“Transformed goblins are unlike other wraiths. They’re smart, stealthy, and they’ll attack when you least expect it. A goblin wraith in Earth Kingdom is even more dangerous.
“I’ve only encountered a goblin wraith one other time in my life, and he left me with this.” He removed his jacket, unbuttoned his cuff, and pushed up his sleeve to reveal a scar cutting across his forearm. “This is one of many scars he left me with. Honestly, it was a miracle he didn’t kill me.”
“I agree. I’ve seen the way you fight.”
He frowned. “Why do you insist on insulting me? I’ll have you know my dueling skills are unequaled.”
“Dueling—yes, perhaps you are good with a dueling sword, but that is not the same as fighting. And I do not insist on insulting you. I am merely pointing out your weaknesses so you can be prepared for the future and so this,” I said and pointed at his scar, “doesn’t happen again.”
He narrowed his eyes. I was getting under his skin. “If we’re on the subject of scars, how about you explain yours?” He nodded at my hands. Self-conscious, I crossed my arms.
“Those are nothing.”
“They’re nothing?”
I nodded.
“Come now, if you’re going to belittle me over my combat skills and then add further insult by pointing out my weaknesses made apparent by my scars, you must at least tell me how you got yours.”
I gave him a shrewd look. “That is a subject I will not discuss.” I spoke with venom in my voice, hoping he would leave the subject alone.
“Why not?”
I stared at him, shocked. Most people would have dropped the topic. Maybe he wasn’t the pushover I’d assumed him to be. I’d never told anyone the truth behind my scars—not even my brother—so what would happen if I told Maveryck? He meant nothing to me, and after this quest, I knew I would never see him again. Maybe telling someone the truth—someone like him—would help me overcome the past.
“You really want to know?” I asked. “Even if it causes me pain to speak of it?”
“It causes you pain? I wasn’t aware you felt pain.”
What? “Of course I feel pain. Why wouldn’t I?”
“You fight like a demon. You’ve got a godlike reputation in Faythander that’s only rivaled by your brother’s. If I had to guess, there are some who wouldn’t believe you to be mortal. So, do you feel pain? Did you feel pain when you got those scars?”
I’d been so close to telling him, but now he’d ruined his chance.
“No one speaks to me that way,” I said, barely keeping an even tone.
I stood abruptly, and then I turned and marched out of the restaurant, feeling his eyes follow me.
“No one speaks to me that way,” I repeated to myself.
I drew a few stares as I stormed through the lobby, past the main desk, and out into the chill nighttime air. A path wound away from the hotel and I took it, breathing deeply and trying to sort out my thoughts.
Under the yellow streetlamp, I opened my hands and studied the scars crisscrossing my skin. They were ugly reminders of the past I’d tried so hard to leave behind—of the man I’d tried to leave behind. He was dead, so why did I feel as if his ghost still lingered, taunting me, manipulating me?
But I’d love him once, too, and maybe that was the reason behind my emotions. Staring back at the hotel, I couldn’t deny that Maveryck brought up some of the same feelings I’d felt for another person not so long ago.
After what that man had put me through, I’d sworn never to fall in love again.
And I wouldn’t.
I walked down the alleyway behind the hotel, between the buildings and toward another street but stopped abruptly. A shadow lurked in the alleyway. I couldn’t see much, only the hem of a long coat caught in the breeze that blended with the shadows. Someone was hiding there. I pressed my back against the warm bricks, listening.
Uneven, rattling breaths echoed faintly, almost drowned out by the roar of motorized engines and drifting laughter. I crept quietly along the wall, my heart racing. When I got to the corner, I peered down the alley, but the shadowy form had disappeared. I waited, watching, thinking perhaps he’d hidden behind a trash bin, but I saw only an empty alley.
Had I imagined him?
I exhaled, letting go of my pent-up tension, and walked around the corner. Mist gathered around me as rough arms grabbed me from behind, one around my neck and the other around my waist. Before I could react, the biting, cold sting of a blade stabbed through my abdomen on my right side just below my ribcage.
The intense pain made me want to scream, but the arm circling my neck clamped so tight I only made a muffled cry. The wraith shoved me to the ground, and I landed hard on my back. Blood seeped from the open wound, sticky and warm, soaking through the ivory dress and pooling beneath me.
The monster slammed his knee into my stomach as he hunched over me; his icy fingers chilled my skin as he searched my clothing. Bile rose into my throat as I looked up at the creature—he had a bone-white face made skeletal under the moonlight.
Clamping both my hands over the knife wound, blood seeped between my fingers. The pain was blinding and all consuming. It burned me from the inside out. There had to have been magic in the monster’s blade, and I could only imagine what the enchantment was doing to me. As I writhed beneath the
