Hector folds his arms across his body, and studies me. I keep my focus on him, not willing to back down or walk away from the first glimpse of hope I have found since I stepped through that portal.
“What did you say your name is?” Hector asks.
“Sol.”
His gaze lowers to my bodice, to where I hid the necklace away. “And you’re Kyanite?”
“Yes.” I swallow through the sudden dryness and force the words. “And Bloodstone.”
Maybe if I embrace everything I was unwilling to accept before, the high gods will favor me and help me out of this predicament. I just need to journey to the pool of Zalhandara. Then, I’ll be able to think again, and maybe, I can even plan my next step.
“Interesting.” Torchlight slashes across Hector’s face as he leans forward and dips his head toward me. “Show me your serpent mark.”
I do as he requested, raising my sleeve enough for him to see the serpent on the inside of my wrist. For several breaths, neither of us speaks as he stares at the mark. Then, he shifts back and folds his arms again.
“What do you want from me?” he asks, his tone as brittle as clay baking in the sun.
“I need help to search for Everly and provisions for traveling.”
“Everly isn’t lost. Cenric escorted her to her friend’s cottage a short while ago.”
“The Everly I know is.”
“The Everly youknow?” Hector’s upper lip curls into a sneer. “Are you jesting with me? Attempting to take my coin?”
“No.” Desperation grips me and echoes in my tone as I continue. “Everly used her time traveling magic to bring me here, but when I arrived, I couldn’t find her.”
“Her magic?” Cenric shakes his head and stands. “Don’t waste any more time with this woman, Gabriel. She has obviously been in the sun too long.” With those words, the barbarian walks away, leaving me alone with Hector.
“Surely, you believe me,” I say, needing him to trust me. “Magic has returned to your people, and now I need your help.”
Hector takes another lengthy drink of ale before continuing. “You expect me to believe this fantasy you’re weaving? Why would I? You could be anyone. That mark on your wrist may not even be real.”
Boldly, I hold my arm out. “Touch me. You will see that it is real. ThatIam real.” His gaze lowers as I yank back my sleeve. “You know the prophecy. You know what I am to you.”
Anticipation thrums through me as he leans closer and skims my serpent mark with his thumb. I sigh at that feeling, that light stroking of his skin against mine. That hint of our connection. That tiny sliver that’s not enough, but I cannot beg for more.
Well, I could beg…
As quickly as he touched me, Hector pulls away again and folds his arms. “Show me your binding tattoo.”
“My tattoo?” I straighten my sleeve and relish the heat his touch left behind.
“Yes. If I know what you are to me, show me evidence.”
I swallow and pull up my left sleeve enough for him to see the tattoo he chose for us.
His face betrays no emotion as he stares for a moment, his gaze intense and unwavering, before he looks away.
“You ordered Alf to carve it into my skin the day we wed.”
Hector doesn’t respond.
“And now…” Inwardly, I draw from every ounce of boldness I possess and continue. “And now I need…”
Olah, help me.
Why is it so difficult to tell him the truth?
