If you ask The Devourer, he would say he’s guilty. And he is, I know this as fact. But I can’t help butfeelthere’s more that needs to be discovered about the man with the shadow band tattoo.
“I’m not sure, honestly.”
I turn to face him for the first time, and I see concern dancing in his eyes.
The prospect of them using him for their own satisfaction makes ice fill my veins.Using him. Just as King Euron has done for gods know how long.
“How long has King Euron kept you as his executioner?” The question pops out before I can stop myself.
“I have been at the king’s side for over two hundred turns.”
“Say that again?” The tinge of disbelief settles wrong on my tongue. I’m almost positive I didn’t hear him right because that can’t be possible.
“I have been by King Euron’s side for two hundred turns, give or take a few.”
A feeling of uncertainty washes over me and I can’t tell if he’s mocking me somehow.
“Kassiel, I don’t understand your meaning. How old are you saying you are if you’ve supposedly been by the king’s side for that long?”
Looking at him now, he doesn’t look over thirty turns. His chiseled jaw, dusted with the starting of a beard is still youthful and muscular, his skin practically unwrinkled except the beginnings of age in the corners of his eyes. If I compared him to Caym who was nearly thirty—six, Kassiel was definitely younger.
“I’m nearly two hundred and sixty—nine turns.”
If he thinks he’s somehow lightening the tension between us, he’s doing the opposite. In fact, it nearly has me shoving him off the back end of Dahla.
The twinkle in his green eyes feels sharp, though when he sees my expression, he quickly narrows the mossy pools.
“I know it sounds absurd, but I would not lie to you.” I level my stare across the rest of his body, taking inventory. His disheveled hair makes him look more rakish in this lighting as it frames his face. Without his leather tie holding back the onyx curtain, he looks as decadent as sin itself.
His broad shoulders straighten with my observations, presumably seeing that I’m not so willing to accept his story.
“How?” My voice is low, cold and unfeeling.
“Rune. He’s a Rhwym.”
I just continue to stare at him blankly.
The Devourer’s bold brow lifts and he says, “You haven’t heard of that rarity, I assume?”
“Is it that obvious?” I let the sarcasm drip with each word.
“He’s someone who can bind the will of another, or in more disturbing cases, someone’s soul. It’s an ancient magic from long ago bloodlines.”
The clattering of rocks rolling down our direction brings my attention past Kassiel and Caym comes shuffling into view.
“We’ll talk about this later.” I rush the whisper out, eager for Caym to not hear me. Whatever this new information reveals, I’m oddly protective of it, ofhim.
The Devourer drops his chin ever so slightly, his eyes searching mine for an answer.
A loud caw reverberates against the stone and Kina’s dark form flies overhead. The bird continues onwards, stretching her ebony wings in the wide cavern.
“She must be excited to be home,” Kassiel says, watching the raven get smaller in the distance.
A noncommittal grunt is his answer as Caym rides faster down the slope. “Leeson should be right behind me, so move your ass.”
I roll my eyes at Caym. “Well you’re clearly in a good mood.”
“The promise of a bed just out of reach is enough to make even you irritable.”
