Page 85 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
The sudden desire in that thought chased my mirth away, heating my traitorous cheeks as I turned quickly back to the table.
‘That tallet shouldn’t have been able to speak.’ I swallowed uneasily at all the foolish mistakes I was making. ‘Have you seen that before?’
There was a sudden pensive nature to his face as he considered the papers before us. He was so close I could see the fragments of light grey trying to purge that darkness from his eyes, the wickedness of the scar down his cheek.
‘Close to a seal during the war.’
‘There are no seals in the south.’ I frowned, turning to him, ignoring the sting of fear in my chest.
Seals were the ancient points where Kysillians had eradicated the darkness. Most were buried by now, their locations lost to record thanks to one of the many mortal kings’ plundering. I didn’t know anyone who had seen an ancient seal and lived to tell the tale. Hadn’t even heard of one apart from in my father’s bedtime tales.
‘You didn’t tell me you saw Thean at the village.’ There was a quietness to his words as he changed the subject. A guarded nature to his expression. His attention moved to my face, focusing on my lips once more. Waiting for a lie.
‘I didn’t know who they were. What they were. They presented themselves differently. I thought they were looking for you.’
He huffed out an unamused laugh as he moved around the table, putting distance between us. ‘I’m sure Thean enjoyed that.’
A chill in the air penetrated the thinness of my training attire with his absence. There was something in the pensive nature of him, a heaviness to his shoulders, troubled deeply by his own thoughts.
‘A voyav isn’t good company to keep,’ I warned. ‘Who is Thean Page?’
‘The less you know about the voyav, the better.’ He ran a hand through his messy dark hair, letting it fall back across his brow.
‘Yes, because naivety always works out well in the end,’ I argued, watching his expression shut down, a cold mask of indifference slipping into place. The mask of a lord who somehow knew Montagor on unfriendly terms and kept cursed voyavs as acquaintances. Who was he?
I could see the lies working behind his eyes, trying to find a way to spin it. Saving him the effort, I moved from the table with a huff of annoyance, striding back towards the dark shelves that led to the portal.
‘Kat.’ He caught my wrist, but the barest contact made me recoil with a surprised cry. The burns I’d forgotten stung in response to the barest hint of his magic. My wrist clutched tightly to my chest, I faced him once more.
A tension came over him as he stood deathly still, the fire in the hearth dimming.
He reached out gently for my wrist. A part of me didn’t want him to see the weakness on my flesh, didn’t want his pity, but I let him take it anyway, revealing the horrid raised pink flesh beneath the sleeve of my tunic.
‘Montagor’s rings.’ The words left his lips, but they didn’t sound right. They didn’t sound like him.
‘It’ll fade,’ I whispered, not knowing why it filled me with embarrassment.
His eyes closed tightly, as he dragged in a deep, almost painful breath, his hold on me tightening ever so slightly. As if searching for some sort of restraint.
‘He shouldn’t have come anywhere near you.’ The deep regret pressed between those words reminded me of the urgency in his voice when he’d come to find me.
Forgive me.The words he’d left for me.
‘You wanted to see me.’ My breath wasn’t quite steady as the words left me.
‘I was fully prepared to grovel at your feet.’ His thumb dragged over the unhurt skin of my hand. Across my knuckles, following those faint training scars.
‘Alma wasn’t …’
‘I’d take the disembowelment.’ He grimaced, eyes lifting to my own before drifting to the side of my face where it ached at my temple. ‘I’m sorry, Kat.’
I felt that strange bite of his magic, almost as if brushing back my hair to see better. I watched as those grey eyes darkened to black, as if ink had been spilt across a page with the turmoil of his emotions.
‘I know,’ I whispered, seeing a protective softness take over his features, the slight drop of his shoulders with relief. I might not have known all his secrets, but I knew regret too well to distrust him.
In the quiet, with only the crackling hearth, I looked down again at those welts on my skin. Evidence of all the cruelty in this world. Pain those fey had felt too.
‘I was angry with Master Hale.’ I sighed, hating the burning sting in my eyes. ‘Angry at all the lies I allowed myself to believe.’
