Page 332 of Psycho Gods

He pointed up to the sky and said, “The Ara constellation. It sits closest to Scorpius and belongs to the family of stars that includes Corvus.”

I inhaled sharply.

“Ara” was engraved in gold on the mittens he’d given me. Even in the middle of war, he’d been trying to tell me. My chest became toasty and warm.

The quiet king whispered reverently, “Ara sits so close to Scorpius that it, too, is directly opposite Orion.”

The men all made different noises of surprise, but Corvus stared at Orion with betrayal on his face. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. “I thought the engraver had made a mistake.”

All of us laughed at his incredulous expression.

Orion shook his head wistfully. “I didn’t want her to feel pressured or think that we only wanted her because of fate.”

Corvus made an annoyed noise but didn’t argue.

“But we are fated,” Orion whispered. “We’re all destined for each other.” He turned to the twins. “You two included.”

John made a warm noise of contentment next to me.

My heartbeat faster.

Scorpius shifted so he sat closer to me, and he pushed John away so he could put his arm over my shoulder.

John scoffed, “Hey, what do you think you’re—”

He stopped talking as Scorpius draped his other arm around him, and he pulled us both close against him.

“I always knew these two were mine,” Scorpius said, and everyone snorted.

“Bullshit,” Corvus laughed while John tried, but failed, to get away. It was wrong, but it made me feel better to see someone else struggle.

I laughed and settled into the crook of Scorpius’s arm as we continued to stargaze.

Luka played with my hair, and Corvus readjusted so Orion was sprawled against his chest.

The night was quiet and full of new beginnings.

Hope was a fragile, delicate thing.

It unfurled around us.

Chapter 66

Aran

GIFTS

Troth (noun): loyal or pledged faithfulness.

Weeks passed in a semidream state.

The six of us spent our days riding horses, talking, feasting on cheese boards, and pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist.

The strange euphoria of surviving the war was broken up only by moments of panic.

Every night, at least one of us woke up screaming in bed. On one night, early on in our stay at the estate, all six of us woke up shouting and kicking at one another, like we were in the middle of battle.

Little things would also set people off.