Page 132 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

“Ah,” I smirked, “I feel as though someone awful smart taught you that.”

“Perhaps,” he said, giving me a quick sideways glance.

Orym appeared at the door, wearing the same many layers of dark green fabric as Samkiel.

“How did you find even worse clothes than what they gave us at the prison?” Samkiel asked.

Orym walked in, carrying a small, smooth device, his lips twitching. “I monitored the area when we arrived to determine what we needed to blend in as much as possible. The building where you’ll be is far closer to the rowdy part of town. Samkiel and I will be outside, pretending to be loitering. That way, you can tell us what’s happening inside.”

I placed my hands on my hips. “And how am I going to do that? Scream really loud?”

Orym rolled his eyes. “No, with this.”

He opened the smooth device and showed us what looked like beige marbles.

“What’s that?”

“A way to communicate with each other without the screaming. It attaches to the ear canal, and we can communicate from miles away.”

“So, like an earpiece?”

Orym looked confused, but Samkiel nodded in agreement.

“It’s from her world.”

“Ah,” was all Orym said.

“Okay.” I clapped my hands. “I get to wear the cool earpiece thing so you guys can talk to me.”

Orym lifted the plug toward his ear, placing it and turning it on. Samkiel and I watched and then fitted ours. A scratchy tickle started deep in my ear, and my eyes widened as I looked at Orym.

“Orym,” I said slowly. “Did my earpiece just move?”

He cast a glance at Samkiel, who tried to feign innocence. “It’s just settling. It’s not alive or anything.”

I knew he was lying, knew Samkiel probably told him not to tell me because my safety was more important than my irrational fear of bugs, but I swore to every dead god if it moved again, they were shit out of luck.

“Okay, I am going to ignore that so I don’t ruin this mission.” I tapped my ear. “How does it work?” I asked and then heard my voice echo. I smiled. “Oh, that’s fucking cool.”

“Now that worry line across your forehead can rest,” Orym said, patting Samkiel’s shoulder.

Samkiel rubbed at his head. “I do not have a worry line.”

I snickered. “I told him of that wrinkle, too.”

Samkiel glared at both of us.

“SAMI, YOU WERE WORRIED ABOUT NOTHING. I FEEL SO OVERDRESSED here,” I said from behind my drink. “I’m glad you are outside. I’ve seen eight areolas, but on the plus side, no one is really looking at me.”

“You can come outside, and I can show you what the dress does for me.”

I nearly spit out the mouthful of my drink. I covered my mouth with my hand, turning from the crowd.

Orym groaned through the earpiece. “Can you two please not subject me to this today? I’m still burning my eyes out from the other day.”

I snorted and pretended to look at the assortment of small, sweet cakes. It was true. He had caught us. Samkiel and I had decided to wander off for a training session that turned into me pressed against a tree again. “I’m sorry, but were you locked in a prison for weeks?”

“I was, but you don’t see me with my pants down every five seconds.”

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