by Kate Sparkes
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then sat up and smiled. “We should go.”
My heart ached for her. She had the body of a fighter, but had been cursed with the heart of a lamb. It was a wonder it hadn’t all broken her completely. I didn’t think I could have survived it.
She led me down the halls and up a flight of stairs. “Will you attend the fire tonight?” I asked. “Since you’re not on duty.”
“I might just rest. Wander a bit.”
She stopped in front of a wooden door and raised her fist to knock. The door swung open, and Zinian ducked out of the way before she could punch him in the face. He wore a shirt this time, a fitted tunic that had been tailored to leave his wings free.
He leaned out into the hallway and glanced both ways, as though checking to see whether anyone might be watching. “Thank you, Auphel. I’ll return her safely later tonight.”
Auphel pressed a hand to her chest, open-palmed, spun on her heel, and walked away. A salute, I supposed.
Zinian motioned for me to enter, and I stepped into his room.
The walls were lined with books, and the bed was covered in heavy red blankets. A table for two had been set with cutlery and long-stemmed water glasses in the open space near the roaring fire, which was safely contained by a metal grate in the heavy granite fireplace. The carpet was thicker and softer than the one in Verelle’s room, and I curled my bare toes into it.
“It’s not bad, is it?” Zinian asked. I turned and found him smiling slightly as he watched me. “This was the queen’s chief advisor’s room.”
“It’s lovely,” I said. I looked over the books again, and a tingle of embarrassment crept over the back of my neck. “I guess maybe the main library wasn’t so essential, after all. I never considered how many books they probably had here in the palace. Why didn’t you say something?”
He stepped closer. “Because preserving those books may help protect these ones, and I do have a certain affection for books, as a rule. Because we haven’t done any sort of inventory of what’s here or there, and you’re right. There may be something useful.” His gaze dropped lower, taking in my dress and everything it revealed, and heat crept into my cheeks as he drew in a long, slow breath. He met my eyes again. “Because you seemed so passionate about it, and I thought you might need that library as much as anyone. You don’t seem the type to enjoy being locked up with nothing to do. And you should be happy, if you have to stay.”
“Thank you.” My voice came out softer than I’d intended. “I have been feeling lost. It will be better when I have some kind of purpose.”
He motioned for me to sit, then carried over two covered plates from another table in the corner. I felt faint at the scent that wafted from mine as he uncovered it, rich and thick and promising more flavour than I’d enjoyed in days. Vegetables again, but smothered in a butter and herb sauce, and accompanied by some unfamiliar grain dish.
My stomach groaned.
Zinian’s meal was the same, save for the addition of a slab of meat, seared on the outside. He saw me looking and raised an eyebrow. “Does this bother you?”
“What is it?”
“Cow. I can put it away if it’s a problem.”
“Why would that bother me? It looks lovely.”
He stared at me for a few seconds, then laughed. “I’m sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not necessarily like the humans here. You eat meat?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Would you like some?” He picked up a sharp knife and cut the meat open. The inside was cooked, but barely. Bright red blood stained the rest of the food on his plate.
“Um…Sure.” I enjoyed rare beef. This was just a little more of the same.
We ate in silence. I couldn’t have talked if I’d needed to—I was too busy shovelling the divine food into my mouth. Fresh peas exploded with bright flavour on my tongue. I’d never cared for them before, but found myself suddenly in love. It was gone all too soon.
“Who made this,” I asked, “and where have they been hiding the past few days?”
“I did. We’ve started bringing food in from the farms outside the city.”
“Wha—I mean, wow. Thank you.”
He nodded and sipped his water. “Tell me more about your world. I suppose it must be quite different. Meat-eating humans are a good start.”
I told him a few things I thought he might find interesting, given what I knew about their world. It made me realize how shallow my knowledge of things like economics and politics were. He asked a little about my life, my schooling, and the town where I grew up. And he listened. Not the way most people listen, as though they’re organizing their thoughts and waiting for their next chance to speak, but actually listening. His eyes never left mine, save to glance at the door when the faint sounds of footsteps went by. The monstrous aspects of his appearance seemed to fade away. Not that they disappeared—I was still aware of the horns, the wings, the claws. They just didn’t matter.
“So this fellow you lived with,” he said. “Will he be worried that you’re missing?”
“I doubt he’ll notice. I made it very clear that I didn’t want to speak to him again.”
“Is that common in your culture? These intense relationships ending?”
My cheeks warmed. “It is when one of the partners goes on business trips and sleeps with every waitress who catches his eye on the road.”
“Ah.” He offered a sympathetic grimace. “I suppose I won’t offer my regrets if you’re better off without him.”
“Thank you.”
Silence followed, and I wasn’t entirely sure whether it was awkward or not. I broke it by saying, “I guess I’ll have to get used to the differences, if I’m staying here.”
“Elurien is different,” he agreed. “Even from itself a few months ago. Things have been bad for everyone, but in spite of what you’ve seen since you arrived, we are trying to create a better future.”
