Page 63 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
Emry’s eyes blazed ethereal white for the barest moment, a word I couldn’t hear leaving his lips, and then the body of that cursed creature crumbled in on itself to become nothing but dust between us.
Unmade by him.
I lowered the blade, that horrid bitter dust coatind my lips as I panted for breath. Looking down at the sword in my grasp, as it shone in muted sunlight. Another piece of my chaotically dangerous magic and the legacy of my blood. Something the dark should never know, and I’d given it away foolishly.
Kyvor Mor.
‘Kat.’ Emrys took hold of my arm, turning me harshly towards him. Expression stony as his now dark eyes ran over every inch of my face. No traces of that strange magic.
‘An anthurx bite doesn’t possess the power to summon a tallet,’ I whispered, watching the dust of the creature catch on the breeze over his shoulder.
‘A tharox does,’ he replied carefully, that tension still not leaving him, displeasure pressing his lips together as he took in the tears in my clothing.
‘They haven’t been seen since the second age of the fey rulings.’ I frowned. ‘He shouldn’t have died like that.’
Carefully, Emrys pressed two fingers under my chin. There was an icy chill from the remnants of his magic that made my breath catch, mud flecks in his hair and tension in his jaw.
‘You have a scratch on your cheek.’ His thumb ran gently over the edge of my jaw. There was a stillness to him.
‘I’ll survive,’ I whispered unsteadily. ‘Why does this feel worse than we could have anticipated?’
‘Because you’re too clever to fool.’ He considered me for a long moment, lips parting as if he wished to say more, before a strange expression crossed his face. His eyes dipping to my hand where it hung at my side.
He captured it gently, turning it over to see the slice from the glass. The blood that the tallet had tasted. His eyes appeared wholly black again in a moment.
A whoosh came from above, breaking us apart before the wrywing made impact with the earth, its whole body trembling as its wings snapped shut.
‘Bloody saints !’ William cried, as the earth trembled with the force of the landing, making him stumble and land on his backside in the long grass. The roots he’d summoned were withering and slipping back beneath the earth like serpents.
‘Alma.’ Her name left my mouth in a breath of relief, only to be twisted into tight-chested fear as I rushed for her, seeing her begin to morph and change in a painful twisting of flesh and bone.
The sharpness of her naked spine was stark as she remained on all fours, retching. Her clawed fingers digging into the soft earth as she choked for breath. The long grass hiding most of her.
Her dark hair in disarray, curls stuck to her temples and skin glistening with sweat as she dragged in deep uneven breaths.
‘Alma?’ I dropped to my knees at her side, my sword – now nothing more than a hilt again – tumbling across the grass as I took hold of her arms. Watching with bated breath as her head came up, eyes luminous but mortal, cheeks rosy with exertion, the impression of dark scales still just under the skin’s surface, but her wobbly, exhausted smile of relief stood out most of all.
‘I think you fixed me again,’ she winced. I threw my arms around her as a relieved sob crawled up my throat.
‘No. You fixed yourself,’ I whispered into her hair, trying my best not to crush her as she held on. Thankful to whichever ancestors were watching over us as I took in the carnage before us, the unturned earth slowly seeping back into place under William’s influence, the large gouges from her claws growing new grass.
‘You changed form !’ I laughed, unable to help my excitement.
‘Let’s not do it again for a while.’ She grimaced. ‘I’m nothing if not efficient at cleaning up your messes.’
‘I should be taking care of you,’ I argued, pressing my hand against her chilled forehead.
‘Please don’t. I’ll be dead by the end of the week,’ she quipped, sounding annoyed by the mere suggestion as she tried to sag weakly back towards the ground as if content to sleep there curled up like a stoat. ‘Where are my chocolates?’
I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my lips as I held her even tighter.
William came to a skidding stop before me, his gaze darting between us in confusion. Of course, he’d only seen Alma as a cat or a mouse, not a mythical beast. His cheeks flared bright red when he came to his senses, and pulled his long work coat from his shoulders, crouching to drape it over her.
‘Hello, Alma,’ he greeted a bit sheepishly, the wind playing in his copper hair.
‘Hello, William,’ she replied, forcing her tired limbs into the sleeves of his coat, and I was thankful she was petite enough for it to cover everything.
‘Are you all right, William?’ I asked, concerned about his dishevelment and damp brow; the streak of mud across his cheek and the red welt underneath.
