A heavy sigh dropped Catseye’s shoulders. “And a handful of Red Sentinels are just beyond my gate, you say?”
“Correct. You must’ve left quite an impression on them. I was the only one willing to cross the threshold onto your property line.”
“I see. And you’re certain you don’t want to be lucky number nine on the list of rejected summonses?”
A somber tone overpowered her saccharine one, and she gestured toward the horizon. “Queen Saelihn would not have sent so many if the situation didn’t grow more dire by the week. Look around. The wind grows colder each day, and it carries the stench of death with it. An unnerving stillness settles not just over our city of Vinepool but the kingdom of Nyllmas as a whole. Don’t you see the sickly, gray hue in the sky where color used to be? The black, gnarled branches where greenery once bloomed?”
“With respect, Miss Helspira, those things happen every winter.”
Knock him out and drag him if he won’t come willingly.
A nervous laugh bubbled from her, and she turned away to take a soothing breath. She held it for one, two, three seconds. Exhale, and ... There. Calm. No matter how loud the demonic impulses roared in her head, she just had to remind herself that she was the only one who could hear them. And thank fate for that. Even her sane side sounded absolutely senseless sometimes.
No matter how much thisCatseyeprotested, failure wasn’t an option. She couldn’t let Queen Saelihn down—not when she owed her everything for welcoming Helspira and her parents into the safety of Vinepool after they had fled Chthonia. Other Red Sentinel members may have been unsuccessful, but she would prevail, and she would do it with the words and decorum of a human rather than the violent tendencies that her kind was known for. “I anticipated your reluctance, so I prepared a speech on why it’s in your best interest to accompany me.”
“Gods above.” Catseye recoiled, aghast. “You’re threatening me with a motivational speech? Diabolical.”
Helspira blinked. “A speech is hardly a threat.”
Catseye’s head dipped back, and he freed a dramatic groan. “Saelihn won’t let this go, will she? Honestly, I could handle the Druidic emissaries disguised as birds and rodents, and the relentless letters cluttering up my mailbox, and the wave after wave of Red Sentinels trying to drag me in, but apep talk? I admire your creativity, Miss Helspira; it’s as brutal as it is effective. If all Saelihn wants is her precious ‘tax money,’ then fine, I’ll accompany you. But I do hope that’s all she wants.”
The breath she’d taken in preparation for her speech flew out her lungs in an exasperated cough. “Really?That’swhere you draw the line? Not sword-wielding sentinels or royal summonses, but speeches?”
“Rest assured, it’s nothing against you. I’m sure you prepared a stirring piece, but long-winded monologues bring me back to my failed wizardry apprenticeship and the droning, hours-long spans of information my mentors tried to cram into my brain. It’s a disastrous time in my life, and I prefer not to revisit it even in a metaphorical sense.”
Well,b’yehnz.All that time she’d wasted trying to perfect every little sentence, applying all the knowledge she’d gathered about human psychological behavior to appeal to him on an emotional level, and he folded before he even heard her opening? She’d spent two hours on the first paragraph alone.
Helspira sighed, lips tightening. Okay. Fine. It didn’t matter. At least he agreed to come with. What was that human saying? Beggars shouldn’t be choosers, or something like that. But what was that bit he had mentioned about Druidic emissaries? Queen Saelihn never mentioned the deployment of any hired hands with the capability to shift into animals. Before she could request clarification, Catseye raised a hand.
“Just give us five minutes before departure, would you? My brother-in-law is currently engaged in honoring the dying wishes of a client, and we’re nothing if not the epitome of professionalism around here.”
Lurid moans of pleasure from down the hallway severed the temporary silence, followed swiftly by what Helspira assumed to be a headboard slamming against a wall. Discomfort stiffened her arms, and she arched a brow. “Do I want to know?”
Catseye stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Probably not.”
“Fair enough.” Having traded the sound of awkward moans for even more awkward quiet, Helspira gripped her elbows. She rocked back and forth until the absence of sound became too much to bear. “Nice scythe.”
“Thank you.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“Death.”
“I ... Okay. As in the physical embodiment of—?” She scrunched her nose. “I’m sorry, I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“I’ve been told I have that effect on people.”
Despite everything, Helspira smiled. “I usually have the same effect. Different reasons, of course, seeing as how I don’t currently possess a weapon once owned by an omnipotent entity, but”—she shrugged—“the same effect nevertheless.”
He flashed an unpredictably dashing grin. “No one ever knows how to respond to a Red Sentinel. Authority figures leave an uneasy taste in peoples’ mouths.”
Her sudden burst of laughter surprised her, and she shook her head. “No, not because I’m a sentinel. I meant”—she gestured to her horns—“this whole situation.”
“I’ll admit, pink isn’t a common hair color in Siaphara, but—”
“Thehorns,” Helspira interrupted, amused laughter still escaping between words. “Look, it’s very sweet of you to have pretended this entire time you didn’t notice, but I know what I am to humans.”
Catseye leaned against the mansion, scythe resting on his shoulder. “I’ll be honest, Miss Helspira, that red scarf of yours struck more terror in my heart than those horns. Care to know the difference between a Red Sentinel and a demon?”
