Draken’s shoulders sag. “Fine, you’re right, she did. She also told you the communicators wouldn’t work, yet that hasn’t stopped you from dragging it out of your pocket a hundred times.”
“He’s glanced at it eight times since you all arrived. Regardless, is that what its function is? To communicate?” Amick asks, and I hide my smirk.
“Yes. This is what we use to send and receive messages from one to another,” Corentin says, flashing him the device.
“May I?”
Creed grunts, shoving Amick’s hand back down as he reaches toward Corentin. “You’re as bad as Thayla wanting to touch random shit.”
“It isn’t random. Although it’s apparently useless, it’s a piece of knowledge from their realm that I’d like to examine.”
“Here,” Caspian grumbles, handing Amick a replica of Corentin’s communicator from his pocket. “They aren’t useless. We’re an unfathomable distance from our realm, and yours doesn’t have the conducts or magic flowing through the earth to generate the power needed to make them work.”
“Interesting,” Amick hums as he observes the communicator from all angles. “At first glance, I’d never assume this came from a realm such as yours where power supposedly flourishes. This seems to be a mortal necessity.”
“It is. The concept of them derived from the nonmagical realm.”
Riven gasps, jumping in front of Caspian. “You know the mortals? How are they? Fascinating beings, aren’t they?”
“Fascinating? No. Absolutely worthless beings and a waste of universal space.”
“Caspian,” Tillman and Corentin chide.
“What?” He shrugs. “If he’d asked me the same question a hundred years ago, my answer would’ve been different.”
Creed huffs. “They have good food.”
“Had,” Caspian counters. “They don’t even grow or cook their own sustenance anymore.”
Well, that’s frightening and disappointing.
“Can I see?” Riven asks, grabbing the communicator from Amick as he attempts to pass it to Caspian.
Water wraps around Riven’s wrist, holding his hand up, and his jaw drops open.
“Oh, that feels weird as fuck and cold. Damn, you can’t heat that up?”
Holy shit…
It was mind-boggling when Willow pulled all the water from our clothes, but I had no clue that not only can he manipulate the water, but he can make the shit appear out of thin air.
“We all can control an element,” Tillman says as his eyes bounce between the two of them. “Cas.”
“Where’d you get these tattoos?” Caspian asks Riven rather than paying attention to the warning in Tillman’s tone.
“I like to doodle on myself in my spare time.”
“Cut the shit. Whoever did this to you had no fucking right to do that.”
The smirk fades from Riven’s face as his arm is lowered and the water slinks into the ground at his feet.
“Yeah, well, he doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Do you want me to get rid of them?”
“I can kill on my own, but thanks for the offer.”
Caspian scoffs. “Not the being who did it. The tattoos. Do you want me to remove them?”
