I walked away without answering him.
Instead, I sat down at one of the long tables in the unclaimed recruits’ section. I had been one of the first ones in when the door opened today; I’d hoped to eat and get out before someone could try to make me mop.
Besides, I was excited about the pile of food on my plate, not that I ever would have admitted it. Among the shifters, every day was solstice.
All I wanted was be left alone to shovel cake into my mouth and read the book that had banged against my leg with every step, tucked into my tunic pocket. I was only a few chapters away from the ending. I was torn between desperation to read the ending and the desire to drag it out for another thousand years.
When I felt someone looming over me, I held my spot with a finger as I looked up.
Three shifters stared down at me. One female, with intricate silver braids, a big brawler of a male, and a beautiful, polished man with pale blond hair whose shadow fell over me. All three of them wore the plain black tunics of those who were still unclaimed, like me.
Did I need to put my book down for this?
The blond tilted his head, studying me like I was something unpleasant stuck to his boot.
“What are you doing here, mortal?” His tone was almost lazy, but his gaze was sharp enough to cut.
“What am I doing?” I looked for Fieran, so I could point at him and tell them he was the one to ask. Not only because he was the creator of all this trouble, but because they gave off a distinctly intimidating vibe. Fieran, unfortunately, was my protection.
“Iven, she doesn’t even know!” the female shifter cried to the big brawler in evident entertainment.
I didn’t see Fieran in the crowd, though I caught a glimpse of Asrael standing over at Bismyth’s tables, his gaze sweeping the room. There was no sign of Fieran on the mezzanine where he sometimes stood in judgment of us all.
Of course the one time I wanted Fieran, he was missing.
“There’s a rumor about you,” the blond said.
“There’s half a dozen rumors,” the female shifter corrected. “ThatFear purchased you from the Night Market–as his experiment, or his doll, or that he saved you because he loves you…” Her lips twisted into a sneer.
Oh, joy. Were these the shifters who shared my disdain for Fieran? But instead of bonding with me, they wanted to hurt me to hurt him.
“But there’s also a rumor that you are dragon-marked.” The blond cut through all the dark rumors that seemed to delight the female shifter so much. “That you sit at this table because you belong here.”
He almost spat that last.
Perhaps Fear was wrong about Maura’s eagerness to prove her loyalty.
“Well?” Iven asked impatiently. “Can you shift?”
“We’ll find out!” I said brightly.
“Or you’ll burn,” he sneered.
“So I’ve heard.” The thought made my heart pound when I usually thought about it, but adrenaline was already flooding my veins.
“You don’t belong here.” Iven spoke slowly, as if I must be thick-witted.
“I know.” They seemed to think that very obvious fact was an insult.
“How dare you eat our food? Sit at our tables like you’re one of us?” His mouth curved, slow and cruel.
The big brawler suddenly lashed out and knocked my plate away. I grabbed for it, too late, my hands slapping the table uselessly.
The three of them burst into laughter, amused by my slow reflexes. The plate clattered onto the floor and left frosting streaked across the shiny marble.
“Here, we fight and die for you mortals, and you dare to walk in our midst.” His face twisted with contempt, and the female shifter touched his arm, giving him a worried look, full of sympathy.
My heart raced. I’d only seen shifters—dangerous as they were—in protective mode, except for Maura’s beating. These three were staring at me with ire as if I were one of the monsters.
