I always know where he is.
I swagger toward him, crouching down next to him.
Lanlin is wearing an all-black outfit, as if he likes to feel he’s flying in the night sky. He is hunkered to the side of the training ground.
When I hear low squeaking, I stiffen.
Rats.
Lanlin leans closer over the rats, whispering to them.
He reaches to pet one.
How can he be gentle with such deadly iron claws?
I shudder, remembering the feel of rats like those in Bael clambering up my legs and biting my ankles, as well as the squeaking and hissing of amillionfurious rats, accompanied by the screams of the people of Bael writhing beneath them.
Still, as an assassin, I must admit that animals would be brilliant allies on a mission.
A spider’s bite? Wasp’s sting?
So many creative ways to kill, which your marks would never see coming.
Is it worse to kill someone off a battlefield than on it? Is it worse to kill one person to end the slaughter of a thousand innocents?
Let the Shadow Devils condemn me and not anyone who hasn’t fought and bled to protect their world from descending into hell.
The true monsters are those who watch and do nothing, while pretending to be good.
I’m not good.
I warned Aurelius from the start that I was the villain.
Why did he never believe me?
I adjust the simple, white kilt that Lanlin laid out for me in the early evening. My chest and legs are bare.
“So that you can move better,” Lanlin told me. “You can’t fight wearing those pretty robes. I don’t want to hurt you…too badly.”
I smirked. “In your dreams, Bat King.”
Suddenly, the hairs rise on the back of my neck.
My gaze shoots toward the barracks.
I fight not to laugh.
The Eternals must be stealthily peering through at Lanlin and me like children trying to watch the grownups.
I can’t blame them for wanting to watch the first fight between their King and his fae mate.
They probably want to see Lanlin kick my arse.
I clench my jar.
To hell with that.
“We have an audience.” I attempt to hide the laughter in my voice.
