Chapter 6There was no more merrymaking or song. Those who had been eating and drinking before the brides bewitched them stared at hunks of bread and full glasses of ale with disdain.
Except Dante, who downed the rest of his homebrew in a gulp.
“That’s impossible,” Khel said, after Zen had finished confessing. “We invited you on this journey. The chances—”
“Make perfect sense if Gaian was luring Zen here, and if he always knew where his book was.” Morty held the black-leather tome Zen had retrieved from beside the tree. “The chances are plenty good if he set this in motion.”
“And you knew?” Dante bellowed, throwing his empty bottle into the grass at Zen’s feet. It didn’t break, but it might as well have for how broken Zen felt in its wake.
He didn’t only remember the flashes he’d seen
