“Was I unclear?” Darkness unfurls in his voice.
I shake my head, blinking rapidly, but a shadowy hint of great wings and. . .an eye manifests. A single slitted pupil opening an inch. Not on the physical plane, of course, but the same internal place where my avatar manifests. Unseen by anyone else.
A strangled sound leaves my throat. I’m traumatized, not crazy. This is the first time I’ve glimpsed another Fae with anavatar. I don’t even know what it is, and named the entity myself, but instinct over the years has crushed my throat whenever I’ve tried to ask.
Myavatar blinks into sight and hides behind my ankle, a kitten staring with wide, starry eyes at the. . .Dragon.
She isn’t at all frightened—she looks like she wants to play. Just like a damn cat.
“This is Aerinne of Faronne,” the lieutenant says, drawing my attention again. “A cur and a criminal responsible for?—”
I curl my upper lip, gums pulsing. “No one cares. Why are you still here?” Mystifying.
His brows draw down with the scowl he throws me before he starts to speak again.
“No, really,” I say. “That was not a rhetorical question. Get lost. Your betters are speaking.”
I can’t taunt the Prince and get away with it, but this male is open season and I have asurfeitof venom to spew.
. . .curious the Prince hasn’t contradicted me. I wait; let us see how he’ll respond.
The warrior snarls and steps toward me, lifting blade. I still, hands loose at my side. I’m not going to be the idiot to go for a weapon; I went cold long moments ago, my anger deadened, and the Prince twice gave the order to cease.
“This mongrel insurgentbitch?—”
The Prince pivots to face the warrior.
“—responsible for?—”
He tilts his head, the barest angle, expressionless.
My instincts have yet to fail me; I brace. One moment the fool is babbling, the next he collapses to his knees, choking.
It takes several, longer than necessary minutes for him to die. I am intimate with death and this one is drawn out.
The Prince watches, cruelty in his lack of emotion. He did not even lift a finger. He wrapped his hand around my throat with more energy than he used to kill this male.
I don’t know what to make of that.
“Why?” I ask after the male is dead. Because he dared interrupt you? Because he disobeyed a command? Somehow, I don’t think so. He insulted me. He lifted a blade in my direction. Only then did you move.
“You are Aerinne Kuthliele.”
I know what I am. I know what that means to me. What I wonder now, Prince, is what it means to you.
He starts to turn then stops. “Lady.”
“Prince.”
“I am here now.”
Those words should sound like a threat. A declaration. They sound like neither. I can’t quite pinpoint the inflection in his inflectionless voice.
While I’m trying to figure out what he means, he turns and walks away. He makes no gesture, but his people follow his abrupt departure, some pausing to bend down and shoulder the bodies of their fallen. I blink a blur of darkness out of my eyes, almost like a hint of a shadow trailing the Prince. . .I shake my head. Now Iamseeing things.
Soon, the field is clear of everyone except for Faronne.
I trudge to the nearest tree and lean against it, restlessness combating weariness. Whatever the Prince did. . .it gave me enough to function a few more hours. Myself and everyone else. Whatever power he’d expended, it must have beensignificant to force the Prince to leave precipitously—to conceal his weakness. My body isn’t suffering the effects of my wounds as it tries to heal. Interesting. I do owe him, and that stokes my hatred even more.
