, clutching the nearly full jar of wine. He lifted his head, his eyes traveling up Shey’s strong legs, flat stomach, wide muscular chest to land on his grumpy expression. Even in the dim light, he could see the heavy scar cutting along Shey’s face, making his frown even more frightening. This man would have made an excellent God of War. Everything about him was fierce and powerful.
Except for when he smiled, which he did surprisingly often. Then his blue eyes warmed, the scar disappeared, and that weird flutter in the pit of Tyche’s stomach returned. What the hell was that about?
“I was about to send out a search party for you.” Shey dropped to sit next to Tyche. He leaned on the tree behind Tyche and plucked the jar out of his hands. A sound of protest broke from Tyche’s throat, but he’d yet to pull together words. Maybe he was feeling a bit buzzed from the wine.
His lips crooked into something like a grin. “You were going to send out a bunch of dragons to search for a god?”
Shey snorted and held up the jar, giving it a shake so that the wine sloshed about.
“Hey! Don’t spill it!” Tyche grabbed the jar and clutched it to his chest.
“You’re drunk. I would never have guessed that a god could get drunk.”
“Pfft. We can get lots of things, for your information. But no, I’m not drunk. Just a little bit…fuzzy.”