Page 68 of A Requiem of Fire and Ice

He would then ask how it felt to me. Lies were spoken, as expected. I told him my fingers oozed with possibilities, but they were as dry as a fucking desert. No amount of time on the phone would have made me leak like a faucet. It was dry, like a shortbread biscuit without milk.

Fucking annoying.

I refrain from telling Maya my thoughts, as she reminisces on sexually repressed teenagers in her relationships while at the academy. It makes me laugh because it’s true. Fuck me; they’re like a vibrator without an off button. Many boys at Oceanview Harbour and Loreth Elemny Academy grabbed their package—and lack of one—and spoke obscene words of desire as if it would make me spread my legs on command and froth over their pin-dicks.

There was only one elemny I desired, and he was far from a pin-dick.

But now he’s dead.

“How did it feel?” Maya’s silver eyes dart to the TV and the news of what’s happening at the castle.

“Oh…” I struggle to think of a suitable word because, when it happened, I didn’t sit and consider how it made me feel. Only the after-effects of Queen Ji-Sun’s unfortunate death remain. “Nothing at first. I didn’t have time to register. But when I was on the ship, I felt disgusted with myself. How he tried to touch me reminded me of all the times my body was…”

I force a smile. She likely doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about. Therefore, I’ll give her the most generic answer to please her.

“I laughed.”

“Wow,” Maya says with a smirk settling on her face. “Hardcore.”

I knew she would say something along those lines.

After finishing my drink, I rise from the table and say, “I should leave. Thanks for letting me stay.”

“Here.” Maya slides the envelope with a key to her postal locker in the Fountain of Silver. “The passport should be there when you arrive. Sorry that I couldn’t have it here. With everything you’ve told me, I want nothing traced back to me.”

I shake my head. “Honestly, letting me stay for a few days was enough.”

I grab my bag when the screen door flies open. One of the soaking-wet children enters the kitchen and clings to Maya’s jumper. “A black car has parked out front.”

I leave the kitchen and head towards the back of the house. Through the heavy rain, a silver-haired figure in a grey suit speaks to a child through the open rear screen door. I mutter a swear, thrust open the basement door, and close it as silently as possible before creeping down the stairs.

I reach for the narrow, frosted glass window when I hear tapping from the front door. They didn’t even push the fucking buzzer.

Fuck! Fuck me! I’m so fucking dead!

Two sets of footsteps creak against the floorboards. Slivers of light from the lanterns illuminating the living room fade as shadows move across. “Prince Reen, have you come to make another contribution to Sweethearts Orphanage?”

A low, dark chuckle breathes through the rumbling thunder and heavy rain. “Sure. Let’s entertain ourselves for a little while, shall we?”

“I will check upstairs.” My throat tightens at the familiar drawl of his voice. It’s the air elemny I met that night.

“If you find her, let her run,” Prince Reen says. “I like a challenge.”

Motherfucker, really? Gee, thanks, I fucking guess.

My focus settles on the windows again. After pressing my hands against them, I wait until the thunder claps before I twist the latch and let it hook against the support. Water flows over the ledge when I press my hands against it and push myself up with my backpack filled with the extra supplies Maya offered me.

Rain already drenches my clothes and plasters my hair to my face as I rise. The man who spoke to the children appears before me, and my stomach flips at the sight of him. With cautious movements, I step back and rest my hand on the dagger’s hilt. I doubt I can take him, but I hope I can distract him enough to flee…hopefully.

He’s an air elemny of colour. He can manipulate the wind. Or worse…force the air out of my lungs until there’s shortness of breath.

Silver eyes shift right, looking at the gate leading out of Sweethearts Orphanage. With careful movements, he takes a step to the side and nudges his head. My eyes narrow, and my lip curls as I shuffle away from his suggested direction, instead moving towards the fence closest to me.

I grip the metal poles, throw the bag over the spikes, jump up, roll over the bag and onto the other side. I land with a thump in the sodden puddles, and when I rise, the elemny of colour watches me curiously before he turns away and heads toward the front of the orphanage.

My frown deepens, but before my thoughts drift too much, I sling the pack over my shoulder and go to leave. However, my focus shifts towards the black sedan parked out front. A risky idea comes to me. Sneaking across the shrubbery lining the front of the fence, I reach the car. The dagger spins around my fingertips before I drive it through the back and front tyres.

I peek in the window and notice a wallet in the cup holder. Opening the door, I wince at the dinging alert coming from the open car door. As quickly as possible, I grab the wallet, flip it open, take the thick slab of cash, toss it aside, and run for it.