Feral Magic: An Urban Fantasy Romance-Thriller
Page 36
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The shake of the door lever roused me. My neck ached where I had slept with my chin on my chest, and my shoulders complained when I rolled them.
I remembered where I was and how I had come to be there, then I searched the room for Agnes. She was sitting where I had last seen her, but now she held in her hands a simple flute instead of a stick.
She was starting to get up when the door opened and Mordon's face peered inside. “Nest? How did you fare?”
“I've endured more fearful thunderstorms,” she said and walked over to him. They spoke quietly in the doorway for a couple minutes. I stretched, drawing his attention.
Then his eyes met mine and his brow furrowed. “Fera.” His soft tone of disappointment was more effective than any other screech or scolding I'd ever had before. A pit welled in my stomach. I gave him a weak smile. He didn't return it. “You said you'd go back inside.”
A hot blush ran over my cheeks. “Technically I did go back in. I just came back out again.”
He shook his head, looked like he was about to say something, then stepped back from the door.
I heard the crunch of his boots on the gravel path.
Glancing at Agnes, I found no pity in her gaze—but no condemnation, either. She said, “He doesn't take well to lying. That man's too kind for his own good.”
The pit of shame in my gut was transforming into an angry cat of nervousness, intent on tearing my stomach to bits. Springing to my feet, I ran after him, but the man could move when he wanted to. I was jogging to catch up to his quick walk.
“Mordon!” I called softly, since there were people around. They were involved in their own projects, but I didn't want to attract attention. I had a feeling that just by being a new face, I would be looked at scornfully enough.
He stopped, but didn't look back.
I nearly tumbled into him. My legs had gone numb in the chair, and now I was feeling the painful prickle as life flowed back into them. I gasped, “I didn't mean to lie.”
“It didn't just happen.” Mordon's voice was cool, almost cold. It made my heart skip.
I licked my lips and tried to see his face. “Look, you might not always be able to trust what I say. Alright? But I wouldn't do anything to harm you. I didn't mean…”
“How am I to trust the words you are saying right now?”
I blanched, then I took his elbow in my hand and rested my head on the back of his shoulder. “Then don't. Never trust what I say. Trust in what I do. I don't know why I came back out. But I had to.”
Mordon let out a sigh. For an agonizing minute, he said nothing, only had his shoulder to me. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a man straighten up from examining a rock wall, stretching his back, looking at me, but trying not to stare.
Mordon said, “It was you, then, who put the green dragon in the fir tree?”
“Yes. He came after me…or Nest. Not sure which.”
“I'm still angry with you.”
“That's good.”
“Is it?”
“If you said you weren't, I'd know that you were lying to me. Which is bad, because a great leader doesn't lie to those he cares for.”
Mordon turned his head to look at me. “Does that mean that you will stop lying, then?”
“For all my lying, I should think that the end result of my actions are predictable. The way you behave is less transparent, even when you stand by your words. In any case, what does my honesty have to do with your being a great leader?” I asked, putting hands on my hips and stepping back. I didn't like the way we were being watched.
Mordon didn't have an immediate answer, but he stepped to study me, particularly my face. He said, “You've changed.”
The comment was more alarming than it should have been. I licked my lips. “How so?”
Mordon tipped my chin up with a single finger. His eyes held traces of anger, and were now mostly fascinated. After a few seconds, he said, “You've grown into yourself.”
What did he mean by that?
Before I could ask, he resumed walking up the path. Glancing again at the man who had half his attention on the pile of rocks, I followed after Mordon.