Cassian ground his jaw.
Do not intervene in mortal affairs.
He swiveled in his stool to face straight ahead, glaring at the shelves of liquor, and took a swig.
“Upstairs will do fine. What d'ya say, la?—”
A harshthudcut him off.
Cassian turned his head.
A stranger held the man bent over a table, the side of his face pressed against the surface, his arm twisted behind his back. He was trapped by the stranger’s hold on his head—fingers decorated with rings.
The woman stood off to the side, her arms hugging her torso, cheeks flushed.
The bar grew silent. All eyes were on them.
Cassian studied the stranger’s profile, their raven-black strands, longer now, grown past their shoulders, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes.
There were no signs of anger or excitement on Finnian’s face as he stared down at the back of the man’s head. “I’d be wise and leave her alone, or else I might think of ways to rid you ofyourhearing.”
Of course,hewould be the one to interfere with mortal squabbles. Although his aloofness was impressive, it provoked a need in Cassian to locate his triggers and draw out emotion.
“Ya right bastard, when I get outta this….” The man spit out, furious, attempting to buck up and out of Finnian’s hold.
“I’d advise you to avoid laying your filthy hands on those who do not request it.”
“I’ll fucking kill ya!” the man snarled.
Finnian slanted forward, resting beside his ear. “Only after I boil your insides with one of my potions.”
The man’s body stiffened in response, proving he wasn’t completely ignorant. Fear swallowed the glaze in his pupils as they flung around, trying to see Finnian’s face from the angle he was stuck in. “I-I apologize, mate.”
Satisfied, Finnian pushed away from the man, releasing him.
The man straightened, avoiding Finnian’s gaze, and quickly left the tavern.
Voices began to mingle. Glasses clinked in the room once more.
Cassian took another drink to blend in, closely watching the young god out of the corner of his eye. Despite not being able to sense his aura, Cassian couldn’t decide if Finnian presenting himself with so little glamor was bold or reckless.
Finnian turned his focus onto the woman, and his eyes fell on the bruises blotting her wrists. His hard shell of an expression softened, and he brought his hands between them in swift, practiced motions that were lost on Cassian.
However, Cassian couldn’t stop watching the glint of Finnian’s rings as his fingers shifted and formed shapes. The backs of his hands were smooth and the shade of a sun-ripened walnut, with a river of veins running beneath his skin. Long, dexterous fingers. Well-manicured fingernails.
He averted his eyes to the woman. Whatever was communicated brought a grin to her face as she signed something back.
Finnian gave a crooked smile in response, along with a light laugh Cassian wouldn’t have heard if he hadn’t been eavesdropping with his divine hearing.
A low flutter in his belly took him by surprise, and he slightly tilted his head, noting how the sliver of emotion drew lines around the young god’s eyes and filled out the hollowness of his cheeks.
Apparently, there was more to him than Cassian had seen in the apothecary. Infuriatingly cocky and a defiant bastard, yes, but evidently he had some admirable traits, like being considerate, valiant even.
Finnian bid farewell to the woman and exited the tavern.
Curiosity was a fickle thing.
Cassian did not want to admit that Finnian had caught his attention, therefore he simply told himself he would only investigate the matter further before cursing him. Observe him a bit longer, maybe tail him back to his lair to find it stocked full of suffering souls, or a following of mages who, too, could bring back the dead.
