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“Your breathing changed.”
The arm supporting me gives and I drop, swinging down to my feet. “And you noticed that?” I right my dress, only to feel something stick to my hands. It’s crusted and powdery in a way. It’s hard to see what it is in the dark, but I’m covered in it.
“I notice everything.” He lifts my chin with a curled finger. “Including the way you’re gawking at your hands. You don’t remember, do you?”
“Remember what exactly?” I stare up at him, my eyes bouncing between his, hoping something in his expression will tell me what the hell happened. “What happened to the never cat? The one Brenn pushed me into?”
“You killed it, or your other half did.”
I shake my head as if that’ll help me hear better. “Other half? What are you talking about?”
“Your creature. The one you share a soul with. You are a shifter, aren't you?” He lowers his head, trying to bring my eyes, the ones that have wandered off to vacantly stare at the tall grass, back to his.
“Shifter?No?I have magic. I’m a mage, I think. The king’s a druid and I have no idea what or who my biological mother is, so I suppose it’s possible. But I’ve never shifted before, or heard voices in my head. It would’ve happened before now. Right?”
He lets out a heavy exhale, trapping his lips between his teeth as he scans my face. “Not always.”
“You’re certain?” I try to wrap my mind around it, but I can’t. After everything I’ve been through, if I were a shifter, I’d know.
“Yes. Your hair turned white, you had talons,teeth. Your eyes were jet black, except for the gold rings, and this darkness webbed over your cheeks. That part I’ve seen before, but only once.” He darts his gaze away.
I’ve seen others have those eyes, but I thought it was normal, that everyone had them. Asmo does, except his go entirely black and look like obsidian glass. He claimed it was due to demonicblood. Could I have demonic blood too? If so, why would mine have gold?
I don’t get a chance to ask who or what sort of creature Loric saw once before. For all I know he could be talking about Asmo, though he hides his dark side well. His eyes come from his father’s side, the King of Hell Hold, a place in the neighboring realm to ours. Asmo despises him, says that when his eyes turn it only reminds him of the man who left him for dead. He’d rather forget who brought him into the world and I don’t blame him. With the king as my father, I wish I could forget too.
Except, Asmo’s parents seem worse somehow. Mine locked me in the dungeon, but he kept me close. His shoved him through the boundary around our realm, the one only dragons can penetrate. They didn’t care that he’d never be able to return or that they shoved him through on the wrong side of the river, the one where everything wants to kill you. It’s how he got his scars.
If it weren’t for the king, his biological grandfather, taking him in, Asmo might never have been around to raise me. Immortal as he may be, even immortals can die. They just never grow old, but it doesn’t stop monster teeth from shredding them to bits.
Mira holds the bar door open, allowing Loric to slip inside. But I’m rooted to the spot, incapable of averting my gaze as I make out what covers both of their skin. Cast in the light from inside the pub, every exposed inch is caked in blood. It’s like they bathed in it.
Forcing myself to look away, I step into the room. My boots click against the ancient stone floor as I squint to see through the hazy air. Smoke burns my nostrils, invading my lungs, and I cringe, fighting the urge to cough. The same crowd as before fills the tables, their wandering eyes sliding toward me.
“They’re looking at me again.” I step closer to Loric, as if his presence alone could fend them off.
“It won’t be for long. We’ll be downstairs soon and you’ll have your own room.” Loric’s hand gently nudges the small of my back, guiding me through the room. “However, I need a favor. If you won’t let me kill him, you need to convince your friend to let us stay.”
I try to focus on the floor and not the scarred and twisted faces. Only this time, instead of looking at me with hungry eyes that threaten to eat me up, their jaws drop as if they’ve seen a ghost. I suppose seeing someone covered in blood would have that effect. My dress is soaked with it.
“Not my friend… If I do it, will you tell me more about what happened in the woods?” I ask.
He nods in my periphery. “I’ll tell you whatever I can.”
His response is evasive, not entirely what I want, but it's something. It's a step away from the monosyllabic grunts, like he gave when I first woke up in his care. So, it’s progress.
“Fine. You have a deal.” Even as I agree, even as I lift my eyes to look over the bar, I regret it the moment I spot him. Gael.
Loric growls as we reach the long wooden counter and the people in front of us clear their barstools like roaches in the light. “All you, princess. Make me proud. I think we can all use a bath right about now.”
My stomach flutters at the idea. A bath does sound nice, but it wasn’t that portion of his statement that gave me butterflies. Shaking my head, I pull out one of the abandoned stools and take a seat, waiting for Gael to finish up with a customer on the far end of the bar.
Nonchalantly resting against the bartop, Gael flashes a perfect grin at the blonde-haired woman across from him. Quite the charmer he’s become since his great escape.
The woman gives him some coins along with an empty glass, and tugs him closer by fisting the front of his linen shirt. She whispers something in his ear, a secret meant only for them. I’mnot sure what she said, but his eyebrows perk up, and his eyes darken as he holds her gaze.
Then, as if drawn by some unseen force, those amber orbs shift to mine. His auburn hair is a tousled, rebellious mess as it hangs just above his eyebrows. Yet, after everything, he still looks at me as if we're the only two people in the room, making the rest of the world fade into insignificance.
I hate it.
