Page 70 of The Last Slayer
I felt safe…until Ramiel slowly, silently pulled away.
I was afraid to say anything. This was new territory. I’d never experienced this kind of connection with someone, and I was terrified of ruining it with words.
The moment stretched unbearably. Finally Ramiel took a step back, his expression turning empty. I desperately wanted to stem whatever was causing the emotion to drain from his face, hold him tight so that there could still be something between us. But my courage failed. Fear of rejection gripped me, as paralyzing as a tranq spell.
“Nahemah will try something at dinner,” he said, his voice flat. “When she does, bring out your blade and use it.”
I shrugged helplessly, confused at his choice of subject but still too timid to talk to him about what had just happened. Finally I said, “I don’t have it. I gave it to you.”
“All of us carry one inside. Now that you have your first heartstone, you should be able to use it.”
I gave up trying to make sense of my feelings. If he could pretend nothing had happened, so could I. “Inside.” I hoped that didn’t mean what I thought it meant…but then I remembered how Nathanael had pulled a sword out of nowhere at TriMedica.
“Yes.”
“Ah…okay. But how do I get it out?” I had a feeling it would hurt.
“Concentrate and incant.”
He murmured ancient words, every syllable pregnant with power. I focused and imitated him, my tongue tripping over the sounds like a clumsy baby learning to walk. Still, it wouldn’t do to get impatient. Mispronunciation can kill you.
“Practice,” he said. “Once you become used to it, you won’t have to incant. The thought alone will be enough.”
I nodded. I’d practice, but I wasn’t sure if I would be ready to use it in less than two hours.
He brought his wing close to his body. It folded impossibly smaller and smaller until it burrowed deep under his shoulder, just like Apollyon’s had at TriMedica. He flicked a finger and the blood vanished from the floor
. A loose crimson feather floated up and disappeared. “I’d prefer you didn’t tell Nahemah what you just saw. She doesn’t know, and I’d like to keep it that way.”
He turned and left. I stood for a moment, irresolute about whether to go after him or not. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to hear him say. Finally I sighed and went back to my bath. The whole episode, along with the wing and the sword-inside-my-body, had left me shaken. It meant I was more like a supernatural than a mortal, and I had no idea how to deal with that.
I decided to concentrate on first things first: surviving the dinner with Nahemah and rescuing Valerie. Maybe my subconscious would have some time to work things out and give me some answers.
I’d toweled off and incinerated all the loose hair from the bathtub by the time Charity reentered the cottage. Had she heard me and Ramiel? Her demeanor didn’t indicate one way or the other. Maybe he’d done something to soundproof the cottage while he’d been in there.
She moved gracefully across the cool white stone floor, bowed and took the damp towel from me. “Would you like another?”
“No, thank you.”
She draped a sheer silk bathrobe over my body. “Allow me to help you dress for dinner. Weston is preparing the banquet of the century for you.” She flashed a quick smile, but her fussing made me feel like a department store mannequin.
I was starting to feel restless, despite the bath…and the sex. I have no patience with being groomed for hours. Hell, I don’t even like shopping unless I’m buying shoes. Or weapons.
Besides, Nahemah didn’t strike me as someone who did anything without a reason. She was staging something, but I wasn’t sure what.
I was just thinking that I didn’t have anything suitable for “the banquet of the century” when Charity straightened and snapped her fingers. A ridiculously long row of liliths in simple Grecian tunics appeared, each carrying a dress. Even after excluding the pearls and jewels sewn into them, the fabrics alone must’ve cost a fortune.
“These are Mistress’s personal seamstresses, all one hundred of them, at your service.”
The liliths bowed at Charity’s introduction. One hundred? Jeez. How big was Nahemah’s closet?
“They have made these dresses especially for you,” Charity said. “Mistress hopes one of them will be acceptable.”
The liliths held out their dresses and filed past. Every one was breathtaking—vivid colors, silk, satin, laces, velvet and so much more in an infinite variety of styles. If Valerie had been there, I would’ve had to wipe the drool from her chin.
Valerie…
“Mistress will allow you to keep what you wear. But you can choose only one.”
