“After I brought her to the kingdom, Hazel kept to herself. She mostly communicated in glares and grunts until one day something snapped inside her. I watched her spar with a warrior twice her size.” Angel shakes his head, pride glinting in his eyes.
“She was fast.The warrior couldn’t even touch her. Hazel won without losing a drop of blood or sweat.” Angel takes my hand and hesitates like he is trying to prepare me for what he did next. “I know it’s not traditional to incorporate other species into our higher ranks, but Hazel has proven her loyalty more times than I can count.She is my family.”
The fond smile on Angel’s face proves how much he admires Hazel. It’s the second time his face has brightened up at the mention of his people.
As if summoned by her name, the siren enters the room with two people trailing behind her, a surge of excitement radiating from the newcomers.
A short, unfamiliar woman offers me a shy smile and a quick wave before hiding behind Hazel.She is so dainty and fragile.
“Nevaeh, you’ve already met Seiji Nakaya, our Prince of Famine,” Angel says, pointing to the man I met yesterday.
Like last night, Seiji has a calm, welcoming aura around him. He is so effortlessly comfortable with himself that it makes anyone in his proximity relax as well.
“Watching you drool over my best friend’s shoulder was fun.”That never happened. “I’m Seiji, like the sage witches use for their abracadabra, but with anI.”
We didn’t have time for proper introductions yesterday, but the way Seiji carefully explains the correct pronunciation tells me he doesn’t like it when people butcher his name.
“You look gorgeous in that hoodie, Nevaeh.” Seiji kicks Angel’s calf with his shoe. “Anxonevershares his clothes. You must be something special.”
“Behave,” Angel warns, but Seiji just blinks at himinnocently.
“What? I can’t compliment a girl on how good she looks inyourclothes? Why are you being so touchy, Anxo?”
While they bicker, I take a moment to admire Seiji’s kind brown eyes that shine with childlike innocence, despite the nonsense that comes out of his mouth.
His perfectly styled dark hair complements his tanned beige skin. His East Asian features remind me a little of Hazel’s, but not quite.
Even with his large build, nothing about Seiji feels threatening. Mostly thanks to his boyish features and nonstop chatter, which let everyone know he is a child trapped in a 6-foot man’s body.
Now that I know him a little better, his outfit makes more sense. A royal blue boxy shirt covered in green leaves and red flowers over a black undershirt. For some reason, almost every button on his shirt is open. I like the chain hanging from his belt loop to the pocket of his beige pants.
Everything about Seiji is bright and colorful. It suits him.
The woman who had been hiding behind Hazel finally slips out and nervously takes a seat on the couch opposite mine. Since no one pushes her to speak, I take the hint and follow their lead.
She thinks I don’t notice her secret glances, but I can feel the weight of her gaze. Her soft caramel eyes twinkle like she has trapped fireflies inside them. It’s impossible to ignore.
She can’t be more than 5’3”, but her braids look heavier than her entire body. Don’t they hurt her scalp?
This is a lot of empathy coming from someone as unhinged as me.
She tugs at the sleeve of her pale pink sweater, then rubs her hands down her smooth, bronze thighs, and then fidgets with the hem of her black skirt. The girl is practically sweating her weight in worry, and I think it’s because of me.
Should I smile? Maybe that will stop her from squirming like a chicken waiting for its head to be cut off?
A timid voice draws my attention before I can decide whether to smile. “Hello, I’m Grace… uh,Blackburn.”
Wait… that’s my last name.
“Blackburn?” I look at her suspiciously, and her face flushes with unease. “Do I know you?”
And she clams up.Again.
“Please don’t tell me Papa found his mate, and I missed it—wait, no. Then you’d be like ten, not a grown ass woman.”
I wait for her to explain, but Grace stays quiet. So naturally, I have no choice but to spiral into all the irrational theories I can come up with.
“Are you his mate?!” I screech loud enough that I wince at myself.
