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KYLLEN
He took another sip through the tube Amira had found for him to use as a straw. Cool, clean water filled his mouth and slid down his throat with a swallow. It was his third bottle today, and he could finally drink slowly, savoring every drop.
His skin remained uncomfortably dry, tugging when he moved. But inside, he felt almost normal again. His lungs drew in air easier. His heart pumped the gradually increasing amount of blood. His brain functioned well. And his words left his well-hydrated throat so much more smoothly.
The iron manacles around his wrists chafed and burned his skin, but there was nothing he could do about them. They were made from Nerifirian iron, a metal hazardous to all fae. To remove them, he needed tools. To obtain items he could convert into tools, he needed Amira.
The human girl had been timid and shy, but she’d returned to his crate after the stop, which gave him more time to work on gaining her trust. He made himself as comfortable as was possible in this abhorrent box. His back to the wall of the crate, he stretched his legs in front of him.
“Tell me more about yourself,” he asked Amira, leisurely sipping the life-bringing water.
He no longer believed she was acting on Ghata’s orders to ruin him. The girl couldn’t lie to save her life. Even without seeing her face, he could hear it in her voice whenever she was unsure about something, and she seemed to be unsure a lot.
“There really isn’t much more to tell,” she said softly. She always spoke and moved softly, as if afraid to disturb the balance in her world by making any kind of noise.
He heard her shift against the wood of the crate. She must be sitting in a similar position to his, leaning against the same wall of the crate, right behind him.
“There must be more to your story,” he insisted, for several reasons.
One, he was bored, having sat in this crate for gods knew how long. The conversation entertained him.
Two, he needed to get to know her in order to figure out the best way to use her to his advantage. Maybe he could even manipulate her into setting him free?
And three, he was curious about this human woman who’d spent her life in the household of a disgraced werewolf goddess and her pack of monks.
“And don’t tell me humans are boring,” he warned.
“But we are,” she replied. “We have no magic.”
He scoffed. “Magic may make a person more powerful, but not necessarily more interesting.”
She paused, possibly pondering his words.
“Listen,” she said. “How did you know I was a human? I never told you. You never asked.”
“Oh, that was easy.” He chuckled. “Only a clueless human would come anywhere near a gorgonian. Everyone else would know to stay away.”
Contrary to his intentions to lure her in, his words had the strong potential to frighten her away. But he felt the need to warn her. She had to know he was dangerous, lest she do something stupid and unwittingly get herself killed.
Silence hung between them, long enough for him to worry he might’ve ruined his one chance at freedom, as slim as it had been.
“What did you do to Krin?” she finally asked, her voice barely audible.
“Who’s Krin?” The name told him nothing.
“The brack who was in the room when Madame spoke to you last.”
That jolted his memory.
“That’s right. You were there, too, weren’t you? The sneaky little thing that you are.”
She gasped. “How do you…”
“I have good hearing.” He smirked. “And you have a distinct way of moving around. No one steals and scurries in this place but you.”
“Please don’t tell Madame,” she begged. “I wasn’t supposed to be there. It was an accident.”
He filed that piece of information away, adding a weapon to his arsenal against her. However, the thought of blackmailing Amira didn’t sit well with him. This weak, frightened woman didn’t present a formidable adversary. Harming her in any way would feel like kicking a kitten, he imagined.
“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’m not exactly on friendly terms with Ghata. There’s no risk of me spilling your secrets to her in a friendly chat during an afternoon tea.”
“Madame doesn’t take tea in the afternoon.” Amira’s voice lightened. The idea of him having a friendly chat over a cup of tea with her “Madame” must have amused her.
He smiled, pleased with himself for lightening the mood of this somber, quiet girl.
Not for long, though. Her voice came solemn again. “I found Krin’s thumb. He cut it that day. The wound was still there—a scratch on the pad. The thumb was a rock.”
He let go of the tube with water, blocking its opening with his thumb, and released a long breath.
Would the truth terrify her? Would she run, taking away his only hope?
“What are you, Kyllen? What does gorgonian mean?” Her voice was wary.
He wondered if he’d jumped to conclusions about her way too quickly. She might be inexperienced and hungry for company—even if the company was someone like him—but she wasn’t stupid. Her sense of self-preservation must be high for her to survive in Ghata’s household for that long.
She’d also lived through Ghata’s interrogation of him when the goddess had foolishly ordered to open his crate. Amira survived when that Krin guy didn’t.
“Gorgonian is just another type of fae, Amira.” He kept his voice soft and pleasant so as not to spook her any more than she already was.
Her fear didn’t stop her from asking more questions. “How do you turn a man into a stone? That was what happened to Krin, wasn’t it?”
He had to put her mind at ease and make her trust him completely, even if that meant lying to her. But he just couldn’t lie. If she senses the insincerity, whatever understanding had formed between them so far would be irrevocably broken.
“Yes. I was the one who turned Krin into stone,” he replied honestly, hoping she was strong enough to handle the truth.
She sucked in air sharply. “How did you do it?”
“Through eye contact, Amira. If you want to live, never look me straight in the eye, or in the eyes of my senties.”
“Senties?” she echoed. “What are those?”
“The feelers I have on my head instead of hair. Twenty-four of them. And each has eyes. Twenty-four extra pairs of eyes I use to watch for danger around me. And twenty-four extra pairs of eyes you have to avoid looking into.”
“How can one avoid that?”
“Exactly. It’s impossible. That’s why you should never look at me directly if you don’t want to end up like that poor fellow Krin.”
Krin was a brack. He might’ve been one of those who tricked and captured him back in the forest of Ellohi. Kyllen found no sympathy for Krin in his heart. He doubted Amira was heartbroken over his death, either. She appeared to be more shocked by it than saddened.
