“The tree,” Killian says, which takes me a minute but doesn’t seem to take any of them by surprise.
“Well, we haven’t explored under the tree?”
“Or in it,” Seth adds, which gets him a questioning look from Roarke.
“Fine, it’s coming down,” Pax says.
“Let me Chaos it.”
“You’ll shatter the whole damn forest,” Roarke argues.
Pax waves off the dangers. “Can you stay with her?” he demands of Killian.
Killian’s reply is an untranslatable grunt, but Pax seems to understand it.
“Good. Roarke, find me an answer. Seth, come with me – we’re bringing down that tree.”
The tree or my life? Do I have the energy to care anymore?
“You’re going to try to use Chaos on a tree that big? The thing is as broad as this house. We’re almost better off letting Kitten help Killian put it through the Veil.”
“No,” Killian snaps.
Roarke deflates and echoes, “No, please don’t crush us.” Pax and Seth have already started down the stairs, but Roarke hesitates at the bedroom door, his dark eyes longing and hurting. Adding for me, or rather Killian, “And she needs to eat.”
Then he disappears up the stairs, leaving me on the foot of the bed and Killian less than three steps away.
Killian offers a ‘follow me’ sound, no time for hesitation, then starts walking. I jump to my feet and beeline behind him. First to snatch up my discarded darts and search through the pockets of my dropped clothes for the dagger. The little egg is still in Roarke’s care, and he better be looking after it. I don’t say anything, just let myself be led down the stairs.
The place is empty. The fire still crackles softly, and between the discarded books everywhere, what looks like the leftover mess of Roarke making a potion beside the sink, and part piles of the guys’ clothes, the place also looks like it hosted a tornado’s birthday party.
And I don’t care about any of it.
This is about as over life as I’ve ever been. Hollow.
Killian tears a chunk of bread off the end of a loaf, sticks his fingers into the middle to make a pocket, then shoves a piece of meat into the middle. And just as roughly holds the thing in my direction.
I lean back against the kitchen bench and accept the food.
“Not tired,” he observes, though his sentence is part question in Killian’s unique way.
I finish my mouthful before replying, “Not really. Just worn out.”
“Keep eating,” he says, then contradicts that by grabbing one of my arms and almost making me drop my food so he can fix the dart cuff to my wrist. “I expect, serving at the White Castle, you’d have spent little time close to the Elite Sabers and lived for years.”
I’m not sure if that’s his way of apologizing or just him channeling some Roarke and stating a fact? He moves on to the cuff for my ankle but leaves the blade in his pocket.
“I blame the potion,” I say once he’s done with my ankle and standing back up.
He rests a hand on my chest, which makes me freeze mid-chew and probably look like an idiot.
“I have my power locked down, and I can still feel it.”
“It what?” I manage. I’m confused by his words, but mostly because I’m completely absorbed by his touch.
“Your tiny little soul.”
Oh, is that all.
I brush his hand aside. “Everyone has a soul.”
Though the part about mine being both tiny and little is a bit insulting.
“Not one that my power wants,” he lets slip, and I know he’s let it slip because his eyes go wide, and he turns suddenly toward the door.
My wall makes sure I follow, out of the cottage and on a straight line toward the open field.
“Good Shadow,” he mutters.
I bite, chew, and let myself get lost in his words.
He whacks his shoulder, then tugs at his collar as if dislodging a bug.
Or not.
“Was that your shadow?” I ask, and he stops, poised and ready to leap across the stream.
“No.”
I shrug. “I can’t see it anymore.”
He straightens away from the stream and turns to face me. The brewing winter weather blows icicles across my cheeks and plays at the tips of his hair. My bare toes are chuckin’ freezing. Has it always been this cold?
It’s not a bad cold – more exhilarating.
He raises his right hand purposefully, palm up, and motions for me to do the same. The tips of my fingers touch the tips of his, like both of us are waiting to catch raindrops.
I can’t see anything, no change at all, but I feel the slide and pool of something cold and smooth as silk.
My wide eyes lock on the gentle emerald of Killian’s. No black, just green. Vibrant.
I try to pat the sensation, but it’s like trying to pat water, and considering it looks like I’m patting empty air, I’m waiting for Seth to jump out from behind the bushes, laughing.
“It’s from the Veil. I’ve only been there once, and it came back out with me.”
“Why don’t you send it back?” I ask, realizing I’ve begun to cradle the thing close to my chest like a kitten.
His lips pull across in an attempt not to smile at me. “It doesn’t want to go back.”
“Then why do you keep hitting it? It is a horrible thing to call it – what’s its name?”
“It is as annoying as chu –” he stops to growl, then tries again. “Fuck. It’s annoying as fuck, and it doesn’t have a name.”
“You were going to say chuck, weren’t you?”
I step closer and push myself up onto the tips of my toes. But even making myself as tall as I possibly can, I still have to tip my head back a little to look him in the eye.
“You were going to say chuck.”
“No.”
I just smile at him; he can’t fool me.
I feel the cold creature slip from my hands, and Killian’s shoulder twitch hints that the thing just slid
