Page 84 of Serpent and Shadow

I flinched, then froze utterly.

I stopped breathing. I silenced my mind.

The voice had been near. Too near.

It sounded like it had come from right outside the alcove’s opening.

“I know you came this way,” he purred silkily. “You really want to play this game with me, you little fuck? You know how it always goes in the end.”

I felt Caelum’s attention on me, narrowed to a point as if willing me to be quiet with everything in his being.

“You better not be getting any ideas about running, runt,” the voice cooed. “You know you’ll never get out of here, collar or no collar. You even think about bolting before the job tonight, and I’ll give you back to Sirena to play with. You know how much she loves to play with you. Then again, maybe you’re beginning to like it…”

A wave of sickness hit me, and I closed my eyes.

I felt Bones flinch, but he didn’t release my neck. I felt his finger trace lightly over the cut, almost like he was trying to gauge how deep it was.

“Come out, you fuck. Now!” Real anger seeped into his thick words. “You’ll regret making me miss your father’s opening remarks, I promise you!”

I thought maybe Bones would. That he’d let go of me, and step back out there.

Maybe I even felt him thinking about it.

My hand closed on his arm, gripping it tightly.

He didn’t move. He held me, his breath silent where he pressed me into the wall.

After a long-feeling pause, I heard those feet resume moving.

They continued down the corridor faster, and louder than before.

“Gods-damned little prick,” I heard him mutter. “Father’s going to skin him… then he’s going to skin me…”

I listened, ears straining, as the sounds followed the turn at the portrait, walking around the same sharp corner the others had taken. Neither of us moved, even after it had grown silent once more, and all that could be heard was the faintest whisper of magical fire.

Then, all at once, the talisman clicked off.

Five minutes and eight seconds had passed.

I found myself staring up at Bones, who stood over me, his eyes aimed at the corridor. Because it took him a few seconds longer to realize we were no longer invisible, he stared out the lit opening, his chest moving in silent, shallow breaths, his eyes wide, his face taut. I used those seconds to really look at him, and realized I’d missed a few things in my initial shock at seeing him. A new scar decorated one cheekbone. It wasn’t wide, but it cut at an angle down one side of his face. He’d told me once that magic prevented most scarring.

Either he’d gotten it from some kind of dark curse, or it had been bad enough that even magic couldn’t fix it.

He turned, sharply, and stared down at me.

For the first time, he really looked at my face.

His eyes looked faintly sunken. He looked older, and disturbingly more like his father.

How did he look older in only a few months?

When I refocused on his expression, I saw him trying to control some emotional reaction that once more caused his eyes to glow. He was breathing harder. Still silently, but hard enough to move his chest, and make his hand tremble where he held me. He looked over my face like he was struggling with my appearance, too, or maybe like he’d never expected to see me again.

Then his eyes fell to my throat.

He stared at whatever the dagger had done and I saw his own throat move in a swallow.

His thumb lightly traced the cut there.