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"The witches who kidnapped me forced me to do…obscenethings. Let's just say they had peculiar tastes."
"Ah." I drag the cloth over Asmo’s hand, wiping away the dirt from his skin. "So, this summoning thing, do you just make stuff with magic, or—"
"You have to know it exists. Think of it as calling an object to you, or teleporting to it. Only one creature in existence can make things out of nothing and that’s the queen," he explains, leaning back in the chair. The druidic tattoos on his arms and chest glow faintly in the light of the moons. It’s just barely visible from beneath his shirt, but those on his arms are impossible to miss. They’re delicate swirls and symbols that weren’t there earlier, as if they’re only able to be seen in the moonlight.
Tilting my head, I dip my rag in the bucket again. “So, you happened to know exactly where a bucket of warm, clean water and rags was sitting? Where did they come from?”
“Solaria.” He cringes. “My dad takes a bath everyday around this time. He’ll be rather pissed to find it gone, but it is what it is.”
I pause, looking up at Griffin. "You stole your father's bath water?"
“He hadn’t got in it yet… I don’t think.” He pops his lips. “Regardless, all fifty gallons of it is currently in the bathtub downstairs.”
I can't help but laugh. "Only you could get away with stealing the Lord of Solaria's bath water."
“He’ll be mad but if he knew what it was for, he would’ve offered it willingly. My dad has a hero complex and despises the fact I don’t.” He smiles coyly, an amber bottle of wine appearing in his hand. Griffin uses his teeth to dislodge the cork.
“Well, you were a hero today.”
“Hah! I watched. If watching is a heroic act, then I should get that embroidered on a pillowcase.”
I snort, shaking my head as I clean Asmo’s face. “Please do.”
“So, you never told me the story,” Griffin prods. I’ve only known him for a day, but I’m already beginning to get the sense he enjoys gossip and putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.
“What story?” I feign ignorance, knowing damn well he’s referring to the conversation we started at dinner. Dipping the rag, I wring it out, the slosh of dirty water filling the silence around us.
“Of how you two met.” He nods towards Asmo.
“I um… I was stranded here and stumbled upon this place. Though, it didn’t look anything like it does now. It was mostly destroyed, but it was a roof, and the wards kept the creatures in the woods away. The wall wasn’t spelled, so the creatures thatlived in the forest kept hunting me. I’d been here for a few weeks and Asmo just kind of showed up.”
“Oh, and I’m sure he took having pests in his castle well,” he rolls his eyes, his smile sincere yet tinged with the shadow of humor.
“About as well as he took to you mentioning how he ended up in the prison world.”
“He hurt you?” Griffin’s brow arches, his gaze drifting from the sleeping Asmo back to me.
“No. He demanded answers, and I was worried he would. In the elven islands, we’re taught that demons are pretty much savage brutes without a shred of conscience. He’d ripped my necklace off my neck.” I clutch the red crystal pendant, turning it over in my fingers. “I was powerless and panicked.”
Griffin gives me a knowing smirk. “What did you do?”
“I stabbed him with his own dagger and ran.”
Griffin tosses his head back, a laugh as divine as if it came from a god leaves his mouth. “Youdid not.”
“I did. A few hours later, he found me in the woods. I was going to steal my crystal back. To my surprise, he wanted to make a deal with me. I thought for sure the moment he caught me that I was dead. Of course, at the time, I didn’t know that the deal consisted of tethering our lives. I thought we just couldn’t kill each other without consequences. Even if I’d known, I might’ve still taken the deal he offered. I needed a place to live, and I was out of options.”
“Well, it’s been an eventful few days for you too then,” Griffin observes, as matter-of-factly as one commenting on the weather.
“I suppose.” Twisting my lips, I eye Griffin. He’s examining his nails as if he was the one digging up bodies. “Though, my last few days didn’t consist of doing obscene things with witch feet. That sounds sadistically worse.” Unable to stop the smile fromreaching my face, I watch him tense, then press his lips together and nod, as if he’s giving me deserved credit.
“Ya, I suppose you’re right.” He lifts the bottle of wine to his lips, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he takes a deep swig.
I turn my attention back to Asmo, dabbing gently at his face with the rag. “Will his shadow be okay? You’re fae, you should be able to sense that, right?”
He scoots the chair closer, grabbing Asmo’s hand and closing his eyes. “It’s there. Weak as fuck, but there.”
“It’ll come back then?” My voice barely hides the worry as I clean Asmo’s bare chest, the rag gliding over his numerous scars there.
