“He probably thinks he’s going insane,” he says, ascending the steps to our piteous lodging.
A burst of laughter punches from me at the thought, but I smother it with a cough when Tristan tosses a warning look over his shoulder.
“Are you sure you didn’t create it intentionally?” he asks suspiciously.
“Positive. I've thought of nothing else since it happened. I didn't do anything. What do you think this means?”
“I don't know. Let me think on it a bit.”
The wood railing on the porch steps snags on my vambraces. I tug it free and look up to see Tristan peering at me with a curious expression.
“Hmm.” He hums. “You do seem to have a rather extreme reaction to him. I wonder if that could be the cause.”
Extreme is too meager a word.
The Captain’s ruggedly beautiful face appears before my eyes, causing my body to warm and my heart to race as I imagine his massive form dominating me at this very moment, piercing me with those glacial blue eyes that always seem to burn with a desperate need to consume every inch of me. The same need that has me often fighting against offering myself up as his own personal sacrifice, and in turn losing all sense of self, losing sight of my cause.
Dispelling the thought, I say, “I should probably just focus on avoiding him.”
Or try to, at least.
“I don't know. If Darius isn’t aware of the bond, this could prove beneficial to us,” he says as he steps under the Gods Light on the inn's deck. “That is, if you’re able to overcome your…urges.”
I grimace. “In other words, suck it up?”
He smiles. “Exactly.” He scans the street over his shoulder and purses his lips. “Although, after your spectacle today, any attempted subterfuge with him may be moot. I doubt you can go anywhere in Seboia without eyes tracking you.” He peeks at me out of the corner of his eye, a mischievous twinkle to it that the God of Mischief, Saxon himself would be jealous of. “I might just have to lock you up.”
“Funny,” I say dryly, passing him by.
Reaching for the door handle, I hesitate, my fingers hovering above as I stare down at my fingerless vambraces, wondering what Darius is thinking at this moment. Is he cursing me for my deception? Has he written me off all together? Or is he thinking of me just as I am him? Wondering what it would be like if we were both born to a different life? A life where we could choose to live however we wish? With whomever we wish?
I chuckle humorlessly to myself, curling my fingers around the handle and opening the door. That life isn’t in the Stars for me. Never will be, no matter the circumstances. But it could be for him. He could leave this place, travel the world, see these realms. Find a female worthy of him and he of her, settle down and start a family. To build a life filled with laughter and love.
But that’s only if I’m strong enough to endure what's to come. Because for him to live in such a world, for him to experience that peaceful existence, blood must be spilled by my hand.
I can only hope it won’t be his blood I’m forced to shed.
Chapter 12Darius
The wind whistles in my ears, tangling my hair and creaking the branches of the trees inhabiting the Cursed Woods. Griffin stands beside me. His face is pinched in thought as the twin moons peek above the wall, casting a momentary light on Kace as he paces back and forth, before the white beams disappear behind a passing cloud. A precursor for the incoming storm.
“We found them at the end of patrol,” the wiry guard says with a tremble to his voice, his eyes downcast and tremors shuddering through his body more violently than the leaves rustling above.
Grunting, I appraise the skittish fae currently staring at my chin, wondering how he managed to become a patrolling guard when he can't even look me in the eye. I may have a rather violent reputation, but one would think the Soulless are much more terrifying creatures than I am.
At my continued silence, sweat begins to bead above his brow and he tugs nervously at the collar of his vest. I curl my lip at the sight and turn away from him, staring up at the white wall encircling Seboia. Or more precisely, the jagged claw marks defacing the once smooth stone.
Shaped like a pyramid, the claw marks start out wide at the base at about five feet off the ground. Then as they rise, it narrows to a triangular point at around twenty feet. The crisscrossed slashes carve a few inches within the stone, appearing to be a victim of an animal mauling. But unlike animals who have a soul, the creatures who did this certainly do not.
“It was a large group, too,” the guard explains, finally finding a bit of courage without me looking at him. “We didn’t even notice the Soulless until we were almost on top of them.”
Sky darkening by the second with the retreating moons, I summon orbs of fire from the palm of my hand. Flicking my wrist, they streak through the air to hover above all present. “How many Soulless were there?”
“I’m not sure. Twenty or so?”
I frown. That explains the number of markings, but not the height. All Soulless were once human, fae, or immortal before they were turned to the undead, and I've never heard of any of those beings reaching that height. Possibly a god, but I doubt gods are clawing at the walls of my city.
“How many guards were injured?” Griffin asks as he begins wading through the fallen leaves and forest growth.
“None. Most of the Soulless ran away.”
Surprised, my gaze snaps to his. “Ran away?”
“Yes, sir,” he mumbles as his chin drops down to his chest, staring at his feet. “A few stayed and we fought them off, but the rest ran away.”
Folding my arms over my chest, I return my attention to the wall, striding closer. The ball of fire floating above my head casts an orange shadow over the wall as I scrutinize the inch-deep indentations carved into the white stone. Squinting, I discover it appears as if someone gouged it with a hook.
“The Soulless aren’t subtle creatures,” Kace says, tossing the guard a reproachful glare. “It's difficult to believe you didn’t hear them before you spotted them.”
The guard shuffles his feet, snapping twigs with his anxious movements. “They were silent.” The guard's uneasy eyes stray to the stone. “If we hadn’t heard the scraping and come to investigate, we never would've known they were here.”
Griffin walks toward the wall, crinkling orange and yellow leaves beneath his boots. Raising his arm, he grazes his hand across the markings. “What were they doing when you came across them?”
The guard hesitates, and I wonder how long he’s been enlisted if he can barely hold a conversation with a high-ranking officer.
“They were just scratching the wall.” He shrugs, seeming unsure.
Griffin’s hand stills above the gashes, his brows snapping together. “If they were only scratching, how were they able to scratch that high when none of them could’ve possibly been taller than six feet or so?”
