I moved to respond, but his tone of voice caught me off guard. Affection.Fondness. He did not speak of Ainwir as a hated foe, but afriend.
‘Never trust a man who smiles and offers you aid.’ Ainwir had warned. ‘Trust instead the man who bears his teeth and carries a knife. Only one is being honest.’
“I can protect you, Aethra.” He said, eyeing me intensely through his mask. “If you stay with Seraphim, you will not survive.”
“So you’ve claimed, but I don’t trust you either.”
“Did I not reveal to you the truth?” He asked. “You didn’t want to be part of this reckless mission. You became what you are out of necessity. I can offer you the solace you long for.”
Had a nobleman arrived at my door a few months ago and offered to pay my debts, I would have leapt at the opportunity. His charming conman act would have worked on anyone else.
But I was a con woman myself.
“I’d say thanks for the ride,” I spat. “But it wasn’t exactly pleasant. Fair sailing.” Turning on my heel, I strode away.
The smell of iron surged through the air as red thorns whipped around me, encircling my upper body and waist, their razor-sharp tips digging into the fabric of my dress and skin. I stumbled as they drew me back to him, spinning me around to face him.
These thorns were made ofblood. He was a chthonic mage. The god of art and luck clearly did not favor me.
The nobleman grabbed my chin and tilted my face up. “I bear no intentions to harm you.” He said evenly. “But I cannot let you return to her.”
Biting my lip, I weighed my options. Follow this man to who-knows-where, or risk death to escape.
I didn’t give my situation the thought it deserved. Something in me snapped, and I moved.
Grabbing the vines wrapped around my chest, I tore them away from me. Thorns dug into my hands, drawing blood. Pain ripped through me as I threw myself backward, trying to escape my bonds.
The nobleman’s eyes flared, and he quickly scrambled to release me from his spell. The vines fell away, and I spun on my heel and sprinted for dear life. Glancing behind me, I saw him staring at my blood in horror. He hadn’t expected me to harm myself to escape.
“Wait!” He called
Red vines grew from the blood coating my dress, whipping toward my ankle to trip me up. But they wavered at the last moment, as though afraid to touch my skin. Taking advantage of his hesitance, I slammed into the textile shop’s door, fumbled with the knob, and threw myself inside. The vines sprouting from my body caught in the door and exploded into a shower of scarlet rain.
Someone shouted in horror. I ran into a stand and knocked over a bolt of cloth in my flight. Reaching the back door, I fled into the quiet dark alley and followed the slopingpath north.
Before meeting Seraphim, I had never dealt with chthonics. Now, I understand why they were so feared. How were you supposed to fight someone who turned your own blood against you?
The world flew by in a blur. I was a child again, alone and frightened. My mother had dumped me on a street corner, promising to return, but she never did. A man had grabbed my arm, and though I was too young to understand his intentions, I knew to feel fear.
Blinking the memories from my eyes, I dove behind an empty wagon sitting in a corner by a small warehouse. Pressing my back against the stone walls, I ran my hand down my shoulder, checking my injuries.
It stung. There was a lot of blood, and I didn’t understand enough about medicine to accurately assess myself while consumed by panic.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to stop the bleeding soaking my dress. Pounding drum beats thudded against my ribs as my heart raced. Had the nobleman followed me?
Footsteps sounded on the road. Holding my breath, I crept forward and peered beneath the wagon. I caught a glimpse of white pants and boots, and quickly recognized the elaborate patterns stitched up their leather.
Rising from my hiding spot, I stumbled as pain flared through my arm. Eleos spun in my direction, sage-green eyes widening in worry as he raced to my side.
“Seas.” He gasped, hesitating to touch me. “What-”
“We need to get out of here.” I interrupted, clutching his wrist.
I managed to drag him two steps before I faltered. Blood streamed down my dress, and everything hurt. Pulling me behind the wagon, Eleos forced me down and tore my dress to examine the wound. Cuts and scrapes patterned my arms and chest where the vines had dug into my flesh, and a deep gash cut above my breast.
Eleos flinched, ripping a section of his cloak to pack the wounds before pressing down on the gash to stop the bleeding.
I wasn’t proud of the whimper that escaped my lips.
