“Her brother, Riesh, is aBrek.” His tongue skips along the “r,” rolling it along the roof of his mouth. “He can amplify another gift or block it altogether.”
“Any gift?” I ask, startled.
“You are aware that feyn are quite private about their gifts and the extent of their power?” he says in clear admonishment of my curiosity.
I suppress a flinch at the bit of chastisement that deepens his tone. Of course, I don’t expect him to know all their gifts or the extent of their power.
“I’ve heard rumors that he’s quite powerful,” he admits, “Though, I’m sure you know by now, a feyn’s gift is only as strong as their opponent is weak.”
In fact, it isn’t something I’ve been taught. I’d like nothing more than for him to explain further but decide against telling my uncle how woefully unprepared I am when it comes to any real knowledge as it pertains to their species. Another of Leanna’s earliest and most brutal lessons, never expose a weakness.
“And the general?” I ask hurriedly, before he decides to change the subject.
“For the love of the stars, just stay as far away from that male as you can. You will never be allowed in the same room as the king if the general decides otherwise.”
I’m not surprised, after all, it is unlikely he became a general without good instincts. I don’t press Felias for more information, not today. If he’d been born feyn he would never have disclosed another’s gift to me, much less hinted about the strength of their power. He may be on the side of the La’tari but after living his life in A’kori, it’s reasonable that he maintains some of their customs. Customs that likely dissuade the man from revealing the full depth of his knowledge about the gifted.
My uncle leaves me to dress and the moment he’s left the room I pull out a pair of the billowing pants that cinch at the ankle. My host may not approve, but the entire upper echelon of society on this side of the sea has already seen me from toe to hip, save for a few small shreds of flesh that weren’t on display last night. I have no intention of being on display like that again, regardless of what their society says.
Awri’s carriage arrives early, and I run down to greet her before I’ve managed to procure something to eat. She doesn’t get out to greet me, she just flings the door open the moment she sees me, waving me over with a smile as she makes a perusal of my choice of clothing. I cringe, rethinking my decision to wear the comfortable pants under my dress, when my eyes land on the striking cobalt fabric of her own.
“Oh good. I was worried you’d overdress,” she says.
“Haven’t I?” I wonder aloud, splaying my arms and making a show of looking myself over.
“Not at all,” she beams, “Get in.”
The moment I’m seated, she taps the roof of the carriage, and the driver snaps the reins, the wheels clinking against the stone as they roll across the cobbled street beneath.
“I know I said I’d show you the city, but Riesh had a new bow commissioned for my birthday and it just arrived. I’ve been dying to see it. Would you mind terribly if I made a small adjustment to our plans?” she asks, as if I have any choice in the matter. How could I even begin to say no to such a request? Not that I would. Not that I care. My only task is to convince her that I am a worthy companion.
I plaster on my most convincing smile. At least she’s taking me to see a weapon. It occurred to me that the female might force me to spendmy time with her shopping for ribbons and lace. To have the opportunity to examine a bow of feyn design far exceeds any expectations about how I imagined we might spend our day.
“I would love to see it. What kind of bow is it?”
“A long bow.” She tips her head and eyes me thoughtfully, the points of her ears breaking free from her silky hair. “Made of Osage.”
“Do you hunt?” I ask curiously.
“I do. Yes. My father taught me when I was young.”
I can’t help but wonder how long ago that was. For all I know about the way their species ages, the female across from me has been alive hundreds of years.
“Though I couldn’t stomach it for years after the war ended,” she says in a pained tone.
She doesn’t look much older than me, but if she fought in the war, she is at least twice my age. AGlier.That is what Felias called her. A feyn with the gift of illusion.
I find myself wondering how many different faces she wore during her time in the war, deceiving men into thinking it was their comrades who killed them. Perhaps she took a less direct approach, cloaking mortal men in the guise of the feyn, letting them kill each other. At least she has the decency to look ashamed for all the lives she ended. Melancholy at the least.
“I can only imagine,” I say, twisting my face in a portrayal of sympathy.
A jostling bump draws my attention outside the carriage and my eyes widen. Awri giggles, clearly pleased with my surprise.
“Where did you think we were going?” she asks, a coy smile turning up the edges of her lips.
We’ve made our way deep inside the palace grounds, the carriage turning east to follow a wide river.
“You live at the palace?” I gape.
