Caz comes storming out of the hall and charges into the room, Devlen quickly on his heels. “Caz–”
He tears a stool from their kitchen area, dragging it in front of me to sit down. “What are they?” He demands, his finger pointing again at my shackles. “I asked you before, and then you stabbed me and took off. Which doesn’t make me feel too thrilled about you being in my house.”
“Actually, you asked, I ignored, I took off, you pulled my hair – not very nice by the way tsk tsk tsk,” he scoffs at my placating tone, “andthenI stabbed you. But only because you pulled my hair.” My brow cocks up at both of them.
“Who are you?” Devlen breathes.
Caz huffs, turning back to look at Devlen, “this is pointless.”
“Miss… you said you needed help getting to the border. We can’t do that if you don’t help us a little bit first.”
I look between the two of them, a chuckle slipping past my lips. “Is he this trusting with everyone?” The question is directed at Caz, who just folds his arms across his chest, disengaging. “Look, does your helprequireyou to know who orwhatI am?”
Both of them stiffen at the latter half of that question. “Just put her outside if she doesn’t want to be agreeable. She can find her own way to the border.” He huffs.
“No offense, Miss. But you don’t seem to be in any condition to trek through a city like Sabel on your own.”
What a disappointment.
I sigh, resigning myself fully to the situation. Caz gives me all of two minutes before he starts to get up, and Devlen throws him a pleading look.
“They’re mage shackles,” I call.
Caz stops in his tracks, and Devlen turns back to face me. “Mage shackles?”
I nod, rattling my wrists around so the two clank together. “They’re made to bind a Wielder’s magic to them. Render them fucking useless.” The words come out bitter.
“So you’re not–”
“I’m not local, no.”
His stare turns even more critical as the lines on his strikingly pale face furrow deeper, both white brows pulling taut. “So we ask again. Who? Are. You?”
I feel my dearly missed, cruel smile inch its way up my cheeks.Though without my tendrils I doubt it has the same effect. “The Queen of Obsidian,” I answer, rising from my seat. “And it’s time I go home.”
Caz practically dragged Devlen out of the room, leaving me to listen to their muffled shouting a second time.
That got boring very quick and I decided to move over and into their kitchen. Propping myself up onto their counter, I reach over the edge and pull open their drawers. To my luck, one of the many I’d opened contained a knife.
“Oooh,” I coo, spinning it between my fingertips. The blade slips easily underneath the band, and I start to saw back and forth.
“Great, she has a knife.”
A smirk plays on the corners of my lip, and I toss the tool. Based on the gasp, I’m assuming I landed my mark. My eyes lift to discover the mark I landed was Caz’s shirt, now attached to the wall by the knife tip. “Never said I was meant to be a house guest. Now, could one of you find some sort of newfangled tool in this place, and break these off?”
Caz grabs hold of the hilt and pulls the knife out, freeing himself. “We arenotbreaking those off of you,” he snaps, waving the knife in my direction before whirling on his companion, “we arenotbreaking those off of her.”
“Why… not?”
He turns bright red, his eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets and onto the floor. “Wha–why not? She is aWielderDevlen.”
“I’m also a queen,” I add, picking up some strange red fruit and biting into it.
“Caz. She told us what you wanted. She just wants to go home.”
I take another obnoxiously loud bite of the overripe fruit and bob my head up and down. “Yes, Caz. I just want to go home – you should listen to Devlen. It would make this much easier. You don’t want me here, and Ireallydon’t want to be here.”
“Get off my counter.”
