I decided to change the subject. Their relationship was none of my business, anyway. “Can you tell me about the prophecy?”
She let out a bark of laughter. “I wish for a good brawl, Chosen, not to get murdered. Donovan does not want your decisions influenced by knowing the details of an ancient prophecy that has been translated through so many languages, it could be completely inaccurate. Besides”—she nudged me cozily—“The wording is vague. At this stage, all we know for sure is that you are the Chosen, and you are the only one who can protect the stones from the Devourer.” She gave me a wink. “All the other details are open to interpretation.”
It wasn’t anything I didn’t already know. “Fine,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Can you tell me about centaurs, Cress?”
Her expression brightened. “I am pleased we may be going to war with them. They are a military species who enjoy battle. Unfortunately, most of their strength lies in archery, but I can work with that.” Her eyes narrowed. “All I need is a good shield and my two legs to carry me close enough to their herd.”
“Uh, I mean, can you tell me about what they are like?”
She looked at me, puzzled. “I am.”
“Other than their strengths and weaknesses in battle.”
She snorted. “What is there to say?”
“Well…” My gut churned. I was so damned worried about Audrina. I needed to know if they would kill her when they realized she wasn’t me. “Are they violent? Or cruel? Or bloodthirsty?”
“Yes.” She smiled widely.
“Oh, no!”
“But no more than your average mortal,” she added. “If you are worried for your friend, the songbird, I dare say you should be. But I do not believe the centaurs would murder her, if it does not advance their cause in any way. If they know now that she is not the Chosen, they will keep her until they find a purpose for her.”
I let out a tiny exhale, and some of the tightness in my chest eased. “Good.”
“They might still torture her for information, though,” she said brightly. “I expect if we rescue Lady Audrina, she will be inexplicably damaged, both physically and mentally.”
My gut clenched so hard I almost vomited.
Cress frowned and leaned over, looking me in the face. “Chosen. Are you well? Your face has drained of blood.” She peered closer. “And you look different.”
“Cress…” I said faintly. “Give me a second.” I focused on my breath, tamping down the dread that rose in me. “And please, keep talking. Where would we find a centaur?”
“Everywhere,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “They are a Middle World species, and their own realm is very small. Like shifters, a good proportion of them prefer to live permanently in the human world.”
“I’m guessing they wear disguises?”
She nodded. “They wear glamors to go about their business here. Over the past few centuries, their glamor magic has been perfected so much so that you wouldn’t know one if they were sitting next to you. The only clue is their hair. They adore their manes. In this realm, virile human men tend to go bald due to an overproduction of testosterone, but centaurs are the opposite. A thick dense head of hair is a sign of virility, and they are too vain to hide it with a glamor. The most they will do is shorten it, but they wouldn’t thin it out.” She jerked her head, gesturing towards the grumpy-looking older man in the aisle seat next to her.
The man had a thick head of white hair that almost touched his bushy eyebrows, but it was cut in a military-precise fade, with a flat top so accurate his barber probably used a level to get it just right.
“He could be a centaur,” she whispered.
I eyed the older man. “How would we find out?”
“Oh, you don’t have to ask; they will tell you. The centaur’s pride is their biggest weakness. Centaurs are an egotistical species, entirely convinced of their own superiority.” She turned away from me, sitting back in her chair, and leaned slightly towards the man. She raised her voice. “Horses are stupid. Their legs are too weak and break easily.”
The man frowned, his white mustache bristling. But he didn’t say anything.
Cress turned back to me. “Definitely not a centaur.”
I nodded. “Okay. So, we fall into conversation with an arrogant-looking man with a full head of hair, drop some insults about horses, and see what they say?”
“That will work well,” Cress agreed.
I gnawed on my lip for a second. “Is their realm easy to get into?”
She nodded. “Their realm is closely aligned with the human one—so much so that sometimes, it overlaps.”
“What does that mean?”
“If you are running through a meadow in the woods,” she said, turning to look at me again. “On a bright spring day…” A far-away expression came over her face; her eyes dipped, glazing slightly. “The buttons of your gown undone, breasts bouncing, your hair flowing in the breeze…”
“Cress?”
She shook herself slightly. “If you are not paying attention to the buzz of magic around you, you may find yourself skipping through the edges of their realm without having to enter through a portal. The centaurs are prideful and arrogant, so they do not secure their borders as firmly as the mer or the vampires. They are fools who assume they will hold their lands forever.”
I remembered what Donovan had told me about the precious minerals buried beneath the earth in their world. “They’ve never been threatened before?”
“Of course. But as conceited beasts, many of them have found their way into positions of power here in the human realm. They are some of your politicians.”
“Oh. Oh, that makes sense.”
Cress clenched her fists. “I am looking forward to this fight, Chosen. Tis a shame I cannot prime my weapons now.”
The grizzled white-haired man on the other side of her twitched. “What did you say?”
Cress eyed him icily. “None of your concern, mortal. Turn your head, or I shall cut it from your neck.”
