“Fine. Lead the way.”
I brace myself for the unpleasant moments to come as Axel opens the door to Killian’s study and practically pushes me through before closing the door with a loud thud.
Killian’s leaning over his massive mahogany desk, his gaze focused intently on a storm of parchments thrown haphazardly over his workspace. His eyes narrow to onyx slits as he lifts his head from the papers and takes me in.
“Took you long enough,” he says in a gruff voice.
Gods, that voice. It used to twist my insides in longing and trepid anticipation, but now I can feel my anger slithering in, combusting every other emotion in its path until only charred ashes remain.
“Well, excuse me for not coming running like a lost puppy when you beckon.” I cross my arms in front of my chest and jut my chin out in defiance.
“Stubborn brat,” he mutters under his breath, but I catch it with my newly developed heightened hearing.
Oh, wow. We’ve resorted to name-calling already?
What are we, like, five years old?
Scratch that. I am not above this either.
“Presumptuous bloodsucker,” I spit through clenched teeth. “What do you want?”
Killian sighs and drags his hand through his dark locks, messing his hair completely. The gesture makes me lose focus for a second, as images of another time flash in my mind.
My fingers caressing his midnight black strands, feeling the softness against my fingertips. His once dazzling smile melting my insides as he whispered sweet nothings in my ear under the covers.
Grief rampages through my veins before I can contain it in my mental vault.
Sweet nothings, that’s all they were.
Emphasis onnothings.
“I’ve secured a rendezvous with the human leaders. I need allies in this war against Morweena, and they’ve agreed to meet and hear me out. But there’s a catch.”
I take two steps closer toward the mahogany desk that separates us, waiting in silence for him to continue.
“They’ve demanded both our presence in Reweroth. The human leaders want to meet the Foretold One,” he says in an exhausted voice.
“Okay.” I nod. This is more important than our meaningless bickering. “When do we leave?”
Killian releases an audible breath, his gaze softening a fraction.
“Right away. The sooner we get there, the better.”
“And how long will the journey be?” I ask with mild curiosity.
“Seconds, I suppose. I haven’t shadow-traveled this far in a while, but it shouldn’t take more than that. If it were closer, I could take us both, but to the other side of the continent it will require your skill too.”
“Shadow travel?” I repeat in disbelief. I know he can do that; I’ve seen it countless times. But how the hell does he expect me to do it?
“Yeah, I assume you’ve been training yourself to do it these past few weeks,” he says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I stare at him dumbfounded for an instant before a hysterical laugh bubbles up past my lips.
“Gods, you’re so fucking daft! How did I not notice this before!”
His gaze darkens immediately, and any shallow trace of softness disappears from his face. But I don’t care. It’s like an emotional dam has broken inside my mind, and a devastating deluge of outrage sweeps everything in its path.
“How the hell do you think I could train for an ability I didn’t even know I should have? It’s not like you were courteous enough to tell me.”
