CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ava sat sideways in the plush, wingback chair to listen to Serrik talk. He was fascinating. She couldn’t help it. Terrifying, yes—but alluring in the same breath. Something about him drew her in, even as she knew how easy it’d be for him to rip out her throat with those pointed, golden nails of his with little more than a gesture.
He wasn’t human.
And it wasn’t easy to forget that, looking at him. In the amber of the firelight, at least the fact that his eyesglowedwas a little less noticeable. But still, everything about him screamedmonster.
The green hair. The pointed ears. The pale green-gray of his skin. The inhuman, sharply pointed beauty to his features. Even the way he moved reminded her more of a shark or a panther in its smooth grace than a person.
But damn it all if it wasn’thypnotizing.
She sipped her wine and tucked her knees into the arm of the chair.
“Before you dive in,” she interrupted him before he went head-long into the story. “Where’s Hypaepa? My ancient map knowledge is lacking. It sounds Greek?”
“Yes, you could consider us that. We were Lydian, which was east of Athens.” A line between his brow appeared as he pondered a thought. “I believe it is now part of the…Ottoman Empire?”
That made her laugh. “Sorry buddy, that hasn’t existed for a hundred years. I think you’re talking about Turkey, now.”
“Hm.” He sighed. “Human history moves quickly when one cannot observe it directly.” Shrugging idly, he sipped his alcohol. With a gesture, he summoned a tray of food between them. Fruit and what looked like cured meats, all arranged on a silver tray. Reaching out, he plucked a bunch of grapes, deftly holding the stem between his gold nails. “It is largely unimportant.”
“Context helps.” She smiled. “It helps me picture the people, how they lived—the white walls, the red brick roofs, the courtyard. Sets the stage, y’know? Everybody is a product of where they are.”
“Hm.” His eyes half-drifted shut as he watched the flames.
She realized she had just insulted him in theworstway. “I mean—I’m sorry.” Cringing, she shifted to sit up a bit. “You don’t have a choice to be here. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just an architecture nut, that’s all. It was what I was studying in college. I like to see the people reflected in their surroundings.”
“No offense was taken, little butterfly, as you are quite right. We are products of the world around us—and, in return, we make them a product of ourselves.” He gestured aimlessly with a hand. “I, too, enjoy designing spaces. This place was my masterwork, after all. And it has come to reflect my own sense of self. Shaped and reshaped by me over time,ex nihilo.”
Blinking, she looked around the room more curiously. “This place evolves.”
“Yes, little butterfly.” He chuckled, clearly seeing where her mind was going. “It changes as its inhabitants change, taking on pieces of them—like a parrot, mimicking its owner.”
She paused for a moment, processing that. “So, okay,whydid they hurt you, andwhydid that make you want to trap the Morrigan here? I can’t imagine the fae go around—” She paused. “Never mind, maybe they do go around randomly maiming each other.”
He chuckled. “Contrary to what you have witnessed, no. There are laws that govern the fae that we are free of in this place, and now you see why such things are imposed upon us. And shame on you. You are jumping to the end, little butterfly. If you let me tell my story, you would understand why I was so outcast.”
“Sorry. Sidetracked by architecture.” She rested her head against the back of the upholstered chair. She was exhausted. “It happens.”
“I look forward to it.” And, weirdly enough, that sounded genuine, even if it was partly said through a teasing smile. Little by little, she was starting to be able to figure out his moods. They were subtle, barely there—but theywerethere. “Where was I?”
“Hypaepa.”
“Yes. I had not even begun.” He swirled his alcohol in his glass before sipping it. “My mother was a renowned artisan and witch in her own right.”
“Your mother the Morrigan?”
“No. I am the product of two mothers.”
Ava blinked. Went to open her mouth to speak. Paused. Thought it over for a second, then shrugged. “Loki got shagged up as a lady horse, didn’t he? I guess that tracks. Magic, gods, and reasons. Whatever.”
Serrik looked like her reaction to the revelation that he was born of two women was both a relief andextremelypainful to him at the same time. He took a large swig of his drink. “Yes…well…magic, gods, and reasons.My mother was a witch, and merchants would come from far and wide for a chanceto purchase her tapestries and linens of the finest quality that seemed to bless those who owned them with fortune and good luck. Unfortunately, for her, she was also a bit of a braggart.”
A dozen questions sprung to mind, but she kept them tamped down and let him talk.
“In the ancient days, so-called ‘gods’ and ‘goddesses’ ran rampant upon Earth. And when my mother, fool that she was, decided to insult Athena?—”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa—” Nope, that was too much to let slide by. “Athena? Like,theAthena?”
