Page 47 of Shadows of Winter

As they walked down the tunnel, the sound of trickling water grew audible. Kaylina thought of the river as well as the canals that sliced through the city.

Two more Kar’ruk statues loomed, built into the sides of the tunnel. These were even larger than the first pair with extra arms she was fairly certain the belligerent people didn’t have.

When she and Vlerion walked between the statues, the eyes glowed red, and a hiss of vapor blew from the mouths.

Startled, Kaylina sprang closer to Vlerion and his sword. Her lantern bumped against him and tumbled from her fingers, hitting the floor with a clink. The flame went out.

The vapor expanded, clouding the air, and dimming Vlerion’s torch—their only remaining light. Kaylina caught herself gripping his arm and shifting behind him. Her free hand strayed to her sling, but what would she do? Hurl a round at a stone statue?

“These figures represent Kar’ruk Defenders, powerful minions that serve their god.” Vlerion showed no alarm, not even drawing his sword. He did arch his eyebrows at her grip, or maybe that she’d pressed close and half hidden behind him. His solid muscular form was reassuring, even if he was haughty and uptight.

“They serve their god by spitting steam into the air?” Admittedly, the glowing eyes concerned her more than the steam. She’d never seen such a thing. Until arriving at the cursed castle, her main experience with magic had been with edible altered plants that the bees foraged and that Grandma and Frayvar used in some of their recipes.

“They were built when the catacombs were and guard this entrance.” Vlerion’s torch hissed, the flame battling the mist in the air, bringing out the scent of the pitch mixture it burned. “They used to spit poison in the steam, a potent vapor that could kill humans as well as their own kind within a few minutes of exposure.”

There had been a good reason to hide behind Vlerion.

“They… don’t anymore?” Kaylina assumed he would have run if the steam was poisonous.

“Their reservoirs ran out long ago. There are other statues deeper in the catacombs that haven’t been depleted. The traps are designed to protect the sarcophagi in the lower levels. Those passageways are rarely disturbed, even by the criminals who use the catacombs to avoid the law.”

Kaylina made herself step back. “That’s good information to know.”

“Indeed.” Was that amusement in his eyes?

Better than warnings and dangerous glints, but it made her bristle.

“I wasn’t scared,” she caught herself saying. “Just startled.”

“Of course.”

She scowled at him.

Vlerion lifted a hand and touched her arm. “Were you easily scared, you would not have spent the last few nights in the castle.”

“That’s right.” Kaylina attempted to lower her hackles. Maybe she was being defensive without reason. She wasn’t even sure why his opinion mattered, though the light touch on her arm was appealing, his skin warm through the fabric of her blouse. She caught herself tempted to step closer again.

“I apologize for snipping at you upstairs.”

She was so surprised to hear the words—were aristocrats allowed to apologize to commoners?—that she didn’t know what to say.

“I was worried when Crenoch went missing, then disgruntled that he’d disobeyed my command.”

“You care about him.”

“More than he cares about me.” A rueful smile accompanied the words.

Kaylina didn’t know what to make of it. Did humans typically bond more closely to their taybarri mounts than vice versa?

The cloud of steam dissipated, and Vlerion squeezed her arm lightly before lowering his hand. Only then did she realize she had stepped closer to him, inexplicably drawn by his gaze. By him.

Silly. A few moments ago, she’d been questioning her decision to come down here with him.

Shaking her head, Kaylina picked up her lantern. It had gone out, but Vlerion lowered his torch so she could use his flame to relight it.

“How come you know so much about this place?” she asked him.

“Port Jirador is my home. I’ve lived in the area my whole life, and my family knows its history well.”

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