Stepping into his chambers, Ezra stopped cold at the sight of the Soldati Eye floating in the center of the room rather than nestled on the black-and-gold velvet pillow where it should have been. The all-knowing Eye flowed through Ezra, offered knowledge and visions of warning, though not on the scale of the prince’s prophecies.
When the former Soldati king passed his crown on to Khalon, the former king and his entire court left for another realm. After centuries of fighting demons, they had earned the right to live out the rest of their immortal lives in peace. This left the Soldati Eye to pick a new voice. And it had chosen Ezra.
Being the voice of the Eye of the Soldati brought with it great power, new dangers, and a heavy burden, but Ezra had accepted the role with pride. With an entire army of Soldati to choose from, many of whom were renowned warriors, the Eye had honored Ezra with its power. Of course, at the time, Ezra had been unaware of exactly what that would entail, or the effect it would have on his personal life—the price he paid for such power. Regardless, to let down the Eye would be to let down his realm. For the longest time, Ezra believed the Eye to be a tool, a magical relic bestowed upon the Soldati by the Goddess since their creation. Lately, he’d begun to question whether there was more to the Eye than he’d originally believed. The blasted thing seemed to have a mind of its own, prone to all manner of mischief.
The glowing gold orb hovered, as if waiting. Ezra arched an eyebrow. “Well? What’s all this about?”
The Eye shot forward, forcing Ezra to dive out of the way. Damnation. Where did it think it was going? He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over his own cloak. Darting into the hall, he spotted the Eye floating nearby as if waiting for him.
“I’m not in the mood for one of your games,” Ezra scolded. “I have a book waiting to be read.”
The orb took off once again, and Ezra gave chase. This was not how he wanted to spend his afternoon. Bloody overgrown marble! A kit foxling holding a tray of silverware bigger than him headed straight toward Ezra, forcing him to spin out of the way, where he bumped into something hard and bounced off. Strong hands caught his arms and steadied him.
“Easy there, cub.”
Ezra bristled at the name. He lifted his narrowed gaze to the mountain of an Orso blocking his path. Honestly, the man’s stature alone was enough to block out the sun. Why was he so blasted tall? And wide. And… smiling. Why did he smile at Ezra? Not that anything was wrong with smiling, but Ezra had done nothing to warrant such a reaction.
“I’m not a cub,” Ezra replied with a huff. “Why do you keep calling me that?” He tried to peer around General Segreti to no avail. Perhaps if he stood on his toes? Well, that certainly didn’t help. He couldn’t even see over Segreti’s shoulders. As a former general for the Orso, Segreti was huge and imposing. His chiseled jaw was covered in dark stubble, his mane of pitch-black hair reached just below his shoulders, and his thick black brows had several tiny nicks. In fact, his tanned skin was covered in faint nicks and scars, though the most prominent crossed his left eyebrow, disappeared beneath the brown leather patch, and continued to his cheek. It saddened Ezra. Had he been present when Segreti was injured, he might have healed him and saved his sight. While Ezra didn’t know the extent of the damage, he would hazard a guess that Segreti could no longer see from that eye. He was never without the eye patch.
“Because you remind me of a cub. All young, soft, and innocent. What are you doing?”
“I may be young,” Ezra said, lifting his chin proudly, “but I’m a Soldati warrior and hardly innocent.” Where the hell did it go? With a frustrated grunt, he planted his fists on his hips. “General Segreti, if you wouldn’t mind stepping aside. I fear I’ve lost my quarry.”
“There’s no need for such formalities. Segreti will do.” He turned to look behind him. “There’s nothing there.”
“Now there isn’t, but there was before you blocked my path.”
“What exactly did you lose?”
“The Eye.”
Segreti peered at him. “The Eye? As in the Soldati Eye? Are you saying you lost the Soldati Eye?”
Ezra let out an exasperated sigh. Perhaps if he exerted some physical effort, he might get Segreti to move. He prodded Segreti, but the Orso didn’t seem to even notice. Goodness, it was as if he were made of stone. “Of course not. I didn’t lose it. It’s merely hiding from me.”
“Hiding…” Segreti arched an eyebrow at him. “You speak of the Eye as if it has a mind of its own.”
Ezra blinked at him. “That’s because it does, General. Sort of.”
Segreti opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. He shook his head, as if attempting to understand. “Why is it hiding from you?”
“Because it’s bored.” Ezra threw up his arms. “I’ve no bloody notion as to why it does anything. Now, would you please step aside so I might find the damnable thing?” Who knew where it was by now? Thankfully, with the exception of a select few, the Eye didn’t allow anyone to touch it. Unpleasantness would come to anyone unworthy who attempted to lay hands on it.
“Easy there—”
“So help me, if you call me cub, I’ll—”
“Calm yourself,” Segreti said gently, placing his large hands on Ezra’s shoulders. It should have irritated Ezra. He did not like to be touched—though Segreti was incredibly tender for an Orso, despite his very large frame. “Come, I’ll help you find it.”
Ezra frowned. “You will?”
“Of course.” He winked at Ezra. “I can hardly leave such a charming Soldati in distress.”
Charming? Him? Ezra let out an indelicate snort. What nonsense. If Rayner were here, he’d have laughed himself to tears. Why Segreti would think such a thing was beyond Ezra. Regardless, if Segreti wished to be of assistance, Ezra would not deny him, even if he was perfectly capable of finding the Eye on his own.
Both Khalon and Rayner were quite fond of General Segreti. The Orso was renowned across the realms for his fearlessness and loyal heart. He’d served Queen Verity’s father before his mysterious death, then her bastard brother who’d inherited the crown and almost single-handedly destroyed the Orso realm. He’d certainly tarnished its great name.
With Pavoni’s death at the hands of the Soldati, Pavoni’s sister, Verity, had been chosen to be the next monarch. Despite Khalon having the right by law to claim the Orso realm as his own, he merely requested that Queen Verity allow Segreti to pass on his helm to the next worthy Orso. After a lifetime of war and battle, of serving the Orso as their general, Segreti had finally been granted his freedom.
“How do you know where it went?” Segreti asked, snapping Ezra out of his thoughts. Just as he’d said the words, a shrill squeak pierced the air, followed by the clatter of silverware and loud gekkering. “It would seem your quarry has been found.”
“Oh dear.” Ezra tsked. “It has an awful habit of scaring the poor foxlings.”
They hurried down the busy corridor—where Ezra offered an apology to the frazzled foxling who hissed, fur bristling as he bounced anxiously—before rushing out of the open doors to the garden. Ahead of him, the orb lay settled in a bird’s nest among the tree’s thick branches and lush leaves. What in the name of the Goddess was it doing up there?