Page 90 of Kiss the Filthiest King

When Calreth got the news stating that two huntsmen, three sins, and something vaguely purplish who may or may not be a minor snake-like god were circling the shields, I volunteered to join him, fast.

Hunting is supposed to be uncomplicated. Their energies pound against the cosmic barriers shielding our world, and we pound right back, so to speak. It's rather freeing to let myself hit something with all my might.

My body's quiet in the room I currently occupy—Darina's. I wouldn't call itmine. The rest of me is here, along with my brother and a few of his fellow huntsmen.

I suspect, after the news he shared with me, he needs the distraction as much as I do. Not so much the divine piece of gossip—that's my drama—but on his way, he caught glimpse of her. His mate. He's fairly certain this time around.

I don't even know what to say, given that she's the third woman sporting the exact same face that we know of. Asking him if he's sure this time feels a little cold albeit necessary.

Calreth is in top form, as usual, but me? I should be more powerful than ever, considering that I'm supposed to have taken on the might of that thing beyond the gates. Instead, I am exhausted.Weak. Like every second outside of my body is draining me. Killing me. As if I were a meremortal,bound to my flesh.

I realize there are creatures unable to separate their mind and body, like regular humans, but even irrelevant little witches can do this. Why is it causing me trouble?

When the purplish asshole flashes right before me, and I feel it like I punch in the aether, I have to admit it's time to bow out.

"I need to go," I tell Calreth. "Can you handle this?"

"Do you need me?" he asks.

I hesitate, and that in itself is telling; I don’t generally need anyone, not even my twin.

“You’re more valuable here. Guard the gates.”

On that note, I will myself back into my flesh.

I wake to a strange, and highly disturbing, wet feeling right at the top of my head. Lifting my eyes, I mostly restrain what would have been an undignified shriek.

Darina’s monstrous familiar is wrapped around me, her long, powerful black body spread out on top of the bed, and her rough tongue’s licking my head, grooming me.

I’ve seen enough cats and folk with feline traits to understand this is a form of caring, reserved for things the creature considers part of its family. At least a part of my mate considers me hers. Sadly, it’s just her cat.

The nixie moves swiftly as I straighten up, haughtily, seeming annoyed at having been caught showing something close to affection. Before she can move, I offer her a hand to sniff.

The humongous head presses hard against my palm, and with a single leap, she jumps up from the bed, landing at the door, and makes her way out. I note she’s smart enough to push her paw downward, opening it.

I stare at the space she occupied moments ago, my mind racing. What the hell happened?

Of course, I’m not the same person I was the last time I hunted with Calreth, mere weeks ago, but I would have thought I’d be stronger, and yet, there’s no denying that my power’s considerably decreased against the eldritch.

Shaking my head, I opt to make my way to the library again, though I can’t begin to say what I’m looking for, and the thousands of volumes we’ve searched haven’t helped so far.

I’m halfway there when my eyes catch a curious sight.

While the court is still celebrating inside the palace, outside, the night is quiet, still, and cold. The midnight snow has melted, but we’re too far from dawn for the first ray of sunlight to warm the Hollow. One girl, dressed simply in a white shirt and leather breeches, a head of reddish-brown hair flowing behind her, crosses the gates, almost running toward the first line of trees by the queen’s lake, called by the wild.

She passes servants, horses, guards, attracting no attention except for mine.

What the hell does she think she’s doing? Darina’s wearing the clothes I gave her and the face she used to wear, her human shape, and slipping outside like a thief in the night.

I hesitate, considering calling Loch or Caenan. Instead, I leap out of the window, landing silently, and surround myself in shadows before following the reckless girl who doesn’t seem to realize just how many people would like to choke the life out of her.

I find her kneeling by the lake, seated in a bed of flowers, blooming hours before they’re meant to open up, leaning towards her as if she was their sun.

She’s breathing in and out, slowly, purposely. I’m startled to find her…practicing. Tuning herself to this world and its magic. Searching her strength.

I smile. She’s no longer the brat who made Caenan take her to the grove because she wanted to be there. She understands this world now, and is wise enough to see that to survive it, she must change. Why should I chide her like a misbehaving child when she’s clearly capable enough to sneak out without being noticed?

The only point I should insist on is for her to take a guard, but that can wait.

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