Page 2 of A Blade of Lies and Spirits

“I can handle this myself,” I told him, even though I hadn’t exactly done that so far.

His gaze gentled. “Alys, we’re practically family. I just want to help you… without being stabbed.”

I lifted a brow. “You always were a dreamer.”

Chance reached for the table, then one of my knives glittered in his hand. I couldn’t read his expression. Strange; we’d known each other since we were early teens. Hands gentle, he selected a strand of my hair, now hanging loose, and cut it. The red-brown lock appeared redder against his dark skin. With deft movements, he secured one end and then worked it into a slender braid as I watched.

“Before I get started. Just in case.” He placed it in his shirt pocket.

Some of my hair. How irritating. The bastard wanted to be sure he could track me from this point forward. Probably thinking that because I became an indentured servant since we were last together, I couldn’t take care of myself properly. He always was the cocky, know-it-all sort.

His palm touched my forehead, covering the stone. He didn’t smell the same, affecting a heavily musky scent that made me want to sneeze. That cologne was in fashion amongst the upper class, haunting elevators in Capitol like pollen.

Sensation prickled on my skin, ants biting head to foot with random wasp stings added for zest, joining the echoes of the headache. The effects of the geas and his magic fighting each other.

I flexed my hands and feet in small movements, trying to work the knots loose. Sweat dribbled on my face and down my back. My teeth gritted around gasps to keep from screaming. I refused to give him the satisfaction.

He put his hand on my chest just below my throat. His touch was clinical, but the skin under his fingertips burned.

At least one of the knots of the geas was seated where he had placed his hand. Pain zinged through my chest, a needle of fire. I swallowed a yelp. “Stop it!”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It hurts!”

“I can bear limitless amounts of your pain if I need to, Lissy.” His voice was very dry, his face had become a mask. He could feel my pain, unlike me, Chance didn’t like to admit his talent with empathy, since most people thought it would make him an easy mark. It didn’t. He just experienced people’s pain while he inflicted it.

I focused on future plans. I would flay him, tan his skin and have it made into a new set of gloves. I needed new gloves. The ones I had were worn thin in the fingers.

“This will hurt.” Blue fire engulfed his other hand.

“Screw you,” I snarled. “Stop!”

“Later, Alys, once I’ve neutralized this.” He smiled, the movement of his mouth not masking the anger that burned in his eyes. Not directed at me, small comfort. Things broke when Chance wore that expression.

It had become a challenge. In Chance’s little world, I was one of his people and only he was allowed to pick on me. This was our teens writ large now, except that him removing the geas could kill me.

The door creaked, and Chance spun onto his feet. The glow on his hands snapped to an angry red.

Walker stood, head tilted, arms folded. Wisps of darkness chased each other around his body, magic manifesting to the naked eye. An unfamiliar texture to it, powerful but insubstantial at the same time. I couldn’t categorize it; I’d never seen power like it.

I watched his reflection in the mirror. His dark hair fell free past his shoulders, no longer confined by a careful braid.

“Alys. I was looking for you.” His eyes moved to Chance. “Stop.”

I ground my teeth, chest heaving. Chance’s stance didn’t relax.

“Has it escaped your notice that I’m tied up?” I winced as the snicker forced its way out past my lips. The five small burns from where Chance’s digits had been splayed on my chest hurt.

Walker considered me a moment, his expression some mix of possessive and angry. Which was interesting. I knew he’d implied we’d try to work things out between us since we parted last, but I figured he’d forget the crazy notion once he had a good night’s sleep, if he’d even meant it at that.

Given the look on his face though, maybe I’d been wrong.

“Are you okay?” he emphasized each word.

I gave him the ghost of a smile. I wasn’t necessarily okay, but this situation likely looked a lot worse than it was. “Yes.”

His gaze turned to Chance. “What’s going on? Who are you? Have I interrupted an asault?”

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