Page 32 of In Death's Hands
I guess that’s fair. “Crown?” I ask again, determined to learn as much as he’ll let me.
“We are set up in four Crowns. Factions, if you will. Roots, Welkin, Blue Depths and Unseen.”
I blink a few times. “Can I assume you belong to the Unseen Crown?”
“Yes.” His jaw is so tight I could break a rock against it. Shatter my lips on its jagged edge. There would be pain, but doesn’t everything in life need balance? Pain and pleasure could go hand in hand on a walk along his jaw.
I will my heart to settle. “And Turan?”
“Roots.”
“So you can also…”
“Fade?” I nod. “Yes, though in my Crown we do not turn back into roots and earthen matter, we simply become smoke and shadows. Like the life of the flame once it’s been snuffed out.”
I’m not sure what he’s talking about. I only saw Turan vanish into thin air. Maybe there are some technicalities to it. I’m quite confident I don’t have it in me to learn about them just now. Instead, I focus on my surroundings, on the noise taking so much space in my head.
“You are gods, who can… Fade.” The words taste foreign on my tongue. “And now we must go to… to this place you all woke up in.”
“Sort of,” he says, which makes me frown. “That is, if you agree to come with me.”
“What do you mean, sort of? And I already said I would go.”
“Yes, but I’m not sure you understand the situation.”
“Don’t you condescend to me. I may not be a god, but I understand just how fucked up this whole thing is. I also understand that there is no way in hell—or whatever it is that actually exists—I’m staying behind when I can go with you and finallydosomething to figure out why my life is the way it is.”
His eyes go from confusion to worry to pity. And I donotwant his pity. I’m a survivor. That’s what this life made of me. I will keep on surviving and maybe put a stop to this whole damn mess.
“I only meant that Turan was right. This place is dangerous. Wrong in ways even we don’t comprehend. And you’ve been through a lot already.”
“And I’ll continue to go through a lot if we don’t figure out why these things are happening to me. Why the Novensiles are after me. Maybe we’ll even figure out why your boss decided to save me in the first place.”
Something akin to fire flashes in his eyes but is gone too quickly for me to be sure of what I saw. “We go together.”
I nod.
He walks up to me, and his sudden closeness brings so much heat that it forces my feet to take a step back. He stops abruptly, and I want to tell him it’s not what he thinks, but he refuses to meet my eyes. He slowly brings his hands up, wanting to show me he isn’t going to hurt me, but I already hurthimby stepping away.
I swallow once, trying to find the words to clear the tension suddenly weighing us down. A knife forms from shadows in hisleft hand and true fear ignites under my skin. My sharp breath finally draws his eyes to me, and he sheepishly puts the weapon away behind his back.
“I—I apologise. I only meant to offer you protection.”
I force my fear to scatter and let the truth shine. I see him, running a hand through his hair, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s blushing. But that must be a trick of the light because Death’s assistant doesn’t blush. I’m pretty sure.
I cock my head, trying to understand the last few seconds, hours, days. And come up empty. His eyes are stuck on my leg and I’m about to chastise him when my skin tingles. As I look down, I see shadows swarming my right thigh. I don’t have time to be scared because the shadows disperse as quickly as they appeared and in their stead is a sheath.
I look up questioningly to find him gulping and his eyes jumping to mine. He slowly brings back the knife, which is more of a dagger now that I observe it carefully, and offers it handle first. Understanding sparks, and I take the weapon, uncomfortable and curious all at once.
“I don’t like weapons.”
Nathan’s eyes darken and his face grows cold. He takes the last step separating us and grabs my chin, pushing every cell in my body into complete shock. “I don’t care who you have to kill, love. You survive.”
I swallow and will my heart to slow. His eyes lower to my lips, which part on a rushed exhale, and everything in me starts to overheat.
He starts, and in less time than it takes for me to blink, he’s a few steps away, hands firmly pushed into his pockets, looking anywhere but at my face.
Reeling myself in, I look at the dagger in my tight grip. IthoughtI didn’t like weapons.
