Think.
“I have the serpent mark on my wrist,” I blurt out, knowing that will mean something to Hector, and he will be more likely to help me.
Disbelief etches Cenric’s features as he lowers the dagger to the table, but his stare never leaves mine. It stabs right through me.
“I need your help,” I say to Hector. “Please.”
The sky above! I hate being so desperate, so needy.
But what choice do I have?
Cenric laughs, the sound roars through me, mocking me and my inability to figure everything out on my own.
“Go away,” he says callously, then he lifts his tankard and takes a long drink.
“I cannot.” This time, I look at Cenric as I speak. “I cannot find Everly anywhere, and I cannot leave this city without her.”
Threads of emotion flash in Cenric’s eyes before he blinks, and they fade. “You know Everly?”
“Yes.”
“Impossible. She’d never associate with a Kyanite.” His stare lowers to my amulet and drifts away.
I shove the necklace with the kyanite stone into my bodice and take a deep breath. “I need someone to help me search for Everly. And I need horses and provisions for traveling.”
Cenric smirks again as Hector studies me.
“She’s diverting, is she not?” Cenric leans closer to me. “And she’s not old. Though, I do question why she feels the need to rub ash and soot all over her face.”
“It was necessary,” I say truthfully.
An even wider smirk tugs at Cenric’s upper lip. “Is it because you’re an ugly Kyanite?”
Unconsciously, I lift my hand, rubbing at the soot on my cheeks. “No.”
“Is it because you have something wrong with your hands?”
I drop them back to my lap and let out a frustrated breath. “No…I…”
Amber shadows skim Cenric’s face as he glances at his quiet companion. “You should take her upstairs, Gabriel. I imagine she may surprise you when she’s had a good bath.”
“No,” Hector says curtly.
Oh, yes.
He should.
Right now.
“Yes,” I say, my tone too breathless, too revealing in my need for him.
Hector arches a dark eyebrow. “I’m not interested.”
“Well, I am.”
“Oh, this is quite delightful.” Cenric swoops up his tankard and grins. “She really wants you.”
Want? That’s not the right word to describe my intense longing.
