Fucking Hel, Tempest. Think about anything else.
Averting my eyes, I take a quick glance at the doorway and catch Reina and Khalid passionately intertwined.
Nope. That doesn’t help.I close my eyes for a moment and squeeze them shut before I open them to find Yasmeena. I hate her. I hate her so much, and yet I am curiousabout her. Her past… even her biology. All of it intrigues me. Maybe more than anything or anyone else here.
There’s some shuffling about as food is passed around the table, and I realize I’m the only one still standing.
“There’s a seat next to me, Princess,” Yasmeena says, patting the chair beside her. The nickname, which I know is a jab, sounds like a term of endearment to the untrained ear.
Raph claps his hands together loudly. “Good evening, carnies. It’s time to discuss our plans for new acts.”
Movement No. 8
Tempest
Growing up, I was never very good at playing pretend, or telling a fib. I would rather keep quiet than say something other than the truth. It’s not that I was morally righteous or anything—I just knew I wouldn’t get away with it.
I am a terrible liar and the pressure of keeping up with the layers of facades I’m maintaining right now is already starting to eat away at me. I don’t know how people do this for their job. Hel,Yasmeena and Gemmado this professionally. They spy on people, lying to them I’m sure, but it might be easier for them because it’s only temporary. They get to come home to their family of carnies.
I might be trapped in this lie until the day I die. Even if our plan works and we break off our engagement, my people will always think that at one point I loved Yasmeena. It wouldn’t be so bad, but for Fenris and Stephano and the others who know what The Devil’s Masquerade did to Tyrus—it’s dishonorable. I’m not sure they’ll ever forgive me. I know I wouldn’t.
In a way, I almost hope someone challenges me when it becomes my time to step up as Alpha. As much as I love this pack, there might be something freeing about being absolved of the history and my responsibility. To just be a lone wolf.
Almost.The problem is, I was built for this. Literally bred to one day assist the leader of my pack.
I shift my feet back and forth, the river water up to my ankles, and let the cool stream flow past me. There’s a large fish down below, its blue scales sparkling in the crystal clear water, and I’m half-tempted to make it my lunch, when it starts moving closer and I see it’s not a fish at all, but a merfolk.
“Good morning! What brings you here?” she asks, and I freeze.
“Sorry, I didn’t realize the river belonged to anyone.”
She shakes her head. “It doesn’t, I’m just not used to visitors.”
I’ve never seen a merfolk this close, or outside of a tank. She’s beautiful, her skin a vibrant azure. Each scale shimmers like a gemstone in the sunlight, creating miniature rainbows as she shifts. Most demons, half-demons, and demon-hybrids have red or pink, relatively humanoid hands. I have paws, which is also fairly common, but this mermaid has webbed fingers that remind me of a frog. They’re really cool and an ounce of me wants to keep observing her, but I know that would be weird.
“I’m Tempest,” I say, looking up at the sky, trying to recall her name. “You’re… Taryn?”
“The one and only. It’s okay to look at me, I’m not allergic to staring,” she says, and I glance back down into her cerulean eyes. “I don’t get to see many lupion up close. Can I see your… claws?”
I nod, one corner of my mouth turning up. “Only if I can see your hands as well.”
We place one hand into the other’s, and I peer at the sheer flesh spanning her fingers, and the way it blends in with the skin of her hands so seamlessly. She’s still staring at my paws when my eyes roam over her form, noticing the soft curve of her body, as well as scars from tiny incisions.
Under her jaw, at the side of her breasts. I wonder what caused them. Should I ask, or just leave it alone? I don’t want to be rude.
I shouldn’t be making friends here, but I also don’t have to be a dick to everyone. Besides, maybe having an ally within the carnival, or even someone who likes me enough not to kill me, could be a good thing.
Especially when I take out Draven.
When I glance back up, she meets my gaze. “I’m?—”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare,” I say, my heart lurching into my throat. “You don’t have to tell me what happened to you; I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s okay, I’m not ashamed of who I am, I’m just shy.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’m trans, they’re surgery scars.”
I let out a breath of relief. “Oh. Oh thank goodness. Sorry, I really didn’t mean to stare. Okay, I meant to stare, but like… at your scales, not your scars.”
Taryn lets out a giggle. “You’re fine, take a deep breath,” she says, and I oblige. “I always felt like I was a woman, and I always wanted to be a star, and now I’m both. I’m incredibly happy.”
