He holds his hand out for one of them, and I reluctantly hand it over. The asshole scoffs at my resistance and winks at me.
“They won’t hurt you or any of us. Neither will my swords now. I’ve put permissions on all of them. I’d never expect you to battle with these unless you somehow lost your weapon, but I want them on you anytime we leave the house. I’ve also embedded these holsters so the second you slide the dagger all the way out, it’s going to tug my soul. I’ll come right to you. We’ll come, Thayla.”
My ears ring as I stare into the white trying its damnedest to break through his dark gray irises.
He’s given me an extra layer of protection I didn’t even know I wanted or needed until this very moment. The more I practice with my power, the more readily it’ll come to me, but if I find myself in a situation where that doesn’t happen, I have these.
I have him.
Them.
“Thank you, Creed.”
His lips tighten and he bows his head. I pass him the second dagger and he slides it into the holster as well, then closes the lid on the box.
His eyes cut beside him to Amick, and I swallow as I take a step over.
“Hey, Candyman.”
The look on his face softens before he glances at the book in his hand. His fingers trace the spine up and down. I watch intently.
“You’re as much of an anomaly to me today as you were the first day you arrived here to us.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth.
“I can’t still be that bad.”
“Never bad.”
“One day, you’ll figure me out.”
“I sure hope not. I hope every day, for the rest of our lives, that I get to observe and learn something new about you. I pray to witness every change.”
My mouth parts and I can’t decide whether to focus on the book he’s passing me or the reverence in his eyes.
When he peers down at the bound leather in my hands, so do I.
There’s nothing on the front cover and the crack of the spine breaks the silence. The book nearly slips from my grip when I read the scribe page.
Mysenta
-Amick
With ease and care, I turn the page.
My trembling fingers press against my quivering lips.
The healing villas smelled strongly of cleaning solution. It contradicted the fresh crisp air we’d just been breathing as we stood in the Assembly.
Though that oxygen was sucked from our bodies the moment the irrevocable change to our lives pierced us through our hearts.
Our names were never called, but we were. Our souls were.
The marks came as fast as the tug to her.
As I watched my brother, who avoids touching anyone, swoop up the goddess whose name we didn’t even know, I knew the lives we’d been living were over.
I had so many questions. I demanded so many answers.
