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She didn’t bother looking at him when she asked, “Do you have an aversion to fabric?”
She saw his brow furrow. “No. Why?”
“You seem to find any reason possible not to wear a shirt.”
The slight frown disappeared. “What are you reading?”
“A book. Go away.”
His eyes shifted, glowing a faint blue. “Not just any book.”
She sighed, turning her attention to him. “No. Not just any book. Can you see better with your eyes shifted? Better than normal for an immortal?”
Her senses were spectacular as a Fae. She couldn’t imagine them being even more enhanced.
“I can see farther away. When I am flying, I can see things on the ground clearly,” he answered.
That made sense.
Her focus returned to the book she was studying. It was the one he’d given her in his study back in Aimonway, and she was currently trying to figure out how to read the Avonleyan language. Even though it was a book meant for younglings, it was still incredibly complicated.
“Why is it so difficult to understand?” she asked absent-mindedly.
“It is a sub-sect of the Celestial Language,” Razik answered.
“What is that?” She tilted the book. There were two words that were nearly identical. Like the Marks, writing a word slightly different changed the meaning entirely, and she could not figure out how these two differed.
“The language of the gods.” She looked up at the nearness of his voice, finding him standing beside the bed. He pointed to the two words. “Here. The angle of this part is different.”
She saw it then. It was different, but barely. No wonder Sorin had been struggling to learn it. Scarlett had seemed to pick it up easily enough though. It had taken her a matter of months when she’d sneak down to the chamber beneath the Fire Palace library.
“Does it come easier for you? With the blood of a god in your veins?”
“In theory,” he answered. “Move over.”
She did so without thinking, sliding over a bit to give him room to sit beside her. Turning the book so he could see it better, she pointed to another set of words. “What about these two?”
For the next two hours, Razik entertained her questions and taught her the basics of the Avonleyan language. It was only when the candle had indeed burned all the way down and the words on the page blurred that Razik gently closed the book in his lap.
“You need to sleep,” he said. She was nestled against his side where she had been leaning to see the book better as he’d explained things to her.
“I do,” she murmured, eyes already closed. A palm ran down her hair. “I want you to stay,” she added in a whisper.
“I know,mai dragocen,” he answered, the whisper of lips brushing against her temple.
And when she woke the next morning with her head on his chest and his arm curled protectively around her waist, holding her to him, she couldn’t bring herself to regret asking him to stay.
Chapter18
Talwyn
Fucking bars.
Again.
They had waited in that room in the cliffs until the seraph had returned to report that Scarlett and her company had indeed left the Southern Islands. Alaric did not acknowledge her the entire time. Briar stood next to her but also did not speak. When Mordecai had returned, he’d taken her arm, and they’d all gone down to the beach where Alaric had immediately Traveled them out. Then the seraph had escorted her down here while Briar had been taken elsewhere.
Talwyn tipped her head back against the wall of the dungeon she was once again sitting in. Not in Windonelle. No, this time she was graced with the Water Court cells. Musty, dank, and cold, the mist of the sea seemed to seep into her clothing. Shirastone shackles were still on her wrists, but they didn’t burn. Not anymore. Not without magic in her veins that would react to the stone. The open cuts and bruises from the nightstone shackles were still there though. She’d heal as a mortal now. She turned her hands over, the slices along her palms scabbed over but still red and raw. At least she was in clean clothing, she supposed, and she’d had a bath. Her eyes fell closed at the memory. The only bit of warmth her soul could cling to right now, and even that was bittersweet.
