Page 49 of The Master and the Marionette

“We’d like ya to stay longer… but I’m afraid that isn’t in the cards, is it?” Garanthian speaks up, staring directly at Kane now. Those winter hazel eyes carrying a hidden message.

Kane nods. “We have to keep moving.”

“We have three gifts for you before ya go,” Garanthian says, waving a hand over his shoulder to a younger man, around my age, over to us. He’s tall and lean, with auburn hair and bronze skin.

The young man refills Garanthian’s glass of milk.

“Not milk! Is ya little head filled with cock hairs? Get me what I asked of ya before they sat down!” His large hand lightly smacks the young man on the back of the head.

He snickers as he pulls a satchel out from behind his back. “Specify next time, old man!”

Cock hairs. Nice.

Garanthian removes a pair of leather gloves and a belt, tossing them on the table for us to examine.

“You fight yet, Skylenna?” he asks me, nudging the gloves closer to my plate.

I shake my head. “That’s his job.” I jerk my chin to Kane.

Garanthian exchanges a look with Asena, then back at me. “If ya ever decide to start… these are called demon’s teeth.”

I lift one of the brown leather gloves to get a closer look. The knuckles are lined with sharp spikes. Tiny metal thorns. I nearly prick myself as I run a thumb over its point.

“If he can teach ya to get one good strike on your opponent, these will undoubtedly ensure ya won’t have to fight for long.”

I gulp. Because one punch and I could rip out the skin on their cheek.

“But I’m a wom—” I stop before I can finish, because Asena raises her eyebrows. A stare of wisdom and power I’ve never seen before. She lifts her chin, unblinking.

“Don’t ever finish that sentence out loud or in ya head again, dashna.” Her voice is smooth yet dominating. “Do ya think because I am a woman, I can’t easily overpower a man?”

I blink. Unsure how to answer.

“I’d trust her to lead in battle over my strongest men.” Garanthian nods.

“Women are dragons,” Asena says. “One day, ya will breathe fire too.”

I release the breath I’ve been holding. “Thank you.”

“And for you.” Garanthian points to the belt. “It’s an executioner’s belt. Double straps go over ya chest, holding poisons, crystal explosives, and throwing daggers.”

Kane studies the pockets and small blades holstered in the straps that are meant to tighten across his chest, shoulders, and back.

I wait for him to say thank you. Or nod his approval. But the silence stretches across the narrow table. My head turns to face him, expecting to make eye contact, yet his stare is empty.

Glazed.

Vacant.

He’s switching again. But why? There is no danger?

He blinks several times, focusing on the leather straps, then flicks his gaze to me.

“I’d be lying if I say I’m not going to enjoy using these,” the alter says.

He’s sitting and not standing, so I’m finding it difficult to determine who we’re in the presence of based on body language.

Garanthian shifts in his seat, lifting his chin. “And who am I speaking with now?”

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