I seem to remember there were a lot of temples where people were decapitated, and their heads were thrown down hundreds of steps.
If I’m going to be a temple, I would like to be the murder flavor.
Come to think of it, I think bathing in Leon’s blood would do fabulous things for my skin.
“I am adoring this quality time together and our conversations.” He looks genuinely pleased as he says it.
I’m pretty sure I’ve said all of ten words since he’s returned. It’s good to know exactly where the bar sits in terms of ‘good conversation.’
Six feet under.
The bar is six feet under.
“However,” Leon continues, interlacing his fingers with mine and pulling me to stand, “I cannot allow you to continue to distract me. We have important duties to attend to today. But do not despair, my love,” he adds, kissing my hand. “We will still take every opportunity to work onus. I won’t be leaving your side.”
Chapter 9
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule nine:Never squander an opportunity to shatter the male ego.
Whoever said that mobs were fickle nailed it. And honestly, I’m kind of here for it.
Whatever credit Leon bought for himself yesterday when he saved the castle and won the damsel in distress (barf) is apparently old news.
Leon holds my hand as he leads us down yet another maze of corridors. He hasn’t bothered to tell me where we’re going, and since I’m not allowed to speak without his permission, I can’t ask.
The halls around our bedrooms are deserted, but the moment we enter a hall a few floors down, it’s bustling with people. I’m assuming this area is open to the public.
As usual, everyone is dressed like they’re about to attend a ball and lose a glass slipper, but today, there’s one significant difference. The people are hungry forgossip.
We’ve barely made it down a single corridor, and already, we’ve been stopped by three well-wishers. It seems everyone is curious about their new Creator and whatever juicy details I may have about Sin.
While being the center of attention is definitely not my idea of a good time, I’ve been doing my best to leave a good impression. If I do manage to take down Need, not being hated by the mob might increase my chances of survival.
My efforts are aided by the fact that Leon absolutely hates not being the center of attention. It turns out that my petty side outweighs my social awkwardness, because with each encounter, I’ve wordlessly encouraged more questions.
Meanwhile, Leon has grown more agitated when his repeated efforts to steer the conversation back to his own heroic efforts have failed. Every time, the well-wishers have offered him dismissive gratitude, and their attention hasn’t wavered from their new, shiny Creator.
Nailed it.
“You poor darling. How in the Fates did you survive the Shadow Realm?” A woman asks, looking down at me with concern. She’s almost as tall as Leon, and her short silver hair matches her shimmering silver gown. While I can’t be sure, I think she might be from the Beast Realm. Her eyes are bright yellow and look almost lupine.
As usual, Leon answers, while I give the woman a knowing, mysterious smile. I tried out the look on the last well-wisher, and they looked positively scandalized. They immediately had a ton more questions.
“She was terrified, of course, but she knew I would rescue her,” Leon answers for me in a pompous, self-important tone.
The woman, who introduced herself as Ragna, raises a brow at Leon before lifting her chin and staring down at me.
A moment passes.
And then another. Yet still, she stares some more, not saying a word.
Unease ripples through me. Beyond the fact that it’s a bit of an awkward move, there’s something about her stare that’s uncomfortable – like something is compelling me to look down.
My spine stiffens.
I beg your finest pardon?
