A sharp, liquid crack followed.
The Naiad’s eyes deadened in an instant. My hands flew to my mouth in shock, a tremor shaking them as hard as my breath. Water dripped from my fingertips, trailing down my wrists. Pheolix dropped him in an almost business-like way, rolling the Naiad over with the toe of his boot and tilting his head to study him.
I’d never seen the dead siren before. His long hair claimed an earthy hue, brown and warm. He was clean-shaven. Perhaps a bit older than I was, though guessing a Naiad’s age was always difficult. Blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. His head hung oddly from his broken neck, a gruesome twist I could hardly stand to look at. I squeezed my eyes shut.
The sound of Pheolix unsheathing his knife forced them open again.
He began at the Naiad’s neck, cutting a lazy line down the back of the man’s shirt. “You all right?” he asked, not bothering to look at me.
My hands dropped from my mouth, though my breaths continued to stagger out, rib cage only beginning to calm. No, I wasn’t all right. Theia damn the stars, did I look bloody all right? But I swallowed the backlash away. “What are you doing?”
Pheolix abandoned the Naiad’s shirt halfway down, reaching through the slice to start again at the top of a second layer. “Looking for his brand, if he has one.”
“His brand?”
“Yes. His brand. The thing theyburn into cattle.”
“I know what a brand is,” I snapped, my shock and fear not yet quite worn away to entertain the sarcasm in his voice.
He paused to aim a sideways smile at me, blowing a lock of his rusty hair away from his mouth. The bulk of it lay drawn in the most disorganized bun I’d ever laid eyes on, and I couldn’t understand how it suited him so well. “Just making sure. You seem like the type of woman who doesn’t know beef comes from cows.”
I dropped my shoulders, a glare suddenly erupting through the confines of my struggle to recover, but my ice slid off Pheolix. He crooked his finger at me, inviting me to lean over his shoulder and peer at the skin visible under the Naiad’s shirt.
The symbol burned between the man’s shoulder blades was a single eye, lidless and wide. A chill laced down the vertebrae of my spine, lingering heavily between my own shoulders.
“Is it Aegir’s?” I asked.
Pheolix shook his head. “It’s Thaan’s.”
I glanced sharply at him. “You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never seen it on you.”
He raised a brow. “Are you asking to undress me so you can look for it now?”
I scoffed, throwing my gaze away from him.
Pheolix smirked. “You’ve only seen me shirtless in Naiad form, and my back scales travel all the way up my spine. But say the word and I'll take my shirt off now.”
My teeth clenched. “Ceba doesn’t have one.”
“Thaan has a vested interest in keeping Cebrinne’s body unmarked, though, doesn’t he?” He nodded at the dead man. “He’s been following you since our meeting with Thaan.”
I crossed my arms, shooing away the last of my rapid heartbeat. “And so have you, apparently. Thank you for the warning.”
“He locked eyes on the two of you before you even left the administrative wing. I wanted to see how long it would take for you to notice him.”
A scoff itched at the back of my throat.
Pheolix’s mouth twitched. “You didn’t even look behind you.”
“I’ve never had a reason to look over my shoulder in this palace,” I grumbled back at him. Neck bent awkwardly as he lay on the flagstones, the dead Naiad stared vacantly ahead. In addition to the blood running from his mouth, drops had begun seeping from the corners of his eyes. “Thaan’s never had a Naiad trail us before.”
“That you know of,” he snickered.
My eyes narrowed.
