Dean understood Caeus immediately.
Not the enigma part, nor the possibility that something old enough to have forgotten whether Caeus was even its real name had been sleeping beneath Alamina for centuries while generations of infected creatures built an entire existence around the forest above him.
The sleeping part.
That made perfect sense.
"He gets three questions because he wants to go back to sleep," Dean repeated from beneath the blanket, his voice muffled against the pillow. "Reasonable. I respect him."
Arion stood near the foot of their bed, removing his watch after returning from the northern expedition less than an hour earlier. He had already showered, washing away the damp earth and forest from his skin, and changed into loose brown trousers and an ivory shirt that remained unbuttoned at the throat.
"He ignored Dominic and several generations of infected elders."
"Because they were bothering him."
"He reached for our son."
