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Gods be damned. Those two were both a mess.
I opened my mouth to ask another question when we turned a corner, emerging into a dusty clearing ending in a giant, red stone wall — or at least what was left of it.
Letting out a slow breath, I dropped Mirrim's arm.
An airship-sized chunk had been torn out of the towering reddish hued barrier, and dozens of men and women worked in teams to clear the debris strewn across the area. Others carted in red stones to repair the wall.
This was a large portion of the inhabitants? There couldn't be more than 200 people! And from what I'd seen, the village was at least as big as the shopping district or maybe even Ellesmere in Gleyma. There should be far more people …
Mirrim wasn't exaggerating at all when she said there weren't many people left.
Jaiel walked to one particularly large stone and bent down, running a finger along an edge.
"Interesting," he lifted his finger for my inspection. "A ghoul-type?"
My stomach lurched, but I nodded. A revolting black ooze interspersed with shiny green flecks dripped from his finger in gloopy chunks. I'd never heard of a ghoul that big, but gods — that black ooze sure looked like it came from one.
Mirrim's lips twitched with disgust. "I know they don't spread their corruption through physical contact, but it doesn't mean you should touch the stuff, Jaiel!"
Jaiel's face remained impassive, though, as he pulled a deep blue silk handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the goo away.
"What were the mountain wraiths before they were twisted?" I asked, looking up at the massive section missing from the wall. "That's FAR too large to be any kind of human or Fae, and there aren't many creatures who can be twisted into wraiths."
Jaiel's expression tightened. "They're the last of the giants."
My jaw dropped.
Giants?
Holy hells! Giants were the stuff of legends — a gentle race of powerful protectors who knew the secrets of the land before the age of man, before even the Fae had been born. And those twisted mountain wraiths were all that was left?
Fuck! Whoever had been responsible for that tragedy deserved an eternity of painful torture.
Suddenly, a tall boy with bright red hair ran to us and tapped Mirrim's shoulder. She looked over her shoulder at him and held her hands out. He passed her a package with a wink, then ran off as fast as his feet would take him.
Mirrim's cheeks turned a bright pink, and she cleared her throat, forcing her gaze to meet mine.
"Boys," she said, attempting to shake her head nonchalantly. "Am I right?"
I held in my grin and nodded in agreement, stealing a glance at Jaiel, who smirked at me before returning to examine the wall debris.
"Was that someone you like?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.
Her green eyes went wide as she shook her head. "Derryl? No. He's cute, but I don't like him like that."
"Oh, really?" I said, looking over as the red-headed boy disappeared around a street corner. "Someone else then?"
"No. No one yet." She shrugged. "Uh — how about you?"
My memory slid to the way Jaiel had held me earlier while I cried and my cheeks heated.
"No." I cleared my throat. "I've been too busy with work."
"Yeah, I get that." She sighed, tapping the box distractedly. She may not know she was interested — but she definitely was. "There's never enough time, is there?"
I nodded.
"I don't know, Princess," Jaiel said, brows waggling as he approached. "You seemed to do just fine with Tye and —"
