His rough fingers brush my hair back from my sweaty face.
“Any moment with you I consider a blessing from the goddess, whether you’re wanting to kill me or not. That almost makes me want you more, to be honest. You look ravenous when you’re angry.”
My cheeks burn with his admission, though it doesn’t compare to the way they flame with what I’m about to reveal.
“One moment you’re my enemy. Someone I’m supposed to loathe, to kill. And then the next moment you’re more than anything I’d imagined. More than the hate, the hurt, the ache I feel. You’re becoming the very breath I desperately want to inhale after kissing your treacherous lips.”
A smolder forms in the way he watches me and my head begins to lighten.
Like I can’t get enough air, like I’m drowning in whatever angst filled war this is between him and I.
“Kassiel…” It comes out as a plea.
Unexpectedly, a wail comes from behind us. I quickly pull away from him, worried that the village may be under attack again.
His head snaps in the direction of the cry, acutely aware of the sound as well.
“Stay here, Alora. If there are soldiers of King Euron’s, I want you out of harm’s way.”
His rushed words are tinged with worry.
“I won’t stand idly by if innocent people are suffering.”
He glances behind his shoulder, studying me.
“Stay behind me.” He pulls my hand behind him and we’re off towards the end of the alley.
We walk quickly and quietly, trying our best to sneak up on the sorrowful cries and I quickly pull my dagger out, ready for a fight.
What I see next has my stomach almost hurling up the contents from my last meal. It’s all I can do to swallow down the bile that threatens to purge from my system.
A willowy woman wrapped in a worn blanket has sunk to her knees, cradling a small mangled frame of a boy, no older than twelve.
A sight that will haunt me more than the phantoms of the Siltar Woods.
Kassiel edges in closer, kneeling next to the woman, paying no attention to the filth that stains his trousers.
The scene is unfortunately clear, smeared by the dark images in front of me.
A boy, trampled over by a horse, his little form too delicate for such big creatures.
“What happened?” In a hushed whisper he asks the woman who chokes on her own sobs.
She continues to cry until finally gasping for breath. Moments pass, and we wait together for her to speak. They last longer than the drawn out moments as I dug my parent’s graves.
Finally, when she’s exhausted herself from her sorrow, she stops and looks at Kassiel. It doesn’t take long for her to speak his given name.
The dull eyes shutter and blink, before a small smile of defeat graces her lips.
“Devourer.” The woman doesn’t say it harshly, not like I have, but rather reverently.
His throat bobs as he inches closer. “Who did this to your boy?” he asks softly, placing one hand on hers and one on the boy’s still form.
“You know who. The one who hunts us all, even you.” She gestures to his neck where the inky band resides. I watch the interaction and wonder if the people of The Siltar Woods know more about this man before me than I do.
“When were they here? I assume it was Orlin, The Nightmare as you’ll know him, and the royal helianate? The huntsman of the king?” he asks, pressing for as much information as the grieving mother can give.
Her head drops to gaze upon her son. She gently pulls the boy’s shirt closed and straightens his clothes before sweeping her delicate fingers over the russet locks of his hair.
