Page 110 of Cursed Evermore
“La níyneria, your Grace,” Siril answered, using the same humble tone, his eyes brimming with pride and allegiance. Sirril then turned to me and gave me a curt nod. “Enjoy your morning, my Lady.”
“And you.” My voice sounded hoarse, thick with nerves.
As soon as Sirril walked away, Wolfe gave me his undivided attention.
I gripped the edge of my blanket tighter, wondering how he could be out here in this cold in next to nothing while I was absolutely freezing.
Reams of sweat were still rolling down his chest. And he was just staring at me, giving me that pensive but curious look that shifted my world.
“What language was that?” I decided to break the silence.
“Ilymerian, or old Galaythian.” His pupils dilated, darkening the usually vibrant color. “We were renewing an old pledge of allegiance.”
“It sounded… poetic.”
“I suppose it is.La níyneria, a mun dair’means ‘by soul and blood, we are bound.’ It’s the traditional vow of a Nightblade Royal to his sworn servants or those they love.”
I’d noticed that loyalty here went deeper than mere service. It was like it was part of them. Loyalty made them who they were.
Wolfe glanced at the notebook pressed against my chest then cocked his head, regarding me with narrowed assessing eyes. “Enjoying the show?”
“I was writing in my journal, minding my own business.” I imbued my voice with indifference to mask my irritation to being called out.
“Yet I saw you watching me.”
“Well, with that racket? Of course, I couldn’t concentrate,” I scuffed. “I’m sure half the ocean was watching you.”
He chuckled, shadows gathering around his wings like mist. “He wouldn’t have killed me, mage,” he stated, ignoring my comment. “But your concern was touching nonetheless.”
“I wasn’t concerned in the least. That guy could have killed you for all I cared.”
Blessed Mother, I was such a terrible liar. That lie alone might condemn me to the deepest, darkest hell of the six.
“I must have been mistaken, then.”
“Yes. You were.”
Wolfe's smile widened, revealing lengthened canines.
Gods, I'd been right. His teeth really had lengthened, much longer than yesterday. They looked almost like a dog's, or like the vampyres and lycans from Grandmother's books.
When he spotted me staring, he made a deliberate show of baring his teeth, predatory and threatening. A calculated tactic to intimidate me, I realized, and it worked. My breath caught in my throat.
“Why are your teeth longer?” I managed to ask, my voice barely steady.
His smirk turned wicked, those elongated fangs glinting in the sunlight. “Do you think I'm going to eat you, Ziyka?”
Fear shot through my veins. I hadn’t thought of that. Until just now.
“Are you?” The words came out more breathless than intended.
“Do you think I’d tell you if I were?”.
“No.”
He inched closer, menace lurking in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’ve already had my fair share of humans for the day. I’m not going to eat you Ziyka.”
I swallowed hard, not knowing if he was screwing with me. “That’s good to know. So, whyareyour teeth longer?”
