Soren’s annoyed laugh is almost like a threat. “I felt the need to let it hit me, Ritter. Seems it has set into motion the perfect waves that need to wash over us. I’m unafraid of the damage, unlike you, who seems to be worried about pissing off his precious Blackwell. You could always try sucking his cock if you’re that worried.”
Dad’s entire posture stiffens, and I swear his hand pulls back—even for a fraction of a moment—as if he might reach for his blade.
“No. We arenotdoing this right now,” I interject, taking a step forward as if my being between them might change something. Even if Soren’s pallor is off, I still have no doubt that someone fighting him will be punishing up until his last breath. “We need to have a plan for whatever the hells is happening here, not fight. Blackwell, Order of Ash… I don’t even honestly know if Iknowwhat’s happening?—”
I pause when I’m about to mention that my life is at risk, and thatthatis the priority. It’s not even because I’m concerned about my beating heart, but rather…
I can get revenge for my mom. For what happened to me.
But my awareness of the selfishness in such a statement is almost instantaneous. I’d be asking for them to give up everything just to defend me. Especially Soren. He owes menothing,which means I can’t ask him to riskeverything,not with his sister.
What ofhisrevenge?
I need to let it go—all of it. If I die at their hands, it means my mother's death was for nothing. I need out of here, if I am to stay a step ahead. That’s my priority.
Emotional ice settles over my heart, freezing this moment of time like it’s done countless times before to help me survive. I can drop everything here and follow my father across the Black Sea—he’s the only one who has any reason tooweme. I don’t have to forgive him, but it would prevent this cunt named Misery from touching me, and maybe I could find these fire worshippers and gut every one of them.
And it would get the putrid breath of death out of everyone’s shadow that seems to be haunting mine.
“Are you alright, Jane?” Dad asks.
Snapping my gaze up, I breathe sharply to steady myself. “I have a lot to process,” I say with a flat tone. “Are we in danger? Sounds like everyone else is, especially if they’re associated with me. Should I leave now? Is there a ship that can take me within the day?”
My father eyes me with a scrutiny that’s almost familiar. “We need to make a move soon, aye. Ships across the Black Sea are rare, but we can sail to other lands as we wait for them,” Dad calmly answers. “And if Soren is worthanything,he’ll make sure to prevent you from running off if you’re worried that you’ll get anyone killed and would rather turn yourself over—” he holds a hand up when I’m about to defend myself “—you remained in Coalfell because of your fear of others getting hurt. You told me, or Ern, so many times that you made an oath to stay, and afew times let it slip it was to a siren. It’s clear what guided your decision. While admirable, this is a very different encounter. Misery getting a hold of you will cascade a dark era over us all until any and all prosperity is forgotten. Hecannotreturn to power. And for whatever reason, he’s completely honed in onyou. Which means you’re not going anywhere without us knowing.”
My lips press together as I don’t have a single reply. The ease of shutting up tells me I’m far from complying—I just want this conversation to end so I can find my own way out.
I also need fresh air, which I can’t get stuck down here.
I don’t require Soren’s powers to know that the behemoth’s gaze is burning into my back, but I can’t look at him. My world, just as swiftly as the blade that struck Mom’s heart, is changed within this entire conversation.
The familiar desire to build my walls returns, telling me that if it comes down to it, Soren can become a man of my imagination, living in a place I’ll visit when I’m lonely.
I can die getting the revenge I never knew I needed to seek.
Can Soren feel that at all?
A knock in the pattern of three raps fills the silence, and I glance over my shoulder with Soren in my peripheral. The two Zenith in the room stiffen in ways that only experienced, confident men do; nothing akin to jumping to their feet or looking frightened. No. Instead, I swear I can see them both holding their breath and waiting, in case a strike might come from somewhere else.
When Soren finally lifts his gaze to see who is opening the door, Dad does something… different.
My jaw drops as his features completely change. His nose, mouth, eyes, and even ears all shift like sand that’s being rearranged. His hair changes from brown to blonde, his eyes now a stark green. His long nose becomes short and chunky, hisupper lip much larger than the bottom. Even the scar fades, his tattoos gone.
My lips part, so many pieces of my childhood swirling together as I can’t stop my mind from piecing it together.
He really is a skin shifter, isn’t he?
Soren’s posture remains strong, yet his eyes reveal how wound up he’s becoming. Especially when Rorge enters. “Sir, we’ve got Evan at the door,” he says, clearing his throat.
I don’t know who or what Evan is, or why it makes my father stand as if he’s going to leave.
“I’ll be out, Rorge,” Dad answers, barely moving to look my way as our eyes connect. “Rorge or Donna will be tending to you and Soren while everything gets set into motion. I understand you trust that brute right now, Jane, so I’ll permit him to stay while you process everything in here. If you need anything, Rorge is outside the door.”
As my father walks by me, I reach out without thought to request something, pausing just before I touch him; I can’t commit to that. He doesn’t flinch, or move away, and instead looks at my hand and then at me, and I retract my attempt to touch him.
It’s honestly easier talking to him when he’s not wearinghisface.
“I need supplies to help Soren. That’s why I was at the apothecary.”
