“Don’t bite Rogers again. He’s your path to safety… and if I don’t return, they’ll set you free, alright?” Phantom breathes harder, leaning into my hand. “Ride hard, my friend. Be safe.”
Rogers kicks Phantom’s hips, turning him around, and I step away when the horse seems to fight the command from a rider that’s not me. Rogers says, “I’m going to find a heavy merchantcarriage and attach him to it. See if that works to get him out unnoticed, if it doesn’t spook the horse. I’ll take care of him, sir.”
I nod once, watching my horse be ridden off, sentiment an odd feeling in my chest, which makes me look at the men that haven’t moved; not even to breathe.
So swiftly, they’re gone.
It won’t be in vain.
Basilisk moves among the crowd, reclaiming his long sword, the shiny metal glinting in the sunlight where it’s not marred with blood. He’s probably the only person, other than Cypress, toknowmy pain. My rage. A vulnerability that will either prove to be comforting, or a massive risk and fucking annoyance.
Approaching Basilisk, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
His jaw clenches before he looks at me, the lines around his eyes deeper than we last saw each other, but it only adds to his intense demeanor, really. “I’m here to protect my cat, if you must know.”
That’s so abstract of a comment that I completely ignore it, focusing instead on his aura. It’s like it was fifteen years ago, except maybe more focused. Less aggressive; no, the aggression still exists, but it’shoned.
It’s hard not to notice he has new scars, or that a few streaks in his dark hair are whitening. He’s still young enough to not look aged like Ritter, but just wisened.
“Are you going to be useful to me or not?” I ask, as there’s no time for familiarity.
“I saved your woman.” He casually flits his gaze to Jane. “Ah, don’t get angry. I don’t seduce the women of friends.”
The fucking womanizer; his difficult personality seems to make women pine for him all the more, even down to his harem back home.
What the man does in his own time has no effect on me, but when he refers to what ismine,I can’t help but feel defensive.I do my bestto focus on not giving away my emotions toward Jane—a much harder feat given Basilisk is as capable as I am to know thetruth. Some rumors even say he has a rotating harem wherever he lives, tucked deep within his private life.
“Don’t make this personal, Rasmus,” I warn, the use of his real name bringing out the callous side reserved for the rest of the world.
“Don’t fucking call me that, and it won’t be personal,” he retorts, his desire to stab me quite intense.
I smirk under the mask. “Then you trail at the end, and I’ll lead.”
“If you say so,Zenith.”
That man used to be immeasurably difficult to talk to, let alone be personal with. Yet once he allows someone in, he’s a different human being. I just don’t know which one we have following us, even if his energy feels like it’s here to help.
“We’ll speak later,” Basilisk remarks.
That’s enough for now.
It’s difficult to switch between people, but there are many relying on me and my decisions.Jane.The priority is always her.Approaching Jane is like nearing the failure I fear, my magic honed so much onto her that I can feel the miserable memories of losing her mother as it stirs up my emotions of losing Serena. Her father almost dying, in the same manner, has not just reopened a wound; it nearly crippled her.
Ihatenot being able to keep her safe from the world, even from heartache. “Let’s go, love. Are you too tired on your feet?”
She straightens up, the pet name softening her anxiety. “No, no. I can walk.”
I waste no more time, ushering everyone forward with Anya guiding me, Ritter changing his face once again to another man instead of Ern, although it’s not as extreme of a transformation.His hair darkens into raven locks, his eyes glinting with a brighter hue, and mostly, his nose and jaw alter their shape.
“We need to move, and make it fast,” I say, the pace of everyone increasing to a rhythm that hovers between walking and jogging.
A familiar metallic, salty taste fills the air, the dampness of the nearby ocean reassuring us that we’re at the edge of this merchant village, even if we can’t see the docks.
Michael aids Ritter as we move while Jane reaches into her small pouch to give her father a blood tonic. Michael seems to be fucking thrilled to aid an old legend, like this is one last step he needs to be fulfilled in life. Ritter drinks the tonic as we move. “I’m good,” he says to Michael.
Michael replies, “If you say so. We need to be swift now that a Zenith was killed.”
Jane’s hazel eyes widen with sudden realization as we move further to the rocky walls of the cliffs, and she dashes a glance back my way then at Michael, avoiding stepping on an apple that falls off a cart. “Well, the bastard shouldn’t have stabbed my dad.”
