“All right,” I whispered. “Can I pack some things?”
“Sure!” Nex dropped his heavy arm, but only to slap my back and send me stumbling forward.
“For fuck's sake,” Rath growled as he caught me. “He's human, Nex. Be careful.”
“Is he though?” Nex cocked his head at me. “Maybe one of his ancestors had a secret affair with a Varraen.”
“Doubtful,” Rath steadied me. “And even if that happened, offspring from the union of an immortal with a mortal are usually born infertile and without magic.”
“Strange things happen all the time.” Nex waved at me as if I were the proof.
I guess I was.
“We'll figure it out later,” Rath said. Then he asked me, “Where's your house, Ember?”
“Uh, this way.” I dragged my eyes away from Rath's face, which was even more stunning up close, then turned around and led them through the village.
As I walked, the Wraith Lords came up on either side of me, their sharp stares coasting over broken doors and windows. Rath was Varraen, but Nex had the telltale cheek scales of a Tytra, which explained his bulk. You'd think a man who could transform into a dragon would be scarier than a guy with pointed ears. But, as I mentioned, the Varraen had an affinity for all the elements, and that kind of magic was even more powerful than a giant, scaly beast, even if that beast could breathe and wield Fire. Could there have been a Varraen in my ancestry? Like Rath, I doubted it. They didn't mix with the other races, especially not humans. Even when they warred, they didn't rape their enemies. They considered it barbaric and beneath them. I would have thought well of them for that if I hadn't known it was more about their disgust for the other races than any sense of morality.
Most cities were governed by Varraen, under the Emperor's rule, of course. The Emperor who was also a Varraen. And when I say most cities, I'm referring to racially mixed cities, not those inhabited purely by one race. Human cities would be among those excluded if there had been any. But humans had been cast out of the cities years ago, at the beginning of the Corrupter's war, and didn't have the magic needed to build their own. Now, humans lived in villages or tried to make it on their alone, hiding in the ancient forests to avoid corruption.
I waved at my open front door as I entered the little, fenced-in yard, with its neat rows of tomatoes, cucumbers, and potatoes. “This is my place.”
The Wraith Lords followed me into my cottage, making it suddenly ten times smaller. Nex went to my dining table and sat down, the chair creaking ominously along with his leather. Sweet Goddess, he was big. Way over six feet and at least three hundred pounds. Rath just crossed his arms and stood by the door. Meanwhile, I looked around, wondering what I should take. I found a leather pack, then just stood in the doorway of my bedroom, the bag hanging from my hand.
I felt someone step up behind me.
“Just take what's important to you,” Rath said.
“Sure,” I whispered.
“Are you all right?” He laid a hand on my shoulder.
“Uh, not really,” I said in a cheerful tone, then glanced back at him. “I almost got corrupted today, then almost died, then almost killed the Corrupter.”
“That a lot of almost.”
“Yeah. Two out of three of them were good.”
“That's not bad.”
I grinned, stepped into my room, and slung the pack on my bed. “No, it's not.”
I got down on the floor and pulled a box out from below my bed. Inside were my treasures—gifts from my parents, their wedding rings, and the few crystals I'd saved from selling the furniture I made. There was even a fire crystal in the collection. Out of all the elemental crystals, fire was worth the most. I tossed the box in my pack. Then I went to the trunk at the foot of the bed and pulled out some fresh clothes and my spare pair of boots.
“Don't bother with the clothes or shoes,” Rath said. “We'll get you better things.”
I looked down at my boots, then over at him. “These are worn in.”
He shrugged. “Then bring them. I was just trying to help you prioritize.”
“Oh. All right.”
I put the boots in my pack and just one change of clothes—my favorite tunic, pants, socks, and undershorts. My mother said to always have clean underwear and dry socks when you travel. This would be my first trip. I looked around again. There were little things I had made to brighten the place—a carved owl, a clay vase with a dying bouquet, a polished wood tray—but nothing special. No mementos beyond those already in my pack. Oh, wait. I went to the window ledge and took the family portrait Harver Pembown had painted. It had cost me three water crystals, but he was the best artist in town and now that my parents were gone, I was glad I had commissioned it. I tucked it in my clothes and buckled the pack.
“That's all?” Rath asked.
“I . . . didn't . . . I kept to myself a lot.”
