As if it were Gisela’s fault that her mother’s centaur genes hadn’t fought any harder to show themselves in her blood. Her mother had acted as if Gisela had done it on purpose to anger her.
No one had a choice as to what they were born.
Only who they’d become.
“I never wanted to be an assassin,” she whispered in a confession that caught her off guard. “I just wanted my mother to acknowledge me.”
To her shock, Xaydin pulled her against his chest and held her. “I know it hurts and I’m sorry. Every child should feel wanted and loved.”
How would she know? Neither of her parents had held an ounce of parental concern. Her father had handed her brothers over to be brutalized. He’d separated Dash and Ryper to be raised separately. What kind of monster divided twins?
It made her wonder how Xaydin’s mother had felt about her children. She was still alive and they didn’t know her…
Gisela couldn’t imagine being like that. She’d never be able to let a child go. Not for anything.
But here they were. The unwanted.
And yet standing this close to Xaydin…
She didn’t feel unwanted at all.
We’re enemies.
Weren’t they?
Why did she have this overwhelming urge to trust him? To seek him out? It wasn’t like her at all, but she had learned to enjoy their company. Enjoy having someone at her back.
But dare she be that stupid?
Masakage could feelthe hatred from theaþasweres around him. It hung heavy in the air, like humidity in the atmosphere right before a mighty storm. They begrudged his presence, just as they’d ached to attack Xaydin earlier.
He’d give them credit, they knew restraint. How to hold themselves back even when they were filled with fury and a need for vengeance.
Masakage respected that. Holding his hands out to show them that he meant no harm, he gestured toward the bed where Saress coughed and tried to breathe. “I can save him.”
His eldest son scoffed. “For what price, wizard? One of us must die?”
Normally, they’d be right. The usual price was a life for a life. But there was something he’d sensed earlier. And it was something he didn’t want to let Xaydin know.
“The ink used for Meara’s contract was bespelled. I can smell it. Let me take it from you and you’ll see.”
Saress scoffed. “Lies.”
“No. Deep inside, you know it, too. You felt it the moment you began carrying that contract. Something wasn’t right. But your pride kept you from correcting it or saying anything. This isn’t the usual illness some of you get. This one is special. A built-in safeguard to make sure the queen wouldn’t always have to abide by her word.”
Saress sat up.
Masakage approached the bed slowly. “Admit it. You haven’t been right since the moment you took that contract on.”
Saress started to argue but then caught himself. He looked to his wife, then back to Masakage. “How did you know that?”
Because wizards knew their own kind. They could smell magic no matter how little. It literally sizzled on their skin when they came near it. Not even the most skilled of their ilk could mask the unique sensation.
“The how isn’t important. What matters is that I can cure it.”
“For a price.”
“Magic always comes with a price.” A price usually paid by the one wanting the magic enacted.
