Page 128 of Thief of Souls
“I’m your nightmare, little wraith princeling,” Falion mocks. Suddenly there are a dozen shadows circling us. One of them actually holds a knife, which I thought was impossible.
Is he half-Sifting?
How is he holding that knife?
“Two down,” says the disembodied voice, as the knife draws sparks as it trails down the granite. “Four to go. Interesting to find a horde of wraiths daring to walk among the fae lands…. I wonder what brought them here?”
“Kill it,” Ruhle says.
One of his wraiths lunges forward, driving for the floating knife.
The shadow simply vanishes, and then the wraith is screaming—a brutal, tortured sound as if something drove a hand through his chest and grabbed his windpipe.
He dies with a gurgle, blood spilling from his lips as he falls but no other apparent injury.
The glimpse I catch of Ruhle’s face will warm my heart for centuries. He is actually shitting himself right now.
Falion steps out of the shadows, wiping at his hand with a linen handkerchief. His shock of silvery blond hair gleams in the light, and he’s still wearing the elegant silvery-blue doublet he wore for the wedding ceremony.
“No matter,” says Ruhle, cutting me a sharp look I have no trouble interpreting, considering it lingers on my face and hair. Clearly, he sees the resemblance as he steps back toward the mouth of the cavern. “We’ll deal with this development later. Retreat.”
“But we were just getting acquainted,” Falion mocks, spreading his hands.
Ruhle and his remaining companions flee, and while I’ve always thought I’d enjoy the sight, I can’t turn my back on the real monster in the room.
The smile falls off Falion’s face. “Get up.”
“What do you want with me?” I demand, shoving to my feet.
His eyebrow quirks and then he rakes me over with a disdainful look. “Where’s the horn?”
“Somewhere you’ll never find it. Stay back,” I warn, waving my knife at him.
He stills, but there’s a dangerous look in his merciless blue eyes. “I’m not here to kill you.”
“No?”
“If I wanted you dead, all I had to do was wait. You were about to have your throat slit by that two-bit wraith,” he sneers.
I stare at him, but there’s no hint he’s lying. He wants something from me. It’s not the horn, or he wouldn’t be here. It’s not to see me dead, or he could have merely waited.
“Fine,” I say, flipping the knife and sheathing it at my hip. “I’ll play. Why did you save my life? What do you want?”
“Want?” His gaze hardens. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I want answers. I want to know who you are and where you came from. And I want to know how you can walk in my shadows….”
26
“Who I am?” Of all the things I expected, it wasn’t this. I spread my hands wide. “I’m Merisel of Greenslieves, the beloved betrothed of Prince K—”
“You’re wraithenborn,” Falion says, his lip curling. “With fae magic in your veins. You’re an impossibility. You should never have been bred. But you….” He takes a dangerous step toward me, making me regret the impulse to sheathe the knife. “You are an abomination.”
The words strike me where they hadn’t been able to hit earlier. “Like I had any choice in the matter. I was born into this body. I didn’t choose it.”
“Who is your father?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It’s Raesh, isn’t it?” Every step he takes is tight with menace, but it’s the unsettling intensity in his eyes that unnerves me.