I rolled the stem of my water glass between my fingers. “And what about your future, personally? Now that the fighting seems to be done and Verelle is gone?”
He frowned at her name. “I don’t know. I won’t stay here, which should please many.” He said it without self-pity, but it made me curious.
“You seem to have a strange relationship with the others,” I said cautiously, well aware that he might care more about that than he let on. “You’re one of their leaders, right?”
“I am. And they take orders from me well enough. But it took me a long time to gain even that much respect, and now that they don’t need me, it’s better that I go. I look too human to be trusted.”
“I’m surprised they’re so shallow,” I said. “You look perfectly monstrous to me.”
He flashed me half a smile. “I appreciate that. But the fact is that I must have quite a bit of human blood in me somewhere. You’ve never met an amalgus?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“Amalgi aren’t a proper species. We’re a little of our amalgus parent and a little of the other one, and it all comes out like… well.” He gestured to his own body. “Like so. I don’t know anything about either of my parents. I was abandoned at birth and taken in by a harpy.”
“That’s terrible.”
He shrugged. “It’s how it goes. Inter-species relationships are generally frowned upon, which leaves my kind alone much of the time, as we’re quite rare. Giving birth to a child like me would have been shameful for anyone. The fact that I lived at all was probably a mercy on my mother’s part, especially if she was human.”
“I see.” So it hadn’t been cockiness when he implied that he got stared at a lot. He was unusual, even here. A misjudgment on my part, if a small one.
I tried to imagine what would have compelled a human woman of this world to make a mistake like that. But then, if Zinian’s father had been anything like him, I couldn’t blame her. His appearance had been shocking at first, but once I’d got past my fear and noticed his intelligence
and compassion, he’d become rather distracting. I suddenly became aware again of my exposed skin, the alluring dress I’d worn. Had I really thought he wouldn’t care? That he couldn’t want me? He’d said it was frowned-upon, not impossible.
Focus, girl. As far as I was concerned, any physical attraction I felt could sit its ass down and shut up. His words were far more important, and I suspected he needed a listening ear more than anything else I had to offer.
I didn’t ask more, but waited until he was ready to speak again.
He frowned. “It goes deeper, though. I’m not their leader because of a brilliant military career. They needed me because I knew the palace well, and knew Verelle better than anyone. She hid behind her magic and her walls for hundreds of years, but she had a few weaknesses. One of them was that she grew bored with human company after a dozen or so decades.” He hesitated over the word company. “She chose monsters as her personal attendants. Always those with more pleasing human-like faces or bodies. We all knew about it, and our parents tried to protect those of us who might be vulnerable.”
“How bad was it to be chosen?”
“It was a death sentence. Verelle couldn’t afford to have her secrets get out. When she grew bored of her servants and playthings, she had them beheaded. Whether it was the young centaur who drew her bathwater or the masked gorgon she kept as a symbol of her power and control, no one lasted more than a few years in the palace. And depending on what games struck her fancy at any time, death might have been a mercy.”
He dragged his claws lightly over the scars on his right cheek. “She spotted me when she passed through a forest where I was hunting, and liked what she saw. When they came for me, I tried to tear my face off. I hoped that she might leave me alone if she found me hideous.” He smiled sadly. “She had me beaten for defacing her property, but forgave it soon enough. Gave me a place as her personal scribe. Among other things.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, except…
“I’m sorry.” I thought I understood what his other duties might have involved, and wouldn’t pry more into that. I felt my cheeks flush slightly as I considered my own response to him as I’d got past the whole monster thing. I’m not like her, I swear.
He stood and walked to the bookshelf beside the fireplace, where he ran his fingertips gently over the spines of the books. “I got used to life here, and as I got to know Verelle better, I thought perhaps I could change her mind about monsters by making her see me as more than a rebellious beast.”
He clenched his hands into fists. “So I stopped fighting her. I obeyed willingly. And for a long time, it appeared to be working. She seemed genuinely fond of me, and she let her guard down. Gave me a little freedom. Even if I couldn’t return her affection, I tolerated it.” His brow furrowed. “I gave up my pride and dignity in an attempt at peace.
“She never grew tired of me, never took a second companion while I served her. And her personal servants were treated well while I was there. I heard less talk of war. I was keeping everyone safe by making her happy, or so I thought. ”
“And she chose not to kill you, obviously.”
He turned back to me. His skin had lost some of its colour. “She would have, eventually, yet I stayed for the sake of the others. Then one day I found her in the dungeons. A male centaur stood chained to the wall as a human woman whipped him and cut him with knives. A female centaur lay in the corner, already broken and half dead, sobbing. The floor was red with their blood. I learned later that they were lovers, torn apart to work in separate mines and reunited in that dungeon after years apart. Verelle had promised them they would leave alive and together if they watched each other’s torture without attacking the humans who kept their mate chained, and without screaming.”
“My God.” My stomach filled with ice as I listened, and gooseflesh covered me.
“Verelle wore a white dress, splattered with blood.”
