I nod. Avian’s soft smile is reassuring, and I feel like an idiot when I return the gesture to the blind man.
Should I be telling him when I smile? When I nod? What is the protocol here? Why am I like this?
Zilo’s confidence in me wanes when he spots me shaking my head at myself and mumbling quietly about the blonde leading the blind.
“You can do this, right?” Zilo dips his head into my line of sight. “We picked you for a reason.”
“Because I’m pretty. I get it.” My mouth slams together hard.
“Yes but no. Your unique beauty will get his attention. Your mouth will intrigue him—”
Avian smiles harder, and it’s then that I know they have inside jokes about me.
The fur-holes.
“And it’s your fighter background that will keep you alive in all this. Your inability to shift is a hazard to yourself, but you’ve more than made up for it in your life. You’re a survivor. It isn’t just your beauty, Cersia.” His big hand lands on my shoulder, and I feel a tingle of pride from his words.
It’s short-lived.
“So don’t fuck up,” he adds with total seriousness. And then he too slams the door in my face.
Nice pep talk.
“Right,” I whisper to myself.
“You’ll be great,” Avian says smoothly.
“Great,” I echo, still staring at the glossy black door.
It’s a tranquil daze that skips beyond time, and I just can’t snap out of it. I know I’d be more capable if I had my beast to rely on. I almost shifted once…but my father stopped me. I don’t remember why, but I remember the feeling of fear.
I still feel that consuming fear every time I try to shift.
I’m lost in those thoughts. Until something very similar to a snap clicks twice in my ear. My head twitches as a shudder skims through me, and I slowly turn to the boyish man standing behind me with that same casual smile tilting his lips.
He stands shirtless, his broad chest seeming even wider in the dim candlelit lighting of the room. He’s dressed in just black pants once again. Boots that lace up above his ankles give him a militia look. The men gave me similar pants and boots, but lucky me, I got an old tattered black shirt to go along with it.
In Avian’s right hand, he holds a little white gadget.
His thumb presses down, and once more it clicks at me in a harsh aggravating way.
“What the fuck is that annoying little box?” My lips curl hard as I speak.
“It’s a clicker trainer.” He holds it out for me to observe, as if by seeing it closer I might not want to slam it to the ground and stomp on it until it no longer resembles a box at all.
“I don’t get it.” I eye him skeptically.
I thought when Zilo saidtraining, I’d be drop-kicking Avian’s sweet little attitude to the floor by now, not discussing hardware.
“Hell’s kingdom is made up of many races, but hellhounds and wolves like yourself are the majority. Demons and hell fae coexist with us, but the Prince will not take disrespect. And so you need to learn his few common clicks.” Avian takes a few steps closer to me, and the more he explains, the more annoyed I’m becoming.
“He clicks at hellhounds?” My left eyebrow is so high it’s ready to jump ship at any moment.
“Yes.” Avian nods, and a strand of his dark hair falls over his bright silver eyes.
My teeth grind, and I try so damn hard to just listen. If I just hold my tongue, surely this won’t really be as demeaning as I’m imagining it.
Avian smiles.
