Page 15 of A Sword of Shadow and Deceit

Regis’ forehead pinches as he contemplates my answer. He’s wondering if he should press or not, I can tell. A part of me wonders if him asking a second time would be a good thing or not. I’ve never told anyone else but my dad about the things I can do. Ophelia already knew because the bad guys who killed my dad and brought me to her told her what they’d seen. What would happen if my new friend knew too?

“I see,” Regis says as he leans back against the wall.

I blink at him, surprised. “You’re not going to ask?”

He shakes his head. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “If Ophelia finds out, I’d be in trouble. I don’t want a whipping.”

“What if I told you anyway?” I ask. “You could always say I gave you the information without you asking.”

His eyes shoot to me, curiosity lingering in their depths as well as wariness. “If it’s something you’re not supposed to say, then you could get a whipping,” he warns me.

I chuckle. “That’s okay, I’ll heal fast.” That’s one of the things I can do well—heal from any sort of punishment.

He snorts. “No one heals from a whipping that fast.”

“I do.”

Regis’ amusement slowly dissolves as he looks back at me and his brows lower. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said.” I contemplate how to explain it to him, but it would likely be easier to show him than to say it in words. I shift my fingers over the hard ground and find a rock. “See, watch.”

I strike the rock against the wall, sharpening the already pointed side, and then bring it down hard on my forearm as he watches on in confusion. The edge of the rock stabs into my arm and he gasps, reaching out and grabbing ahold of me. Regis slaps the rock out of my hand and lifts my arm with a scowl.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.

“Look,” I say, pointing down at the skin I’ve broken open. It stings, but the smear of blood lessens almost immediately and his eyes widen as the skin knits itself back together. He rubs a thumb over where the cut was and finds smooth, unblemished skin. The remaining blood is all that tells of the wound that was once there.

“That’s not … possible,” he says. “If you heal this fast then that would mean that you’re a…”

Stunned eyes lift to meet mine. His hand grips onto my forearm tighter, to the point of pain. I flinch. “Hey, that hurts.” I pull away and he releases me almost as if he’s still surprised. I rub the area he’d been holding, soothing away the slight indentation of his grip as it dissipates.

“You’re a Mortal God.” It’s not a question, but I nod anyway.

As soon as I do, however, his expression darkens. Regis’ hand snaps out and circles my throat as he slams me up against the wall. “You fucking—”

“Hey!” One of the adults patrolling the hallway comes rushing over. “What are you doing? No fighting!”

Tears burn at the backs of my eyes. But Regis’ earlier words remind me. This place is not one for criers. I’m not a baby. I hold them back but still struggle against him. “Let go!”

He leans closer. “You’re a fucking Mortal God,” he hisses. “Why the fuck would something like you be here?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” I flop against him, my breathing coming faster the tighter he squeezes. “You’re hurting me.”

“Hey!” the adult calls again. A hand lands on Regis’ shoulder and pulls him back. He finally releases me. I cough out a breath and suck in another. “What the fuck did I say?” A hard hand cuffs Regis across his face and then again. Each strike following the man’s words, “No. Fucking. Fighting.”

Regis is unceremoniously tossed back against the wall and a finger is shoved in my face. “You too,” the man snaps before storming away.

I feel along my throat as Regis shakes his head and scoots several feet away from me.

“Why did you hurt me?” I manage to ask after several minutes have passed.

“Because you don’t belong here,” he replies. Regis pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his small arms around them. “You’re the reason my brother’s gone.”

“I’ve never met your brother, though.”

“Doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “You’re just like the God that took him.”

“No, I’m not.”

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