“You told me to wait for you.”

“And you did.”

“Well, I waited as long as I could. I wasn’t sure you were alive yet.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “You called me because you need me. You are in trouble?”

I shifted my legs and glanced at his wings, the tips of which were softly bent where they met the roof behind him. “Umm, yes. Maybe. I’m—my Moonchild power is changing.”

“You are getting stronger,” he agreed. “I could tell that from your call. And your Heka smells rich.”

I made a face. Maybe he was smelling the blackberry bar vomit. “Anyway, I’ve been able to do crazy things with it. Slow time, make a weird silver fog trap out of my halo—”

“And pull your guardian through the veil. You are powerful,” he agreed. His lips quirked up. “It is exciting.”

“Anyway,” I said, “I’m worried about my power getting stronger, but I’m mostly worried because I saw a projection of my mother.”

His dark brows lifted. “And that is strange because . . . ?”

Oh. Right. Priya died before I found out my parents were guilty of all the ritual killings, handed them over to the White Ice Demon, and let her whisk them away to the Æthyr as her war prize. It took me several minutes to tell the story, but Priya listened intently, crouching before me with his silver arms wrapped around his legs, his chin resting on his knees. He was barefoot, I noticed. And his toenails, though not as long as the talon-like nails on his fingers, were glossy black.

“I will admit, I never liked your family,” he said when I was done.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Did you know they were guilty?”

He shook his head rapidly. “Of course not. If I thought you were in danger, I would have warned you. But I did not understand the workings of this world, and it was not my place to give opinions about your personal life.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with it now,” I noted.

He shrugged, black eyes gleaming. “I am different now. But let us return to your problem. You thought the White Demon would kill your mother and father in the Æthyr.”

“My parents tricked her. Used her. I just assumed she would take their lives.”

“But now you are worried that she didn’t.”

“I heard my mother whispering to me. I saw her—it was like a projection, you know, how you used to appear to me. I’m worried. I want to use the Moonchild power. But if she’s alive, could she find a link through my Heka signature?”

Priya’s face drew up as he thought about this. “It is unlikely, but there is only one way to find out. I will hunt her in the Æthyr.”

A heavy relief sank through my bones. “Would you, please?”

“I am yours to command.”

“Don’t say that. I don’t want to command you. I’m asking a favor.”

“I was made to serve you. When I was reborn into this body, the first thing I remembered was your face.” The way he said this made me equal parts flattered and uncomfortable. And he was staring at me intently, though it could be because his gigantic black owl eyes make every glance intense. It was hard to tell.

I decided to play it safe and offered a logical reason. “We were linked for so long.” From the time I was sixteen until a few months ago, to be exact. Nine years. Yet this was the longest, most personal conversation we’d ever had.

He began to respond, but as soon as his mouth opened, his body seemed to crackle with unseen energy. We both stared at each other for a long moment. “My strength is fading. The Æthyr seems to be pulling me back. I feel ungrounded.”

It made sense. Æthyric demons couldn’t stick around on this plane for long without a host.

“I will hunt down news of your mother,” he said, and quickly jumped to his feet.

I followed. “Wait! What about our link? Can you reestablish it?” I could call him using this ritual again, I supposed, but it was much easier—and less vomit-causing—to be able to use the homing sigil on my arm.

Strong, indefinable emotion slackened his facial features. Then he said in a low voice, “It would be my greatest honor.” He held out his hand, requesting mine. “We can do this directly now,” he said, noticing my hesitation. A wave of crackling energy made his neck muscles strain.

We didn’t have much time. I nodded my head quickly and gave him my hand.

Foreign and lush, Æthyric words tumbled from his lips in a low chant as he held his palm over mine. This certainly was a lot more direct than the gigantic Heka burst I had to send through the planes to link us the first time around. After a few moments, a nebulous cloud of sooty black light floated out between our palms—a light that matched his halo. I felt a sharp pinch. He made a noise, then things felt . . . different between us. I felt the link.

I pulled my hand away, half expecting it to be marked somehow. But it wasn’t mine that was marked, it was his: my personal sigil, black as ink, was etched into his palm. A whisper-thin spider web line floated from my palm and his.

That was new, too.

I ran my other hand between, and it went through the line as if it were a laser beam. Not solid. Just like the line that had connected me to Jupe’s tattoo when he was in trouble.

Priya grabbed my hand and peered down at it. “There is another link here,” he said, startled. “You have another servant?” He said it like I was cheating on him.