Page 23 of First Offense
“Who is that?” I asked. Because whoever it was had to possess a death wish to speak to the Reformer like that.
“Auric,” Zian muttered.
“The Royal Guard?”
His lips brushed my temple as he whispered, “Yeah.” He joined me on the bed, his body protective beside mine while Sorin remained at the door beside Novak.
“Yes, I received your message,” Sayir replied, his voice smooth and reassuring. “There’s just one matter to clear up first.” He stopped in front of our cell and snapped his fingers.
“You,” one of the guards said, his focus on Novak. “Come with us.”
“Ah, fuck,” Zian muttered. “I told you to keep it under a dozen.”
“Now,” the guard snapped.
Novak merely shrugged and stepped up to the doorway with his arms out, awaiting his shackles. Except they didn’t handcuff him at all.
Instead, Sayir nodded toward the hallway. “This way.”
We all shared a look as Novak left without a backward glance.
Then the door slammed shut, locking us inside.Again.
8
Layla
“Sayir.I want a word. Right fucking now.” Auric’s tone made me cringe as I hid behind his wings. He’d been pacing the hallway, agitation pouring off him in waves as he dared anyone and everyone to fight him with a single glare.
Now he stood just outside our door, arms folded, stance wide, ready for a fight. I tried to peek around him to see my uncle but couldn’t find a breach in all the white plumes in front of my face.
“Yes, I received your message,” someone replied, his tone smooth and elegant and reminding me of my father. That had to be my uncle, the infamous Reformer. We’d never met, but I knew of him. Sort of. “There’s just one matter to clear up first.”
My brow furrowed.Only one?I repeated to myself. Surely there were at least two dozen more, considering all the dead Noir outside. My father wouldneverapprove of this.
“You,” a deep voice snapped. “Come with us.”
I tried again to see around Auric’s wings and failed.
“Now,” the voice added, sounding impatient and cruel.
I shivered and stepped deeper into my cell, giving up on seeing around Auric.
“This way,” my uncle said, his tone layered with a calmness I didn’t feel.
I was about to meet the Reformer for the first time. My father’s brother. The boogeyman of my childhood nursery rhymes.
What would he think of my black wings? Would he hate me on sight? Demand I repent? Would he believe me if I told him I was innocent?
Auric stepped backward, forcing me to move as well. I went to stand beside the bed while he took up the middle of the room, his arms still folded and his wings unfurled in all their pristine greatness. Minus the blood staining his feathers. He’d refused to clean up in our cell, too agitated by the events outside to do anything other than brood and demand an audience with the Reformer.
Well, it seemed that’d worked wonders.
I swallowed as the male in question stepped through the threshold, his black eyes and dark hair so different from my father’s blond strands and crystal-blue eyes. But their facial structures were similar, their cheekbones regal and their chins forming a sharp point.
Only Sayir’s white wings were tipped with black, while my father’s feathers remained unblemished.
The Reformer’s gaze fell to me first, his midnight irises roaming over me in a wave of distaste before settling on the Nora Warrior. “Auric,” he greeted.
