Page 56 of Deadly Maiden

The illusionist wears grey stovepipe pants with a matching coat and a crisp white shirt. He has gorgeously thick black hair that haloes his head and brings out my hair envy. Silver cuffs and shoe buckles, the many rings on his fingers, these speak of wealth or the illusion of it.

How can one tell what is real? One of the golden rings changes as I watch.

“You do.” Rorsyd stretches his arm across the couch behind me, lets his hand drape over me at the angle of shoulder and neck. “This is Wyntre. Wyntre meet Hunder Rekson.”

The owning gesture instantly warms me, everywhere. Strange yet wonderful how easily his touch stirs me. I smile and hold his fingers for a moment, letting them slide through my finger and thumb.

“Excellent. Pleased to meet you Wyntre. Never thought I’d see you as a lovebird, Rorsyd. Make that a love dragon.” He winks at us.

So Hunder knows what Rorsyd is. He hasn’t shifted in twenty years. How old is their friendship? “You two know each other well?”

“Yes.” Hunder nods. “Forty years?”

“Forty plus,” Rorsyd rumbles. He looks to me. “Hunder is one of the few who knows me from before I was wounded at the Battle of Orish.”

“Mmm. Yes. Terrible day.” His face falls, and I decide not to probe that.

If Hunder was there, too… He will know who killed Orish. I’m not asking that. I’m still afraid to. My parents’ actions echo a long way through time.

They talk for a while about what they did together and how things were, and though I’m asked minor things, I mostly listen. This is the first moment where I’ve felt the weight of Rorsyd’s past, and it’s a revelation. Immortal, he can live almost forever,depending on circumstances. I don’t, cannot, really understand how that must feel.

To live forever.

To have a friend, who should have been around forever, die in front of you. I wrap my mind around an inkling of a suggestion as to why Rorsyd wished to kill me. And I forgive him completely. If there were a shred of blame left in me, it has gone, whisked away, stamped out.

I snuggle into his side, and eventually the conversation veers into why we are here.

“To get a disguise? Should I want to know why?” Hunder is looking at me more than Rorsyd.

I don’t dare to say anything. I don’t know what he can be trusted with.

Rorsyd clasps my knee, squeezes. “You know that I worked with the enforcers? I quit with extreme…actions. People died.”

“I do know this. That you were one. And they are not the force they used to be. The Aos Sin, the king, and his enforcers are doing bad and naughty things. To put it somewhat more lightly than they deserve. People are impoverished, suffering, and are being persecuted for doing almost nothing wrong.” He frowns. “Am I surprised? No. And what about Wyntre? May I ask?”

Another knee squeeze. I purse my lips and wait.

“I trust you, Hunder, but maybe you shouldn’t know why? That way you can easily deny knowing?”

“Very well.” He nods then whips into business. “Then onto the disguise. The blue hair. Easy. I will keep the length. Small changes in the face, pointier ears, as that’s more the average fae. Nothing else needs altering?”

“I don’t think so?” When I look to him, Rorsyd agrees.

“Then there is you, my dear boy.Hmmm.”

I bite back a laugh at my Rorsyd being called a boy.MyRorsyd. Where didthatcome from?

I’m pulled back into the chat by Rorsyd exclaiming, “My eyes? Why my eyes? Just my build lessened, my hair a bit duller. That should do it.”

Hunder switches to me. “Has he not seen it?”

I’m lost then understanding hits me. “Wait. Did he not always have those eyes?” I’ve missed something, but I don’t know what it is that I do not know.

“They were brown, since the battle.”

My mouth is a hugeO. Rorsyd is squinting and scowling at us both, his brow furrowed.

“There. Look at yourself.” Hunder points to where a half-length mirror hangs on the wall behind to a decorative table.

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