Page 149 of The War of Wings
She clicked her tongue. “I would’ve straightened up around here had I known you’d be returning so quickly,” she sighed. I couldn’t tell if it had been an attempt at humor. “Come see,” she beckoned to the shelf closest to her chair. “I’ve reserved a spot especially for you.”
My stomach turned as I stared at the tiny vial where my soul would spend eternity, on the shelf closest to her eye level. Front and center. A brief nod was all I could manage. “Wow. Lovely view. Okay. Let’s get this over with.”
The Sanguilite cocked her head, a smirk pulling up at her lips as she closed the distance between us with maddeningly slow steps. A long, elegant hand landed softly against my chest, her silver eyes staring up at me. “This is the fun part,” she cooed, her hand traveling up my chest to my cheek.
My gaze locked on hers. I tried to look away, to escape the intensity of her stare, but my eyes were stuck.Okay, I thought to myself.Breathe, Cal. It’ll be over soon.A presence appeared in my head, as if a second mind existed alongside my own, projected into my conscience by those sharp silver eyes.
But then that second mind grew talons and hooked them into me. I flinched, my eyes still locked on hers as pain lanced through my skull, down my neck and into my chest. Pictures flashed through my head — of my mother, of the hut I grew up in, of the rolling hills outside Taitha. The rocking chair where my mother shushed us to sleep. A masked man. My mother dead on the floor.
The Sanguilite shuddered, a sick smile on her face as the pain intensified. She pulled the memories from me like she was unraveling yarn.
Nights in the Onyx Pass. Tobyas’ questions. Aunt Berna. Her home. Our home. My room. Tobyas’ books. A lord in the market asking me questions. Castemont. Castemont eating dinner with us. Castemont holding Aunt Berna’s hand. Castemont. Castemont. Castemont.
“Yes,” the Sanguilite hissed, her head falling back but her eyes still on me.
I breathed as the memories came faster, the loose yarn piling up in my head as she pulled and unraveled. Swinging a wooden sword. Tobyas. Dead. His gravestone over undisturbed earth. Sad. So fucking sad. Tyrak. Training. Running. Swinging a steel sword.
Inkwell. Drinking mead. Breaking my leg. Heal. Dammit Cal, heal. Royal Guard. Accepted. Young. King Umfray. Tyrak’s sword.
Then a wall of stark blackness.
The Sanguilite jolted, her brows furrowing suddenly, and then we were back at my broken leg. Heal. Dammit Cal, heal. Royal Guard. Accepted. Young. King Umfray. Tyrak’s sword.
Nothing.
A deep inhale entered the Sanguilite’s nose, disappointment suddenly evident in her features as she stepped away. She sucked her teeth, arms crossing over her chest. “Very well played,” she finally said, and I couldn’t read the look on her face.
My head shook, and I realized I could pull my eyes from hers now. “What happened?”
“You promised a soul that was not yours to give away,” she said, as if it were obvious. “And I accepted it like a fool.”
I blinked, my chest suddenly tight. “I can assure you I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”
She looked to where Aegrabane hung at my hip. “I should’ve known,” she sighed, turning on her heel and throwing her hands in the air before she collapsed into that tattered chair. “Eternity has softened my mind.”
I took a cautious step forward. “What is going on?”
“You’ve bested me.”
I opened my mouth to question her again, but an idea struck. With any luck, I’d never return to this Saints forsaken realm again, so it was my only chance to try what I was thinking. “What do you do about souls sacrificed to you unwillingly?”
The Sanguilite cocked one brow, a look of boredom on her face now. “What?”
“Well, I thought maybe they drained your beauty,” I said, feigning nonchalance. “Souls that are sacrificed by another, souls that come to you under false pretenses… They’re not true sacrifices, are they? And now that I’m thinking about it, you do look a touch older than the last time I saw you.”
Sheer panic pulled at the Sanguilite’s features, a self-conscious hand moving to one cheek. “What are you talking about?”
“I know of one soul sacrificed to you by another since I was here last. And since I was here last… Is that a gray hair?”
“Where?” she shrieked, her hands moving over her thick head of auburn hair that showed no signs of any shade of gray.
“It’s probably nothing.”
“Which soul is it?” she blurted, shuffling to her shelves. “Take it. I don’t want it.”
Perfect.
I answered her question, my shoulders tense until she found the vial she was looking for and all but threw it to me. Tucking it carefully into my pocket, I nodded to the Sanguilite. “I think you look more youthful already.”
