Page 59 of Magic of the Damned

His face had been pitiless, totally lacking any mercy or remorse.

“They were trying to kill me and you. I defended us. What should I have done—ask them not to do it?” His mocking annoyed me. “Or do you have a death wish, Luna?” he tacked on, derision heavy in his voice.

He was right. But it still felt wrong. Like there should have been an alternative.

“People are killed all the time in your world. Does it bother you?”

I nodded. “But the difference is, I’m not there or hanging out with the murderers.”

He nodded slowly as he regarded me. I wondered if he could mute the searing intensity of his gaze.

“The prisoners aren’t responsible for their escape,” he said, seeming to be in need of a subject change. “Our speculations were wrong about them being involved. If they were, you wouldn’t be with me. If they knew you were the only person keeping them out of the Perils, they would have found a way to you. They’re lying low, because they need to figure out things just like I do,” he speculated.

This wasn’t the time to point out there wasn’t really a “we” in this when it came to finding out the truth about the prisoners’ involvement. Whereas he seemed to desperately need the why of the situation, I was firmly in camp how. How do I untangle myself from this situation?

His finger glided over the light shadow of a beard as he was drawn into further speculation. My interest remained piqued by Rei’s apparent hope that he encountered Roman. More specifically, Roman’s claws.

“What effect do Roman’s claws have on you?”

He diverted his eyes from me, moving his attention to the wall behind me as he deliberated.

“His claws are poisonous,” he eventually said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Even to us. Weakens us and mutes our magic.”

“For how long?”

“Until it’s out of our system. The last time, it was about thirty-six hours. I was unable to return home, use my magic, or fight at my normal level,” he admitted. There was a reluctance to his confession and a hitch in his voice. Was he embarrassed that he’d been clawed, or that he had vulnerabilities? It humanized him and dampened his intensity. I closed the distance between us.

My voice was low and entreating as I continued the questioning, learning more about his world. If I was forced to live in it, I wanted to know everything about it. Whatever my expression revealed to him, it caused him to relax.

“Dark Casters’ magic can affect us, even with my immunity to witches’ magic.” He gave me a knowing smirk. “But that’s information you already know.”

Well, I upheld my promise. I hadn’t revealed that I knew the information. I wondered if Nailah had confessed. Based on the self-satisfied look on his face, he was speculating and I had confirmed it.

“Go on,” I urged.

“Their spells I can break, but their magic can be used against me.”

“Some witch magic as well.”

He nodded. “Atmospheric and some elemental. If it rains, it rains on me as well. Snow, I get chilled. And if there’s a cyclone, I can be swept into it like anyone else.”

His eyes narrowed on me, searching my face. “What are you thinking, Luna?” He might not have added the “Little” to it verbally, but the taunting gleam in his eyes had.

I had a speech about how they arrived at the average and pointing out that for five-six to be the average, there had to be people significantly shorter and that there were scores of people shorter than I was. Emoni, at close to five-eleven, would just look at me with a combination of amusement and a trace of mockery, urging me on. “That’s right,” “You tell them,” “I’m with her and the Lollipop Guild.” On the opposite end of the height spectrum, Emoni didn’t seem bothered when people commented on her height.

“I thought you said I wore my thoughts on my face. You tell me.”

“I’d like to hear it from you.”

“These reveals make you seem—approachable. Real,” I admitted.

“Real?”

“Normal. Like other people.” These were all wrong descriptions. So. Very. Wrong. But telling him that he seemed less of a larger-than-life figure, insurmountable presence, or ethereal force, although true, seemed hyperbolic.

“It shows the many dimensions you have. Like everyone else.”

Self-assurance bloomed over his features, in the fire that banked in his eyes, his supple lips, and carved features. “But I’m not like everyone else.”

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