I almost believed it.
The monster led me through the market, past the pens of other women waiting their turn, past merchants and monsters and humans all pretending not to stare. His hand stayed hot around mine. That pulse never changed, never quickened, steady as something ancient.
At the perimeter, the road ended in a cliff.
I stopped walking.
He stopped too, turning to look at me. For the first time, something flickered across his face. Not amusement, exactly. Something quieter.
“You have questions,” he said.
“Several.”
“There is no road.” He said it like he was confirming something obvious. “My home is not accessible by ground.”
I looked at the cloak. At the way it rippled and shifted on his shoulders, bronze and black feathers catching the last of the light.
“You can fly.”
“Not me. The cloak.” He touched it, and the feathers shivered under his hand. “It is an artifact. Very old. It carries me when I need to travel.”
“And you expect me to fly with you.”
“Yes.”
