He handed it to me. It was surprisingly heavy and made a pleasant papery sound as it transferred from his palm into mine.
“Stellara,” he said gruffly. His eyes strayed past me, the line of his lips taking on an impatience that struck me as irritated. “At least, one of the attempts at mapping it.”
“Thank you,” I breathed, surprised that he’d helped me. He had no reason to. “Why…why did you—”
“Why did you turn down the offer I made you?” came his sudden question. Cold. To the point. One moment, he’d seemed impatient to leave. The next, I had his full attention, and I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it.
My spine straightened. My lips parted.
Because Lesana made me a better one,I thought.And then threatened me.
But I couldn’t say that.
“I’m not interested in being a blood giver,” I told him instead. Quietly. Lowering my voice even though the other patrons in the archives were aisles away. They likely didn’t even know theKyzairewas in here.
It was a half-truth. But I had to tell him something.
He wasn’t satisfied with that answer.
“You think it would be painful?” he asked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“You think it would be demeaning?”
“No,” I said sharply. “My father was half-Kylorr—how could you ask me that?”
He seemed surprised by my words, which had been unguarded by politeness. I swallowed down my apology, however, which clung to the tip of my tongue.
Then he did something I hadn’t expected.
He smiled.
It was more of a smirk, truly. But I saw that his fangs were elongated as if he was hungry even now. Our eyes connected and held.
And then theyheld.
For a moment, I felt like we’d been transported back to last night. Out in the courtyard of RaanaDyaan, with the stars bright overhead, golden light gleaming off his wings from the Halo orbs in the lounge. I swore I could smell that cool breeze coming from the South. My breath felt caught in my throat. My heart was jolting out a strong, melodic beat. Kythel’s eyes traced the lines of my face. His feet drew closer. Mine must’ve too.
His smile slowly died.
“What will it take?” he asked me quietly.
I nearly closed my eyes, feeling thepullof that voice. Hearing him speak made the hairs on my arms raise, made the back of my throat tingle like I’d eaten something too sweet. Rich and resonant, his voice made the world tilt sideways.
I’d listened to bards across the Quadrants recite stories and poetry in languages much more beautiful than mine. I’d listened to symphonies composed entirely with instruments I would never be able to learn, simply because I didn’t have enough hands or fingers or mouths to play them with. I’d listened to mournful crooners on street corners, spilling their souls onto unsuspecting strangers as they passed.
Still, nothing had ever felt so beautiful as his voice.
I didn’t understand it. In fact, I felt a little fearful of it, a skitter of trepidation spiraling up my spine.
“What?” I breathed. The archives rushed back in. I smelled dust and parchment again. I realized I’d stopped breathing for a moment as I dragged in a greedy lungful of air.
Dazed, I turned and walked a few paces away. Kythel allowed me to leave the tight circle we’d—unconsciously—made. I felt like I could breathe again. Something was clenched in my fist. Ah, yes. The scroll. The map of Stellara. Why I’d come.
His voice followed after me when he continued with, “What will it take for you to be my blood giver, Millie Seren? Name your price, and it is yours.”
My breath froze in my lungs.
