Nine
She looked in the mirror, trying to work out if anything was different about her. She'd managed all of the elements save one: Wind. Why it was Cam's mark that eluded her, she had no idea. Maybe it was all tied into the mists? They never had seemed all that friendly.
"Staring at yourself isn't going to help."
Macey shrieked and spun around, grabbing her shirt from the chair beside her and hastily throwing it back on.
"Lucien," she hissed. "What are you doing here?"
"Admiring the view." He lifted a suggestive eyebrow, but it was so at odds with the rest of his expression that she ignored it.
"And you thought just appearing in my room was the way to go?"
"I am your daimon," he pointed out. "Your Wardens did a good job at trying to lose me, I will admit. But they didn't take into account that I don't need to know where you are to be able to find you."
"That makes no sense," she snapped, concern filling her as she wondered about the implications.
"Doesn't it?"
"For a guide, you sure ask a lot of open questions."
"A guide's job isn't to tell their charge the answer, Macey. If I did that, then I might as well write an instruction manual."
"One would be appreciated," she muttered, trying not to taunt herself with how much easier that would make things.
"Whether that is the case or not, it's not something I can provide."
"Have you been talking to Malan?" She put her hands on her hips, more confident now she was covered. Even so, she hoped his eyes wouldn't stray to the messy bed and have him think those kinds of thoughts about her.
Luc laughed. "You have nothing to fear, your sex life doesn't bother me at the moment." He seemed nonchalant on the surface, but she could tell there was something else beneath the surface. She didn't know what though. The daimon was difficult for her to work out.
"Don't say that," she hissed.
"The word sex? You have four lovers at the moment, right?"
"Yes, sex."
"I didn't take you for a prude. How disappointing. I'd hoped you'd be more like the nymphs."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Anger flashed beneath the surface like a riptide under a calm sea. If the daimon wasn't careful, he was going to find himself well and truly drenched.
"How is the rage coming along, kelpie? Do you have it under control yet?"
"It was never out of my control," she snapped.
"The fields outside suggest differently."
"That was nothing more than an accident."
"I see, you're going to be one of those." He pulled out one of the chairs from beneath the simple wooden table. He flopped down on it, his dark wings flapping ever so slightly as he did.
"One of what?" She was curious, but didn't want to admit it quite yet. That would mean letting him win.
"Sit," he instructed.
She thought about arguing but decided it was too detrimental. Perhaps in his own round about way he'd tell her something useful. Or at least, more useful than Malan had. Not that it took much. Talking about something other than food made anyone more useful than the disembodied prophet.
Without waiting any longer, she perched herself on the end of the bed, only just refraining from kicking the loose bra she spotted underneath it so he wouldn't see.