Lips pressed to her temple, and words, rumbling like thunder on the horizon, were close to her ear.“This has only just begun…”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Nos looked up from his book and smiled at the sleeping form of Ibin across from him in the den. She was such a work of art. Wings curled up by her face, her beak tucked into the delicate down feathers. She had perched upon the arm of the chair closest to the fire, one of her long, thin legs pulled up into her downy body.
She was stunning in either of her forms. Stork or woman. He would move her to her bed, but jostling her about in her avian form was a delicate task, and he hated doing it. So, he would leave her be until she woke from her nap. But he supposed he should take the moment to check on their…guest.
Standing, he set his book down quietly on his seat before heading down the hallway. Taking in the lost human was a terrible idea. It was dangerous, and it was going to cause them nothing but headache, if not calamity, before all was said and done.
Ibin had not seen the mayhem that could be caused when the mad bastard Serrik made a bid for freedom. She did not know the lives it could cost, and the pain it could bring. But her heart was kind, and largely yet unweathered by the cruelty of time and the actions of others.
Nos would protect it for as long as he could. Though he did not honestly know why he bothered. It was a foolish game. A story he told himself—a stuffed child’s toy he clung to in the dark. It would only last for so long before it was taken away from him. He knew it, but he could not give it up all the same.
When he reached the door to the room Ibin had given the young lost woman, he leaned in to listen. There was no noise from within. Rapping his knuckles on the wood surface, he waited. No answer. Perhaps she was asleep.
Or perhaps she had done them all a favor and fashioned a noose from the bedsheets and done herself in. No, he was not going to be that lucky. Nor would it do any good, with that damnable grimoire bound to her soul.
Opening the door slowly, he peeked inside. It took him a moment to find her. But when he did, he let out a heavy sigh.
She was curled up beneath a pile of blankets in a ball, looking like a frightened child hiding from the darkness. And at her side, like a cat, the book in question. That damnable thing of lies. That creation that existed and yet did not.
How he wished he could have told Ava the truth. But here, surrounded by Serrik’s power—there was nothing Nos could say that would not see his limbs pulled from his sockets and rearranged. He had already been through that once before. He did not wish to have it happen again.
The woman’s brow was furrowed. Her hair was still damp, a mane of wild, nearly black curls. She was a pretty thing. Beautiful, even, with her large eyes.
A shame she was so impertinent.
There were those within the Web who would delight in breaking her of such a blazing personality. A few who would delight in it. Apetis to be seen and not heard, after all. Atrinketis to be displayed and owned, and not meant to partake in conversation.
And it had become painfully and immediately clear to both Ibin and Nos that Ava would likely shatter before she would bend.
Thus began their debate—nay, argument—that had stretched long into the night. Nos wished to see her traded away at any cost. Free, if needs must. Anything to keep themselves safe.
But Ibin disagreed. She would be maimed. Tortured. And with Serrik on her heels—whispering stories of cruelty and destruction, luring her to his side, entreating her to help him destroy them all—they would have to strive to paint a kinder picture of their kind.
As if such a thing were possible.
He was the wrong ambassador for such a task. Looking down at his mismatched hands, he released a long breath. He knew the cruelty of his kind more than most. Yet, he did not wish to see his ilk wiped from existence.
Perhaps not for his own sake.
But most certainly for that of Ibin’s.
Ava let out a whimper and rolled over, caught in a nightmare. The blanket fell from her shoulders, and she wrapped her arms around herself.
You will be the literal death of me, human.Nos clenched his fists at his sides. But he could not let the little thing suffer. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he silently crossed the room to her and pulled the blanket back up to cover her.
And was deeply glad she would not know anything of his “kindness.”
He would convince Ibin to sell her to the others. Perhaps it would take time. But he knew it was time they did not have. Others in the Web were already gathering, curious about the new owner of the tome and if she would seek to undo them all.
That was to say nothing of their wardens.
No, time wasnottheir ally.
Returning to the door, he cast one last glance back toward where the human slept. Some part of him pitied her. It was not her fault she was cast away from her society and her family and trapped with the rest of them.
Nor was it the fault of the fly consumed by the spider.
