“The mask too.”
He studies me for a long moment, then reaches up and removes it. “It’s me.”
I study him in return—his features, his eyes, the hard line of his mouth set tight against the unfamiliar power he’s exuding.
Just then, Eridessa cries out.
We both go still.
His head tilts, listening as her voice carries—pleading, breaking, calling for me. He clicks his tongue, and Cali steps forward.
“I know that voice,” he says, something like awe creeping into his tone. “The white female. The marked one. Her scent’s on the wind.”
His eager expression sets my teeth on edge. More so, the way his gaze fixes on the house.
I thrust my hand up, a shield forming between us. “Don’t come any closer.”
“Orán. I’m not going to hurt her.” He palms his chest, rubbing at it before shaking his head as if to clear it. “Who is she?”
“None of your concern.”
“Here’s the thing, brother—it is.” His gaze flicks back to me. “If she’s who I think she is, she’s tied to this. Tied to me. I’ve been following her scent. It’s what led me here… after the wolf.”
“Wolf?”
“Yes. A wolf guided me for days in this direction. Then this morning… he was gone. I had to find my own way. I could feel something pulling me this way. I thought it was you, but then I caught her scent, and it brought me the rest of the way here. To this forest. To this place.”
“Something’s not right with you.” I study him, unease settling deeper. “Your power—it’s changed. It’s seeking mine out. Trying to force it to submit.”
“I can’t control it.” His jaw tightens. “Something happened. To tell the truth of it, I haven’t yet wrapped my mind around it.”
He looks at Cali, then back at the house. “I was led here, Orán. I’m not lying. And I’m not sure why yet, but there has got to be a reason.”
I want to believe every word he utters, but I’m leery for Eri's sake. “If it’s really you, then what’s my name? The one given to me by Mother? What unnecessary drivel did she always pander on about that made Father groan?”
“Orán, really?”
“There are trickster gods. Gods who can take the form of another. You and I both know this. So before I let you take another step toward that house, I need to know it’s really you.”
He glances aside, then grabs the reins and swings his leg over, dismounting with a slow shake of his head. He drapes the reins over the pommel, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“I haven’t thought of that in… well, many, many moons. Further back than I can remember, it seems.”
“You’re not getting any closer to me—or that fucking house—until you do.”
He studies me for a long moment, then tips his head back, eyes tracking the sky.
A dark chuckle leaves him.
“Well, let’s hear it.”
He exhales. “Alright. If I must.”
His regalia melts away, leaving him in black—more man than immortal. His gaze meets and holds mine.
“You are Lorán Andres Valor McTierney. Graceful as an ox and as smart as a falcon. She also likened you to her content old cat, Tommel, when he found a house mouse to play with. Said, I was somehow the mouse, and you’d be miserable without me. As long as I didn’t get sick of you, you’d be happy as a clam for the rest of your days.”
A brief pause, his gaze drifting somewhere past me.
