Page 46 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“Let’s take this to a table,” I suggest.
Relief courses through her eyes, and she nods. I scan and locate a nearby group of people standing around a tall round table. Perfect. Three strides, and we’re there. I glare and part my lips, intending to growl them into submission, but am pleased when they scamper away first. But the fools leave a mess, and the surface area is lacking. I relinquish Willow’s hand for the opportunity to swipe every glass and plate to the floor. Onceevery crumb has gone, I gently lower the precious cargo but almost lose it all when the waiter appears and startles me.
“The drink, sir,” he squeaks and holds out a glass filled with a vibrant cherry liquid.
“Oh, you’re too kind.” Willow grins at him, flashing her tiny fangs.
He blushes again and bows. Hm. Prompt and appropriately subservient toward our Shadow. And I don’t wish to pluck out his eyes with my teeth.
“Your name?” I demand.
“Ah . . . um. My name, sir?”
“Yes.”
Willow’s smile is kind as he fidgets and flusters. It makes me realize I am frowning, so I relax my jaw and brows. I do something with my lips and cheeks that could be considered a smile. It’s nowhere near as approachable as hers, but at least it’s not a death stare.
“It’s okay,” she says. “You can tell Bodin. He won’t bite. Much.”
She winks at me, pops another morsel into her mouth, and something fizzes in the region of my lower belly. Now I’m frowning again. Fuck.
The boy’s eyes widen, and she quickly explains, “He bites me. Don’t worry, I meantme.”
“Your name, mortal?” I remind.
“Colin, sir.” He bows again. “Recruit rank. I woke up during the last Interlude, sir.”
I give the male a once-over. Not much to look at. Scrawny. Hardly any muscle on his bones. No charms. I sniff in his direction. Younger than I first thought.
“Are you a Never?” I ask. “Or not industrious enough to gain yourself a charm by now?”
Willow’s next morsel pauses halfway to her mouth. Her eyes narrow on me as if I’ve said something displeasing.
“I, um . . . I guess I’m what they call a Never,” he says, voice pitched high as though it’s a question. “I can’t use charms.”
“Then why are you here? Everyone knows this sordid open-air brothel is where the mortals curry favor with Radiants in turn for charms.”
“I want the coin, sir. Cait pays me well, and I need every advantage I can get for the trials.”
Unfortunately for him, she will soon leave to hunt for our enchanted mirror, closing this establishment down.
“Are you buying weapons?” Willow asks him, now fully invested in the conversation. He nods, and she adds, “What House are you with?”
“House of Embers,” he grumbles, his shoulders sinking.
“Figures,” she snorts. “How old are you, Colin? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s fine. I turned sixteen last month. I think.” He scratches his head. “It’s hard to know the exact date these days.”
“You’re only a baby,” Willow gasps, dismayed.
“No, I’m not.” He scowls but quickly dips his head. “I just hit puberty late.”
“How many exhibitors are under eighteen?” she asks, almost to herself.
“A few of us, I suppose,” he answers. “At least ten in the House of Embers. We have the biggest group of youngies.” He snorts at himself. “That’s what I call us. Cos we’re young. Get it?”
It’s the oddest thing. Willow smiles, yet her eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and she seems to have trouble answering. So I fill the silence for her. This banter is becoming long-winded, and I have a reason for initiating conversation with the youth.
