Page 14 of Lana Pecherczyk
Caw caw.
His gaze snapped up to the crows lining the canopies across the way. Each locked their razor-sharp focus on the jewels adorning the pretty female’s body. Deep in conversation with a vendor, she remained oblivious to their predatory interest.
Shewas the rare treasure a small crow army had gathered to steal.
A stirring within him gave birth to a dark, territorial urge. He flickedPeacemakeron his belt, launching an armada of light shards at the crows, warning them of his presence.
A clatter of cawing, scrambling, and feathers fluttering answered his warning. Some surrendered their hunt, while others merely hopped to new positions, waiting for an opportunity. A change of heart.
It wouldn’t happen.
Wait.
What the fuck was he doing? He shouldn’t be here stalking treasure, no matter how viscerally he’d reacted to it. He had the customary gifts for his family. He should visit the palace to check his wings so he and Ash could join the pilgrimage to the Great Murder.
Colorful dots of light swam over his face, moving as she moved.
Fuck it.
A short delay wouldn’t hurt.
He only needed to wait for the sun’s warmth to fade for the appeal to wear off. He casually leaned against a nearby stall, folded his arms, and returned his curious gaze to her hair. Her damp, tangled hair.
Unusual.
She was barefoot, too.
The dress sparkled, yes, but it hung in tatters. Goosebumps pebbled her olive skin as she swayed slightly. But what was that dress made of? Not glass or gems, surely. Or metal, either. They’d be too heavy to cling to her curves like that, which left … plastic.
Air whooshed from River’s lungs.
Was she an old-worlder?
The Well wants what it wants.
His eye twitched. Panic flared beneath his skin.
Run.
Fly.
His traitorous feet refused to budge. His broken wings wouldn’t carry him far. And something in her body language sent alarm skating down his spine.
River glanced between the grimy vendor and the woman as she collected her bejeweled brick, clutching it as if it wereher last possession. She turned to leave and slammed into a stocky satyr blocking her exit, his shoulders broad from years of hauling crates.
The remaining crows cawed angrily, warning the new horned threat away from their prize. Every instinct screamed for River to walk away. Let this local murder claim her. She was surely an old-worlder whose heart would inevitably drag him into suffering.
Yet somehow, he inched closer.
“I warned you, didn’t I?” The vendor sneered at the human. “Told you they’re everywhere.”
The sparkling woman turned, and a riot of rainbow starlight exploded across River’s face. He shielded his eyes, momentarily blinded and stunned by the surge of euphoria it wrought.
“You’re a Guardian?” Her voice quivered.
River froze. Had she noticed him? But as he lowered his hand, he realized she addressed the stocky satyr.
“Give me your contraband, lady,” the impostor growled, gesturing at her jeweled brick. At rings on her finger. “Or you’re dead.”
