Page 18 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
“Sweet Goddess,” she breathed, staring at him with shock. “You— What are you?”
He glanced at the sign again.
She followed his gaze. “Raith… I don’t understand—” She gasped. “Wraith? Does Salizar think you’re a wraith? But that—”
Suddenly, she froze. As still as if she had been transformed into stone.
It seemed a counterproductive survival instinct, he thought distantly. If any part of her could have been said to move at all, it was her eyes. They grew wider and wider until they were tiny circles staring at him with horror.
A strange ache clenched his chest, not dissimilar to how it felt to be stabbed with Salizar’s lightning stick. He didn’t like the idea of her being afraid of him, which was strange, because it was much easier to protect himself when others feared him.
He changed his skin back to the darker golden brown, wishing he hadn’t shown her his trick. It was foolish to think she wouldn’t recoil from him as everyone else had—
“That’s ridiculous,” Harrow announced suddenly, and he watched in fascination as, one by one, her muscles relaxed and she regained normalcy. The fear melted from her eyes, and she shook away any remaining vestiges of it with a jerk of her head. “There’s no way you’re a wraith.”
He cocked his head.Why not?he wanted to ask.How do you know?But the sound of his voice disturbed him, and he preferred not to speak unless he had to.
Luckily, she seemed to interpret his body language. “Because wraiths, if they even exist, are supposed to be incorporeal, like ghosts, and they can’t be imprisoned. They’re shadows of death, mindless killers that serve the Fire Queen. They’re terrible, evil monsters.”
Raith wondered again why wraiths were automatically considered evil, but he was also glad Harrow didn’t think he was one.
“So why would Salizar make this sign? It’ll be obvious to everyone you’re not a wraith by the very fact that you’re stuck in that cage. Unless…maybe he’s going to lie? But how to convince people? You don’t seem very wraithlike to me. I mean, sure, your eyes are…well, they’re very unusual, but that doesn’t mean—”
The sudden murmur of voices outside the tent caught their attention. Their gazes locked in mutual panic at the approaching visitor.
For the third time in his new existence, he overrode his aversion to speech and used his voice. “Go.”
“But what about you?”
He wasn’t going anywhere—the enchantments on the cage were done well. There was no way he could break out.
Harrow seemed to understand this. “I’ll come back. Tomorrow, after the circus shuts for the night.”
He shook his head. It wasn’t safe for her. She could be inadvertently harmed by her association with him, and he had already decided he didn’t like the thought of that happening.
The voices were louder now. He pointed at the tent entrance, urging her to go.
Giving him one last look, she hurried toward the exit but stopped suddenly, realizing it was too late to leave that way. The voices were right outside now.
“Why are the lamps lit?” he heard Salizar demand.
Raith clutched the edges of the bars so tightly, the steel groaned under his strength. His inability to act threatened to send him into a mindless rage.
Harrow proved she could take care of herself, however. Spinning around, she ran toward the back wall of the tent, dropped to the ground, and rolled forward on her side. A second roll took her under the bottom of the canvas at the exact moment that the tent flap was ripped open and Salizar ducked inside.
“Who lit the lamps?” he demanded of Raith, who, of course, said nothing.
Loren rushed in behind him. Salizar turned to him. “Did you leave the lamps lit?”
“No, sir.”
Salizar glared at the human. “Someone’s been in here.” He transferred that glare to Raith. “Who was it?”
Raith just stared at him.
“Still being silent, I see.” He approached the wagon, brandishing his lightning stick, hatred for his caged monstrosity shining clear in his blue eyes. Raith glared back, unafraid of pain, unafraid of any wound the lightning stick could inflict.
Without breaking eye contact, Salizar said, “Loren, post a guard on the tent at night.” He turned to go. “I don’t have time to monitor him myself, and— What the fuck is that?”
