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Graeson shrugged. "Could be better, could be worse."
"Worse? How could it possibly be worse?" Kallie spat.
"Fynn could be dead," Graeson stated.
Beside him, Fynn chuckled, but it was tinged with pain. "Give me some credit, Gray. I am much harder to kill."
Kallie wanted to shout, to scream. To stab both of them—again. She didn't know what to believe. She had never known what it was like to have a mother and had always craved one. However, if Fynn was right, how did she end up in Ardentol with King Domitius? And why hadn't she, or anyone else for that matter, come for Kallie before now? She was twenty years old. If she had no recollection of any of this, then it had been over a decade and a half since they had been separated.
Noneof this made sense. It was too coincidental.
"How?" She asked through clenched teeth.
"It's all quite—" Fynn groaned and pressed his palm into his wound, "complicated, Kals."
She flinched at the name that only Myra used. And when she spoke, she nearly screamed. "Why would I believe you? You offer me nothing! Nothing more than vague claims you can't back up."
Kallie turned and started to walk away, running her hands through her hair. Her father had once warned her that people would say anything to trick her. To grab her attention, to pull her to their side. She repeated her father's words over and over again in her head, the warnings he had given her before she had left.
Mortals and gods alike were prone to telling others anything short of the truth if it meant they would get what they wanted. And while she had come to master the art of manipulation, she wasn’t immune to it.
"Your gift."
Her steps faltered at those two small words, but she continued forward nevertheless.
"You can do things that no one you know can, Kallie," Fynn added.
She paused, clenching her dagger in her hand. "I don't know what you're talking about," she forced her voice to sound unfazed, but inside she was shaking.
"I know, Kals," Fynn said as if he was responding to her thoughts and goosebumps scattered across her skin.
She glanced over her shoulder, found Fynn now propped up against the wall as he held his side with a new strip of fabric wrapped around his torso. The spread of blood had slowed and the color began to return to his face.
"What do you mean, 'you know?' Knowwhatexactly?" Her words were barely above a whisper. There was no point in hiding her fear. It was written all over her face as her deepest secret was being pulled to the surface. Although she tried, she couldn't keep her hold on it as it began to slip from her grasp.
"Despite what you may think, you are not the only one who has been blessed by the gods, sister."
She narrowed her gaze on the man who now claimed to be her brother.
"It's in our blood." Fynn inhaled sharply. "Domitius may have told you that you were the chosen one, someone special, but you're not."
She stared him down. Whatever he said, whatever his reasoning was, it was a lie. She was special, she was unique. Her father had told her time and time again. No one could do what she could. No one had her gift. But still, doubt crept in. “What do you mean?"
"Our family, among many of the families in Pontia, have special abilities the gods granted to us. While yours is unique, it is not the only gift that exists."
Kallie let out a nervous laugh. "Oh? And what can you do besides be an arrogant ass who steals women? That doesn't seem that special of a trait if you ask me."
Graeson, who she had nearly forgotten about, cleared his throat to cover the amusement written plainly across his face.
Fynn ignored his friend though. "I can hear your thoughts."
Curiosity pulled the words from her mouth before she could think better of it. "Hear my thoughts?"
"Yes, that's why Graeson was waiting out here for you. I knew you were planning to escape."
"And you took your dandy time, too," Graeson grumbled, but Kallie refused to glance at him.
A dry laugh passed her lips. "Anyone could figure that out. It doesn't take you hearing my thoughts to know I want to leave."
