Symbols? How much does Titus know?
“What does that mean?” I question him.
“Everett was referring to the wars that happened during the era of Broken Oaths.”
My face wrinkles.
Titus smooths it out. “He was referring to runes, Selene.” His tone is a line of chalk being stretched out along the board, emphasizing the point. He scoots forward, no longer leaning against the wall. Leaning closer, as a teacher would stand before a pupil.
“Runes,” I whisper as I look at the door.
Everett told Titus about the runes!
This mad chase for forgotten knowledge killed my brother. It’s worse knowing he died for bedtime stories.
“But you see, Selene, I think you knew this,” Titus reports. Accusation weighs his voice down. “I watched you bite your tongue before you asked what Everett told me. You looked at the door because you wanted to flee. You knew the answer.You lied.” His voice drops, low and gravelly. “Lying to me has consequences.”
He shifts onto his knees. A defense position that has my spine pulling taut. His proximity makes me feel small, petite, and dainty. My hands feel unable to lift a sword. His eyes, now like cold brown dirt, press into me, like the hands of an undug grave, warning me he'll gobble me up if I lie again.
His intuition might be his most compelling weapon.
Titus is a blade with a hidden edge.
I press my tongue against my dry inner cheek. “I didn’t want you to think Everett was mad,” I confide in shame.
“Sometimes a monster lurks so deep in the woods that only one person sees it. They manage to escape and warn their village. But the people call them mad, crazy, delusional. They don’t listen. When that monster comes, they all die, because they didn’t heed the warning.”
He rests his hand on my trembling knees. “We both need to be on the same page if we are going to survive. No more lies.”
I can’t look away from his hands. They are so large that they shield my knees, curling around the sides. “You’re asking me to show you my heart, to trust my brother’s memory with you, a stranger. I don’t have one. The flesh your fingers press into,” I flex my leg, but he holds firm, “is more like leather: dead and dried out, forced to be molded and reused.”
Why did I tell him that?
“You have a heart. It’s so deeply buried, you’ve forgotten what the sun feels like. You’re scared of the warmth because you accepted the barren wastelands of the cold. I have fire magic. I control the heat, Selene. Unearth your emotions; step outside. I won’t let the world burn you.”
“What if you burn me?” What if you betray me and Everett?
“Don’t give me a reason to.”
That’s fair.
His grip tightens. “And as for your flesh…” My heart skips a beat. “It’s not dead, merely hardened. Do not hate it for that.”
My eyes flick up, holding his sincere stare.
“That thickness kept you alive.” His grin is gentle, revealing the tips of his fangs. He presses his thumb along the inner side of my knee. “With the right amount of pressure, you can soften hardness.”
My insides melt, then flutter to life. The sensation is so raw my next heartbeat fractures me.
I drag my knees up, scared they were about to part for him.
“You only say that because you need my help.” I hug my legs to my chest.
This means nothing; he’s using you just as every man has.
“I do need your help, but I want you as a friend.”
“Why?” My eyes follow his jaw to his full, firm lips.
