Page 27 of Held

Then Briar blinked, and her smile was back.

“Anywho,” she said, smiling despite all the emotions curling through the cramped space between them. “After that depressing answer, it’s my turn. You mentioned your brother, Slate. You said he had a wife? I’ve never heard of a lady Skullstalker.”

“There are some,” Wick said. “But she is not a Skullstalker. Ruby was a mortal.”

Briar’s blond brows rose. “Was?”

“When they were first courting, yes. Now she is… more.”

“More,” Briar repeated. “Wait, a Skullstalker courted amortal? That’s ridiculous.”

Wick fought back a confusing tangle of hurt. He had thought the same thing when Slate had explained the situation. But they were very good together.

“What is she now?” Briar continued.

“A god,” Wick replied. “Or half a god. Mortals die too quickly. Slate would have been bereft if she had died in a mere two hundred years.”

“Two hundred—?” Briar cut off, shaking her head. “Alright. Did he do that to her? Make her a god?”

“Half-god,” he reminded her. “And no, she did it to herself. Later, Slate found a way to tie their lifespans together so she would not die before him.”

“How?”

Wick’s tail flicked underneath him, remembering that strange, misty cave he had walked into with Slate at his side. The scarred Skullstalker that had awaited them, his bone mask chipped with age.

“We met a sorcerer, of a sort. He lives in a far-off land. I have only met him once. He is the one who told me my blood frenzy cannot be cured.”

“Well,” Briar said quietly. “I hope he’s wrong.”

“I hope so too. But I doubt it. He is a Skullstalker. Your witch is just a mortal. Sheismortal, yes?”

“Marigold? As mortal as they come.”

Another crash of thunder echoed through the cave. Rain pelted Wick’s wings, leaving him glad that Skullstalkers were less sensitive to the elements.

Briar shivered.

Wick drew her closer. “Tell me about her.”

Briar looked up at him, his fire reflecting in her eyes. “Follow the game rules, Wick. It has to be a question.”

“What is she like?”

Briar smiled, small and real. “Marigold is… my friend. My only true friend, I guess. We met as children, back when we were still at the orphanage. Then we struck out on our own. Petty thievery, mostly. She got caught pickpocketing a powerful sorcerer. When he saw her magical abilities, he took her under his wing. Of course, I got tossed to the side of the road. No magical ability in me.”

“I am sorry,” Wick said.

Briar shrugged. “It turned out alright. She kept in touch, which was more than I expected. We even help each other out sometimes. What about you? How was the mighty Skullstalker’s childhood?”

“I barely remember,” Wick admitted. “I slept. I ate. I explored.”

“Alone?”

Wick nodded. Older Skullstalkers, like Slate, had memories of growing up together in a cave. Wick had no memories of togetherness. He hadn’t even known he was a Skullstalkeruntil he encountered one during a hunt. He had examined the Skullstalker’s corpse after the blood frenzy ended and found the body to be closer to his own than any other creature he had met.

Slate had found him not long after. Wick had wandered into his realm entirely by accident, and Slate had guided him out, suspicious all the while.

I am used to my younger siblings lunging for my throat the first chance they get, he had said.

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