Page 54 of Sanctuary of the Shadow
“Sal, it’s late, and I’m not even fully awake. You’re going to have to give me more than that.”
But Salizar wasn’t buying it. Climbing up the steps to the threshold, he loomed over her, forcing her to step back as he let himself into the caravan.
Her eyes widened a little. Okay, he was seriously pissed.
“Tell me where she is, Malaikah.”
“I don’t know, Salizar.”
He forced her back another step, reaching behind him to slam the door shut.
Damn. Maybe the lack of clothing wasn’t such a great idea after all.
No, she refused to be intimidated by him. If he came at her, she’d use her claws if she had to. Take a page from Raith’s bloodthirsty book.
“Where. Is. She.”
“I. Don’t. Know.”
He banged the staff on the floor, and another shower of sparks shot out the end. “Don’t fuck with me.”
“Look, even if I knew where Harrow was, I wouldn’t tell you. Especially with you barging in here waving that damned thing around.”
“You do realize what she’s done? Do you know what the creature she absconded with is?”
Mal shrugged, feigning calm. In reality, her heart was trying to crawl its way up her throat. “Harrow says she trusts him, so I trust him. If they took off, it was probably for a good reason.”
“Harrow is deluded by her infatuation. I’m trying to protect her, not punish her.”
“Look, I already told you I don’t know—”
“Save it,” Salizar snapped. “Instead, let me tell you why I’m confident I am—was—in possession of a real wraith.”
“Wraiths are incorporeal. You can’t hold them in a cage. If they even exist, that’s the number one thing everyone knows about them.”
“Yes. Unless someone found a way to trap one in its physical form.”
“Which would take buckets of magic.”
“The kind of magic possessed by, say”—he gave a telling lift of his brow—“an Elemental Queen.”
Her jaw dropped.
“Let me tell you a story, Malaikah. Shall we sit?” Salizar spun, long coat whooshing around him, and took a seat at the table. He removed his hat and ruffled his dark hair. The tips of his pointed ears were distinguishable between the thick strands, and his vivid blue gaze tracked her intently. He sprawled sideways on the bench seat, long legs not even close to fitting under the table.
This tall, imposing man in her tiny caravan looked decidedly incongruous. Yet he sat there like he owned the place. Which he kind of did.
She gritted her teeth and bit back a snarl. Though she’d never tell him in a million years, Sal had successfully intimidated her, the bastard. Grabbing a robe from the closet, Malaikah wrapped it around herself and sat opposite him.
“As you know, the eradication of the Seers began a century or so ago,” he began without preamble. “Roughly fifty years ago, the last remaining clan was making their way back to Darya’s territory when tragedy struck. A wraith descended upon their camp at night and killed all, save one. A small girl, aged ten.” There was a knowing in those piercing blue eyes, and it clicked.
“You knew,” Malaikah breathed. “You’ve known who she was all along.”
“Yes.”
And he’d never said a word to either of them, had been content to protect Harrow’s secret all these years without a whisper of acknowledgment. Malaikah could only stare at him.
“To this day,” Salizar continued, “no one is quite sure why an unfeeling, incorporeal assassin disobeyed its mistress and spared the life of an innocent child. The story spread like wildfire, each retelling more grandiose than the last, until it was regarded as nothing but a silly rumor and faded into oblivion. But as we know, Harrow, the last surviving Seer, is no rumor.”
