In that single moment, I took in a long breath through my nostrils, imagining my lungs expanding. I caught a hint of leathery musk—spicy and earthy and oddly calming—only to realize it washim. That was his scent.
“Who are you?” he asked. I had the strangest realization that he had memorized every last word I’d spoken of Gwytri, that he was filing it away like he had the mind of Halo tech.
“Millie,” I said, my tone edging on uncertainty. “I told you last night. Millie Seren.”
“And how did you come to be in Erzos, Millie Seren?” he asked, those winter-sea eyes unyielding.
My name on his tongue made a shiver trail up my spine, like ghostly fingers were tracing my skin. “I have a residency contract, if that’s what you’re asking.”
His brow furrowed. “No, that’s not what I’m asking.”
“Oh.”
I cleared my throat. My gaze went to the stacks of books in front of me. A few titles were written out in the universal tongue. My language.
“By caravan,” I answered, giving him a sly smile as I edged farther down the aisle. “After landing in the transport depot. The one that borders Vyaan.”
His left wing twitched.
“You know what I meant, little one,” came his gravelly voice. “I did not mean how you physically came to be here. I want to knowwhyyou came here.”
I shrugged one shoulder, unable to get a read on him. He reminded me of a cyborg in some ways. A pillar of a machine. Stoic. Unemotional. Cold.
Yet he’d asked for you,I thought.He wants you.
“My father used to live in Erzos,” I finally told him, sliding my gaze to him to see how he’d react. “He was a culinarian. He…he worked for a noble family here. House Loria. Long ago.”
If Kythel reacted to that name, he certainly didn’t show it.
“Perhaps you know them?” I asked hopefully, studying his expression.
Was it my imagination, or did his jaw tighten?
At least he didn’t touch his heart, nor did his wings rustle.
“Not many humans were allowed within the Kaalium back then,” he said instead, and I heard the unspoken question in the comment. Tactful, yes…but present.
I huffed out a small breath, deciding to take my chances by turning my back on aKyzaire. I walked ahead, navigating down the next aisle, this one wide enough to allow a Kylorr to walk freely. Behind me, I heard his footsteps follow.
“My father was half-Kylorr,” I said softly. “He was born in Erzos.”
“Youare part Kylorr?” came the roughened question. Surprising enough that it made me turn to regard him. His eyes scanned me head to toe. “You don’t look it.”
“No, I don’t,” came my sharp reply, sharper than I’d intended, but this subject had always made me a bit defensive—and likely always would. “Because I am not a Kylorr. But he was my father nonetheless.”
Kythel studied me carefully, his chin dipped down.
“I understand,” he finally said, his tone oddly soft. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“You didn’t,” I said, though they were just polite words. Words I didn’t truly feel. I was used to it. The speculation. The wary glances cast my father’s way, especially when they’d seen a Kylorr traveling with a young human girl. The looks had always been the worst on the smaller transport colonies. Little had they known, my father had been myeverything. My whole world. He hadn’tneededto love me. He hadchosento. “You couldn’t have known.”
An uncomfortable silence descended between us. I felt the time stretching and stretching, scratching over my skin.
“Come,” Kythel ordered. Then he turned his back, sweeping down the aisle and disappearing around the next corner.
Hesitantly, I followed. For one so large, he moved silently. So much so that I feared I’d lost him within the aisles until I heard him say, “Here.”
I found him standing next to one of the only bookcases in the archives that held stacks of scrolls, all bound in brown leathery twine, the edges of their parchment frayed and torn. He plucked a scroll straight from the middle of the stack, one that looked, to me, like any other.
