I bristle at the disapproval in his tone, and get angry at myself for my reaction. Empaths are always ridiculed for being “too emotional,” which is ironic, considering we shoulder the weight of everyone else’s feelings.
“You’re not supposed to talk about gifts,” I snap.
He raises an eyebrow. “Why not?”
I can’t say I’m entirely surprised by the question. There’s no way a man this size could escape the guards who welcome new ships by the docks. There’s also no way they’d let him walk out of the House of Justice looking the way he does, though, which means he definitely arrived another way. The Shroud instantly comes to mind, but this is Mortiana’s collector. She could havedropped him from the sky, or dug him out of the ground, for all I know.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” he says after a moment.
My lips twist. “That would be more reassuring if you’d knocked on the front door.”
He studies my face. “Why can’t I ask about your gifts?”
“If you’d gone to the House of Justice, which you obviously didn’t, you’d know the mention of gifts is forbidden in Lunaris. Everyone receives a crystal amulet to wear that prevents them from using their gifts here.”
He straightens in his chair. “Magic is forbidden? How long has it been that way?”
I shrug. “Since the Council deemed it so.”
His brows knit slightly. “Who is the Council?”
My eyes widen. I know in my bones he’s not some silent guard the Council sent after me, but I still look around to make sure I’m not being watched. It’s nonsensical paranoia. The Council doesn’t even know I exist. Up until the day Jordi was given his apprenticeship with the Keeper of the Vault, the Sages forbade us from stepping foot in the Council’s territory at all.
My eyes sweep the room from the small windows near the ceiling, where the dark early evening clouds hang over the sky, to the kitchen. Finally, my gaze lands on Jordi’s satchel and remains there for a moment. Could he have already gone through it? Probably. My pulse races as my eyes dart around each crevice of the room again. It occurs to me that this is how the Council’s residents live every day. Looking over their shoulders and not fully trusting the people around them.
“I already told you I’m not here to hurt you,” he says gruffly.
His obvious annoyance makes my sigil flare and straightens my spine.
“I’m sure this will be difficult for you to believe, being favored by the goddess of death and looking like that.” I wave a handin his direction. “But you’re not the most fearful presence in Lunaris. Why don’t you just tell me how to repay my end of the bargain?”
He stares at me for a moment. “Who is the Council?”
Without knowing anything about him, I know I’m going to be stuck here for hours if I decide to answer that question. He’s very obviously an outsider. One who doesn’t know anything about this place and will surely have countless questions. It’s not uncommon whenever we get new visitors during the Moon Festival.
It’s worse, since, unbeknownst to them, the amulets they wear during the festival make it so that the moment they leave, their memories of this place begin to fade. The merchants are spared from that fate since they only stick around Veritas. But the festival guests don’t know any better, which makes them incredibly annoying to deal with since they ask the same stupid questions every single time they visit. My knee starts bouncing as I try to figure out what I can possibly say to get out of this.
“Can we do this later?” I finally blurt out.
“No.”
Again, my spine stiffens. “Look, I know the gods don’t wait for anything, and I mean no disrespect to Mortiana, nor am I trying to make excuses or get out of my debt, but I really need to?—”
“No.”
I blink. “You didn’t even let me finish speaking.”
“The answer is no.”
“But you haven’t even … you didn’t let me … you haven’t even heard my argument!” I sputter.
“I don’t need to. The answer will still be no. I do not have the time nor the patience to continue this later.”
A sharp laugh leaves my lips. “Youdon’t have the time or the patience?”
“Who is the Council?” The quiet demand makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I bite my tongue as the faint remnants of the compulsion vibrate through my chest. Someone else may not have noticed, but I was raised around too many sirens and endured too much training not to recognize it. And Malachi … the way he just used it, he either didn’t mean tooris so powerful that people don’t typically notice.
