Blood of Two Crowns (Hallowed Fates #2)

Chapter 30

Chapter

Thirty

MALEKAI

“ I have a favor to ask you.” The deep rumble of Nakoa’s voice returned me to the present moment, where I was currently sitting, reading up on the hell realms of Vassileo. All Akash- forsaken eleven of them. Normally, I erred on the side of optimism, but I couldn’t help but feel this overwhelming sense of doom.

Eleven.

Fucking.

Realms.

Where would we even begin?

I was relieved for the distraction. Whatever the favor required, it would distract me from our dwindling likelihood of ever finding Mareina. Since Azrael had taken her, I’d been researching his realms relentlessly, oscillating in and out of anger and despair. Wretched, violent sobbing included.

I lifted my gaze from the ancient, yellowed tome of flaking parchment pages to Nakoa. He was dressed in the same well-worn trousers and shirt I’d first met him in, with no crown in sight. I nearly tsked aloud. This wouldn’t do at all.

“Where is your crown?”

Nakoa’s brows lowered. “In a box, in my closet.”

My frown was genuine. Taking a deep breath, I silently deliberated where to begin and how to put it lightly. I hadn’t tiptoed around my words. E ver . But perhaps because he and I shared the same excruciating absence of our mate, it inspired my elusive compassion.

“I understand you spent much of your life in hiding, yes?”

I took Nakoa’s silence as affirmation.

“And Mareina mentioned you come from… humble beginnings?”

More silence, more brow furrowing.

“Look, I appreciate your desire to remain humble and modest, but your people want a king. They want your leadership. They long for the future you’ve promised them. But seeing you dressed like…”

I hesitated, not wanting to offend the male with whom I had such a tenuous truce. A corner of Nakoa’s mouth quirked in an almost smile. “A peasant?”

I chuckled with a sigh of relief. “Yes. A peasant.”

Nakoa huffed something that sounded almost like a laugh, further dissipating the tension in the room. “Yes… I suppose you’re right. I just…”

I quirked a brow. “Imposter syndrome?”

Something vulnerable softened his gaze and his voice grew raspier. “In part, yes. That, and it just feels wrong to wear it without her here.”

Nakoa’s throat worked roughly, and my heart clenched to the point of pain. Before I could think better of it, I rose from the table and rounded it. I wrapped my arms around his giant body, nearly as giant as mine, and he went rigid against me.

“Don’t fight it, fucker. You need this just as bad as I do.”

I heard Nakoa gulp, trying to swallow back his emotion. Gradually, his body relaxed. I’d never been good at giving emotional support, but again, because it involved Mareina, I felt his pain as if it were my own.

Nakoa’s arms wrapped around my back.

While this whole scenario felt strange—bizarre even—it also felt comfortable. He drew in a shaky breath against my chest, and it inspired a rogue droplet to slip down my cheek and into the beard I’d recently grown. Not for aesthetics, mind you. Every second not spent studying Vassileo further diminished our likelihood of never finding Mareina if we couldn’t find Azrael. Which also hinged upon him being agreeable?—

“What in the 69 fucks is this?”

Nakoa and I separated from one another like we’d both been burned. With much-synchronized throat-clearing and tear-hiding/wiping.

At the turning of Nakoa’s back, I faced Lokus, Rumiel, Pomona, and Val. All four of them gaped.

“What? Males can’t hug?”

Lokus’ brows leapt further. “Do you wanna know the last time that male gave me a hug?”

I smirked, already knowing where this was going. “Let me guess. Was it the last time you weren’t a dickhead?”

Pomona and Val snorted their laughter, and I even heard Nakoa chuckle behind me as he finally dried his eyes enough to face them.

Lokus narrowed his eyes, lips twitching. “You make a fair point, drakonati.”