Arim, the mightiest sorcerer in all the land, according to Cadmus’ whispered sidenote, sat across from me on a leather recliner, sitting and staring as if I were a school science project.
I stared back, startled to note that he looked at me with the same expression Marcus normally used at the office. Heat settled over my cheeks despite my attempt to appear unfazed by the powerful sorcerer.
I glared when a hint of a smile curled his lips.
“So you’re a siphon.” He nodded, as if the concept made perfect sense to him.
He knew of my ability? It had a name?
“Yes, I’m aware of the ability, rare though it is. What an odd coincidence you knew its name.”
I blinked. Had he just read my mind?
“Yes, I did. But as spellcasters consider it a trespass, I shall try to refrain from doing so again. Wouldn’t want to get the River Prince in a tizzy.”
His fathomless black eyes crinkled, and though he didn’t outwardly grin, I knew he laughed on the inside.
“River Prince?”
“Marcus,” he clarified. “Commander of the waters, bringer of life. He shall rule the south once he finds what he seeks.”
“And what would that be?”
“Marcus, glad you’re back,” Cadmus said loudly, interrupting the conversation. “Arim and Tessa were just getting acquainted.”
Arim turned his amusement toward Marcus, affording me a chance to study him better. As I watched the dark-eyed sorcerer, I found it unnerving how much he reminded me of Marcus. Same piercing stare, same arrogant mannerisms, same aristocratic features.
A clear difference in height had Arim a few inches taller than the Storm brothers. A veritable giant. Yet it wasn’t his height so much as his presence that threatened.
“Arim,” Marcus said.
I watched the two clench forearms in lieu of a handshake. Arim mentioned Darius and Samantha, the missing brother and his wife, and they talked about goingson in Tanselm.
I watched Marcus far more than I liked but couldn’t stop myself. Because I had no willpower, staring at the jerk, I’d only half-heard his conversation when the word “affai,” mentioned several times, perked my interest.
“What did you say?”
Arim looked over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude you, Tessa. I was merely informing Marcus and his brothers about Darius and his affai, Samantha.”
Samantha had married Darius, that I knew. So Samantha was his wife, his love. His affai? But Marcus had called me his affai. Just after making love, he’d hugged me close and nuzzled my cheek, whispering lovely words in that foreign, lyrical language.
Ah. Affai likely meant “sweetheart.” Then what did “sertia” mean? I wanted to ask, but the unnerving stares from the Storm brothers made me hesitate.
“Something on your mind, Tessa?” Aerolus glanced at Marcus, who stared at me with an odd hunger. Too bad that hunger hadn’t precluded his obnoxious attitude earlier.
What the hell? If my question made him uncomfortable, so be it. I was already uncomfortable after nearly blasting his friend with God-knew whose powers.
“As a matter of fact,” I began slowly, fixated on Marcus’ too-calm face. “I was wondering if you could translate a few words for me.”
Marcus looked alarmed.
“Ask away,” Arim answered, his tone even though I’d swear I felt amusement radiating off him.
“What does sertia mean?”
“Sertia?” Cadmus repeated with surprise. “It’s a compliment. Roughly translated, it means comely lover.” A dimple appeared on his left cheek. “It’s usually used in context with a woman, a very sexy, entrancing woman.” He wiggled his brows at me.
Marcus frowned. “Relax, Cadmus. I swear, you’re in heat.”
