I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I loved Collum, but she had been nothing but delusional since she had arrived, in chains, to Adis’s compound. “And you never thought they might have strong opinions because of how dangerous magic is?”
“Ha.” Collum snorted. “Shows what you know. All the really dangerous powers, the ones that allow you to speak someone’s death, or force someone to love you with just a few smooth words, have unfortunately been gone for a long time. Likely burned in the pyres before either of us were born.”
I gulped. I had grown up knowing almost nothing of magic, and now that I knew of it, the thought of a spell that could kill someone or make them fall in love with you sounded terrible. Like something I wouldn’t want to search for. But I kept thosethoughts to myself, knowing Collum and I were on different pages here. “Magic can do that?”
Collum turned to me, her eyes glassy. “Magic can do anything. It’s the ultimate power. And it’s unfortunate the earth only doles it out one book at a time.”
The way her eyes flickered as the words left her lips made me swallow, hard, sending a prickle down the back of my neck. I knew, in that moment, without a doubt, that if either of the powers Collum had spoken of existed, I didn’t want them anywhere near my cousin. Even if the alternative meant my death.
When the sun set the following night, I was already drained. Reading took a lot out of me, and I was eager to hear Collum read that night to the servants—to give my poor aching voice a break.
The waiting moments stretched as we anticipated the eventual dash down the hall. We had run out of things to talk about, something I never could have foreseen happening in our life before Adis. That is, until I realized I didn’t know my cousin like I thought I did.
Then it was time, and we snuck out, careful to step over Syrus, who was asleep at our door. I didn’t know how to tell Collum that, had we waited long enough, they usually left our door in the middle of the night anyway, but I doubted she would have listened to me.
She didn’t listen to me at all anymore.
Then again, maybe she never had, and I just hadn’t noticed.
There was a pinch in my chest at that thought.
As we entered the kitchen side by side, I couldn’t help but adjust the edge of my bind. Though we were only meeting the servants, it was safer for me to be dressed as Milo—less of a chance of our secretgetting out.
The kitchen appeared much like it had the first night I had peered inside, though this time, the area across from the wall of ovens was bare, the large worktable moved aside by two male servants I had never seen before. As they were maneuvering, the one on the left looked up, his eyes connecting with mine, and a shiver shot down my spine.
As quickly as it happened, his attention was drawn elsewhere, leaving me to gawk at his sandy blond hair and muscular frame. His eyes were blue, but not a pale blue, a deep one, like the sky I rarely saw anymore.
Servants filed in little by little, most still cautious, though I knew the guards were definitely asleep. Syrus hadn’t even flinched when we had stepped over his body. I felt guilty about it, even though I knew I shouldn’t.
Many of the servants glanced at me in a way that made me feel as if they knew too much about me. It was so off-putting that I found myself shrinking toward the wall, toward the shadows, which would hide me and the tell-tale golden rim in my irises.
“She didn’t drag you here, did she?”
I startled, my head jolting up to notice that it was the man who had moved the table. He was leaning against the wall next to me, mirroring my body, a grin on his lips. I took notice of his clothing, which was different from the soldier uniform I wore. He was taller than me, but not as tall as General Otho.
“I work in the stables,” he explained, likely having noticed the path of my eyes.
“That’s nice,” I replied in Milo’s voice. Though the pitch was correct, my voice didn’t sound strong at all, not after the abuse of the entire day of forced reading.
“Difficult day?” he asked, his eyes seeming to bore a hole in my face.
I bit my lip. I wasn’t usually this shy around men, as I was normally one of them, but something about this particular male was increasing the rate at which my heart beat, a small bead of sweat gathering on my forehead.
Somewhere, in the background, Collum was speaking, giving directions to the servants for what was about to happen—but I couldn’t break my gaze away from the man next to me. Something stirred to life in my abdomen. Something I hadn’t felt since the last time I spoke with Roger, the butcher’s son.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he prodded playfully, reminding me that I hadn’t answered in far too long.
“Sorry.” The apology slipped out. “It was a rough day.”
His lip quirked up at the corner. “Figures. Adis is one of the worst households I’ve worked for, so I’m not surprised.”
I nodded, not wanting to mention that I was here by force. If I could work anywhere else, I would.
“I’m Leif.” He moved his hand in the manner of Ralheim greeting, something that felt too formal for our current situation. “And you are?”
“Milo,” I answered automatically. “Sorry, I’m not much for talking.” I felt the color climbing up my cheeks. I didn’t know how else to explain why I couldn’t seem to talk to this man. Or stop comparing him to what I remembered of my childhood crush.
“No need to apologize. I know I come on strong.”
