Page 102 of Crown of Ashes and Desire

I blinked, momentarily stunned by her audacity. Children typically fled from me, sensing the predator beneath the human veneer. This one stood her ground, hands on hips, chin tilted defiantly. I was instantly annoyed.

Something inexplicable tugged at me—a strange sense of connection I couldn't explain or justify. My shadows stirred restlessly beneath my skin, reaching toward her of their own accord when I forced them back.

Before I could formulate a response, a burly merchant lunged from his stall, meaty hand clamping around the girl's arm with bruising force.

"Caught you at last, you sneaky thief!" he snarled, and gave her a rough shake. A few small fruits tumbled from her pockets, confirming his accusation. "Time to teach you a lesson with the belt."

The child didn't cry out, didn't beg. She simply stared at the man with the same defiant dignity she'd shown me, though fear flickered behind the brave facade.

"Take your hands off her," I said quietly, the temperature around us dropping several degrees, releasing my shadows that flowed resembling midnight ink from my skin, "or I will orchestrate the symphony of your screams, conducting each note of agony while I extract your bones one by one, petals torn from a dying flower."

The merchant looked up, perhaps truly seeing me for the first time. Whatever he found in my eyes sent him blanching, his grip loosening instinctively.

"She's a thief," he protested weakly. "Been targeting my stall for weeks."

"Consider her off-limits," I replied, and allowed just enough shadow to seep into my voice that his knees trembled. "Leave."

He released the girl as if my shadows burned him, backing away with the universal body language of prey recognizing predator. "Keep the mongrel then," he muttered, and retreated to his stall. "Not worth the trouble."

I turned to the child, expecting gratitude or at least fear now that she'd seen a glimpse of my true nature.

Instead, she regarded me critically, head tilted to one side. "You were nicer when you were sleeping," she informed me matter-of-factly.

I stared at her, caught completely off guard for the second time in as many minutes. "What?" I asked. I noticed how her eyes caught the light in a way that reminded me of someone.

"When you were asleep," she clarified, as if I were particularly slow. "Not so growly. Your shadows were softer, too."

My shadows, dark serpents beneath my skin, which I'd been carefully suppressing, stirred with interest at her words. How did this child know about my shadows? How had she seen me sleeping?

"Who are you?" I demanded, and crouched to her level despite the protest of my wounds.

She seemed to consider the question carefully before answering. "Everyone calls me Little Light," she said, her fingers fidgeting in a gesture that seemed strangely familiar.

"That's not a name," I pointed out, irritation growing at her evasiveness.

"It's what they call me." She shrugged, unconcerned with my disapproval. "What do they call you?"

"I've asked you a question first," I replied reflexively.

She rolled her eyes with theatrical exaggeration. "Then I guess we both got secrets."

"Where are your parents?" I tried instead, and looked around for whoever might be responsible for this insufferable child.

Her expression changed, a mixture of imagination and secrecy crossing her features. "My mama's busy with plants and light magic," she said, and scuffed her toe in the dirt.

Then she leaned closer, as if sharing a great secret. "But my daddy dances with shadows! Mama says he has two souls—one in dark places and one in light places. That's why I can do both! But he can only be in one place at a time, so right now he must be with the shadows."

She nodded with absolute conviction, then added: "I'm gonna meet him someday when he comes to the light side!"

I stared at her, momentarily speechless. "A shadow dancer with two souls," I repeated sarcastically. "How convenient. Next you'll tell me he rides on the dragon at night and brings you star candy."

Instead of being offended, she brightened. "Does your daddy bring you star candy?"

Something in her innocent question twisted uncomfortably in my chest. I wondered why I was even bothering interacting with her. "My father doesn't bring gifts," I said. "Only demands and disappointments."

She studied me with surprising seriousness for one so young. "That's sad. Everybody should get presents sometimes."

Before I could respond to this simplistic worldview, she darted forward, placing something in my hand. I glanced down to find a small, perfectly ripe peach—obviously stolen from the merchant she'd been targeting.

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