<b>Chapter </b>126
<b>Envy </b>
Night in the Underworld isn’t dark so much as thoughtful. The pce dimmed itself to a hush; our living room woremplight like a shawl. I’d tucked Elliot in an hour ago, Macey starfished beside him, Layah at their feet and still my shoulders sat wrong, like I was wearing a worry that didn’t fit.
“We need to pick when,” I said, because dancing around it made the room feel smaller. “If they answer our terms, we decide the when.”
Levi’s palm hovered over the ward–thread that ran through the lintel, listening. “The cord is still at the decoy,” he murmured. “Patience.”
Noah sat to my right, calm heat at my nk. Hawk pressed forward in him, watching, not crowding. “Daylight was part of the terms,” he said. “No meeting until the sun’s up topside, no matter how politely they knock.”
“Lake Narra sandbar,” Haiden reminded from the kitchen doorway, carrying tea like a waiter who definitely stole a biscuit on the way. “We’ll protect ourselves with the grounds. Aleisha will be there on watch as well. We’ll Have Tommy, Mum, Dad here with the kids and pack.”
Xavier didn’t say anything at first. He came behind me and set his hands on my shoulders, thumbs finding the knot that had been pretending to be part of my spine since dinner. He didn’t push, didn’t knead, just held, steady as a doorframe. The knot relented a
fraction.
“They might be his family,” I said, the word snagging. “Or close enough to wear the word. He heard it. He felt it.” The memory of Elliot’s face when he said kin and didn’t flinch made my chest burn in a way love does when it’s sharper than you think you can stand.
Levi nced over, reading the tightness I didn’t hide. “We control pace,” he said. “First light tomorrow is too soon. We need time toce the sandbar and brief the leads. We can offer second dawn, three bells after sunrise. If they repeat that back through the decoy, we proceed. If they don’t, we don’t.”
“Three bells<b>,</b><b><i>” </i></b>Noah echoed, approval a low rumble. “Gives us a night and a morning to set
<b>13.35 </b>Wed<b>, </b>Sep
every seam.”
Haiden passed me a mug, then crouched at my knees and kissed the back of my hand like an oath. “We’ll make it ugly for anyone who tries to be clever. Dummy approach paths.
Phantom patrols. Two dozen ces to step wrong before they even see the water.<b>” </b>
Xavier’s thumbs drew slow circles at the base of my neck, thoughtful as a craftsman. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the crown of my head. “You don’t have to pretend you’re not scared,” he said against my hair. “It doesn’t make you less of a wall.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was rationing. “He asked me if he had to be a Soul Eater all the time,” I said. “He wrote his rule like he was building a door he could carry.
It’s… a lot for small shoulders.”
Noah turned, slid his palm over the curve of my belly. He wasn’t asking for kicks, he was listening, the way he does, to the quiet of a life that already knows our voices. “We’ll carry the sharp parts,” he said simply. “He carries the words, but this is still his journey. One that was written long before we had any say in it.”
Levi stood and came to sit at my other side, taking my wrist gentle as a sparrow. He traced three light sigils over the skin, no spell, just shape, meant to convince the body to unclench. It worked. “I’ll speak three bells after sunrise into the decoy,” he said. “Tied to the sandbar and to the truth–knot. If they bring anything with teeth, threads, riders, mours, the knot bites and the vestibule shutters.”
Haiden slid to the floor and rested his cheek against my knee, shameless as a cat, then leaned forward and kissed the swell of my belly. “For luck,” he said. “And because Talen
will riot if I don’t.”
“Seconded,” Xavier murmured, dipping to press his mouth there too, a touch that felt like a promise to both of us. Noah followed, one more kiss, warm and brief, his breath steadying something I hadn’t named. Levi,st, only set his palm there, fingers spread, reverent. Flint moved like a dark tide in him, and I felt the echo of “mine–to–guard” without a single word spoken.
“Alright,” I said, because the room had finally stopped trying to lean me forward. “Second dawn. Three bells. <b>If </b>they repeat it, Levi opens the vestibule. If they don’t, we stay silent and keep cutting threads.”
11142
<b>Xavier </b>squeezed my shoulders once and let his hands fall, but stayed close. “I’ll ping
<b>13:35 </b>Wed, <b>Sep </b>
9270
Tommy and Dad now. We keep the pack’s message simple: increased wards, children safe, leadership meeting at first light. No rumors<b>, </b>no names.<b>” </b>
<b>“</b>Noah<b>,</b><b>” </b>Levi said, already half in the weave, “tell Aleisha to sleep with her boots by the
door.”
“She always does,” Noah said, and Hawk sent the mental equivalent of a grin.
Haiden stood and tugged me, gentle, until I was on my feet. “Walk?” he offered. “Just the
corridor. Let the stone take some of it.”
We looped the hall once, the kingdom’s heartbeat steady under our steps, the wards purring as we passed. When we came back, Xavier had finished with the pings; Levi’s eyes were unfocused in that way that means he’s speaking pattern; Noah was waiting with a nket like he knew I’d finally be cold.
Levi blinked back to us. “It’s ced,” he said. “The decoy carries the hour, the terms, and Elliot’s rule. If they repeat it clean, we’ll hear it.”
“And the cord?” I asked, because I had to.
“Listening,” he said. “And learning the word when the right way.”
I nodded, and the nod didn’t wobble. Xavier drew me down to the couch and settled behind me so my back could remember what being held feels like. Noah tucked the nket over my legs. Haiden draped himself like an unruly scarf across our knees. Levi sat with one ankle over a knee and pretended he wasn’t watching me breathe. Our beasts settled at the thresholds: Maddox a mountain, Talen a shadow, Hawk a heat, Flint a tide.
“Tomorrow,<b><i>” </i></b>Noah said softly.
“Second dawn<b>,</b><b>” </b>Levi added.
“Three bells<b>,</b><b>” </b>Haiden supplied.
“And cake after<b>,</b><b>” </b>Xavier finished, because he knows exactly when to make meugh.
I put both hands <b>over </b>the ce our child answered with a small, sure tap, and let the room’s quiet finally do what it had been trying to do for hours: ease me.
“Okay,<b>” </b><b>I </b><b>said </b>into <b>the </bmplight. “Then we sleep.”