Asmo stares at me, eyebrows raised. “You can’t just waltz into the dungeons.”
“I’m not going to. You are.”
He scoffs. “What makes you think I can do that?”
I motion toward him. “You’re…you. You’ve been here before. You know where they are, don’t you?”
“Well, yes…” he says cautiously, lips pressing together in a frown. “But that doesn’t mean we can just walk in there. Don’t forget that Panthera is now a friend to the High Court. They’re going to be guarding the dungeons. And if we get caught…”
I wave him away. “I know, I know. I just need to get eyes on the prisoner and see how tight their security is.”
Asmo lets loose a sigh that borders on insulting. “Mother help us.”
Something soars through the night air, inches from my face. I jump back with a squeal, heart racing and magic flaring as I look around the room.
Holly’s laughter fills the dilapidated barn. “It’s justan owl,” she says between laughs. She points up in the corner and sure enough, a tawny owl is perched on a wooden beam, yellow eyes watching us.
Just as I feel my heart rate returning to normal, the owl soars from its perch and shifts mid-air. Into a human male. The last time I saw someone shift, they ended up naked, but this male wears a pair of trousers covered in dirt and patched holes. His linen shift was once white, but is now a worn gray with fraying cuffs.
Asmo throws up a protective barrier around me as Holly fists a dagger in one hand and moves to stand in front of me. The male shifter holds his hands up.
“I come in peace.” His voice is calm and steady. He speaks the truth. “I’m here to help.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Asmo asks, voice low and thrumming with power.
“My name is Basil.” Truth.
“And what do you want, Basil?” Asmo asks, all but spitting his name at him.
He takes a step forward, posture relaxed and hands loose at his sides. “First of all, you guys were being loud as all sin in here. We could hear you. Ever heard of a sound barrier?” Basil asks nonchalantly, as if completely apathetic to the fact that Asmo could obliterate him with a flick of his hand.
But then again, I’m forgetting that Asmo doesn’t look like Asmo.
“So, it’s true, then,” Basil says. “You’re alive.” He stares at me now with those wide, yellow eyes.
I shake my head. “What?”
He snorts. “Come on. You’re the High Queen.” He cuts his gaze to Asmo. “And you’re Prince Asmo.” He looks back at me. “We knew you’d come. We’ve been waiting.”
Again, his words ring true. They jar me, and my skin tingles— either from nerves or magic ready to defend me and my friends, I don’t know. Maybe both. I don’t move an inch.
“Oh, come on,” he repeats. “I see the way you both guard her. It’s your instinct to protect her. Plus, I can see your auras.” He gestures toward Asmo and says, “Yours is black, like the High King,” then to me and says, “Yours is white, like King Silas’s. Well, mostly white, just likeyours, is mostly black.” He gestures back to Asmo. He glances at Holly and says, “No clue who you are, though, if I’m being frank.”
Auras? What is he talking about? The only person with an aura is Cora, and hers is black. Asmo doesn’t have an aura, and I certainly don’t.
“It’s my gift. Auras aren’t visible to everyone, but I can see them,” he offers in explanation. “I don’t know why or how, but I can.”
Truth.
Asmo reaches for me. “Let’s go.”
“Wait,” Basil says.
“What do you want?” Holly asks.
“I already told you. I’m here to help. We’ve been waiting for you to come.”
Holly doesn’t ask what the hell he means bywe, but instead asks, “Help with what?”