I glanced down at the dress I’d borrowed from her closet and wished I had chosen another colour. Zinian didn’t seem to notice. “She’d stood that close to watch. Her eyes were so bright, her cheeks flushed, like when…” He bared his fangs. “It was all a lie. I was never enough, and was never really changing her darker attitudes toward monsters. She just hid some of her pleasures from me. Keeping me complacent was as much of a game for her as torturing the centaurs was. I escaped not long after that, tracked down the rebellion, and told Grys that I could get his soldiers into the city and the palace. It took years, but we built the perfect army to fight Verelle. I taught them to recognize her illusions and exploit the weaknesses in the winged soldiers she’d created. I’d kept my eyes and ears open while I lived in the palace, and it paid off. But no one has ever forgotten how I gained that knowledge.”
“You had no choice.”
He shook his head. “I could have fought, as the others did. I suppose she would have enjoyed that, but at least I could have tried. In the end I only angered her. Things didn’t end well for any of her slaves or servants after I left, and the humans’ mistreatment of us only became worse.” He swallowed hard and looked around the room. His wings flexed. “I took a chance, and I suppose in the end it worked out, but I still don’t know whether the cost to myself or anyone else was worth it. So no, I won’t be staying in this city. And I don’t blame the others for hating me.”
Again, I didn’t know what to say. As far as I could see, he’d had the best intentions when he’d complied with whatever Verelle had asked of him. He’d tried to save his people by serving their enemy, and for that the others saw him as a traitor. His regrets ran deeper than anything I’d ever experienced, and my heart ached for him.
“It must be hard, but at least you made a choice,” I said before I’d realized I was speaking aloud. He looked at me, and I made myself go on. “I’ve never had to take that kind of a chance. I thought that leaving home was a risk, moving in with someone, falling in love. They were small things, though. Your choices hurt more people than mine have, but I think they were also less selfish than any risk I’ve ever taken. I’ve always been too scared. I admire the fact that you did something.”
“It wasn’t selfless.” The shame in his voice shocked me. “It wasn’t as though I got nothing out of my years here. I can pretend it was noble, but in truth, she gave me something I needed, too.”
“Acceptance?” I knew how desperate that need could feel.
He nodded. “No one else had ever wanted me as she did. And though I never stopped hating her, I began to need that. It sickens me to think of it now.”
I stood and placed my napkin on the table, then walked slowly toward him as though approaching a wounded animal. I stopped just outside the reach of his claws. “I’m sorry that you’re hurting, and I understand why you’d want to leave. But I think the city will be worse off without you.”
His lips curled in a rueful half smile. “Because I save libraries?”
“More than that. You saved my life. You led your people to victory, even if they aren’t thanking you for it. I think you’re wiser than you give yourself credit for. You take chances to try to help others.” I paused, then decided that I could be as honest as he had been. “I wish I could be more like that, but I get so scared of the consequences.”
His eyes met mine, and for the first time I noticed the way the green irises were faintly marbled through with icy blue. Not human, after all, and absolutely spellbinding.
“Maybe you could take more chances as you find your place in this new world.” His fingers curled, as though he was fighting the urge to touch me. “Regrets are hard, but I suspect that never opening yourself to possibilities is worse.”
I had to look away. My gaze fell to his lips, soft curves that didn’t quite match the hard lines of his jaw. Fascinating lips. The room seemed to grow warmer.
I squeezed my eyes closed. I couldn’t think about him that way, no matter how kind he was, how weirdly attractive he might be, or how curious I was about what those claws might feel
like on my skin.
When I opened my eyes, he’d stepped back a pace. My stomach clenched with disappointment. Make up your mind, Hazel.
“Thank you for a lovely evening,” he said, his warm voice filling the space his body had vacated. He watched me intently. Seeing, I suspected, more than I’d have liked, but not taking advantage of my confusion. “It’s been a long time since I found myself this comfortable speaking with someone. You must be tired, though. Shall I walk you to your room?”
“Thank you.”
It was a good thing this monster was also a gentleman. Uncomfortable as I was with risks, I had to admit to myself that he was tempting.
I smiled as I remembered the first time I saw him. The devil, indeed. A convenient scapegoat for bad decisions since forever.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
We didn’t speak as we walked, and I didn’t look out the windows we passed, where distant flames flickered against the black, star-filled sky. I stopped outside Verelle’s rooms.
“This was lovely,” I said. My heart fluttered into my throat as I realized how close he was standing. Not a friendly distance. Just far enough that he could look me over again, eyes lingering on the bare skin between my breasts and on my throat.
He looked hungrier than seemed decent for a perfect gentleman, but I could deal with that imperfection. His gaze met mine, and my heart stumbled.
I leaned back against the door. He’s going to kiss me. Do monsters even kiss here? Do humans? Or is it like the salute, completely different?
Familiar, tingling warmth filled my body, electric currents that woke me up and brought the world into sharp focus, relaxing and exciting me at the same time.
Zinian placed one hand flat on the rough stone wall beside me and leaned closer.
I closed my eyes.