Page 7 of Heimlock

“What the ever loving goddesses fucking goddesses is going on here?” she screams. To me, she raises a shaking finger. “Shift. Now.”

I have no choice but to obey. Instantly, I’m in my bi-pedal form, curled up into myself, holding my eye. Or what’s left of it. The remaining chunks lay in my palm, an exterior symbol of my internal horror at it all.

To my father, she snarls, “You shift too. Now.”

Father hesitates. As his twin, Aunt Teale holds no magyckal sway. But as the matriarch apparent, she holds hierarchical power.

When he shifts, I’m pleased to see, with my one good eye, the torn chunks of flesh missing from his limbs. The skin is already stitching itself back together. We stare at one another with unadulterated hatred.

Aunt Teale rushes to me, all fury lost. Collapsing to her knees, she scans my body frantically. At the torn clothes. My missing eye. The bruises now revealed. Blood leaking out of my mouth.

“What happened?” she breathed, hands going to touch my wounds.

“Don’t touch me,” I choke out. “Don’t.”

Her hands snatch back like I’d burned them. Fury pinches her features. Slowly turning her head toward Father, she hisses, “What have you done?”

Father says nothing. I say nothing.

Within an hour, my brother is there. Devastated, Fynn immediately assumes responsibility for my care. Aunt Teale appears disturbed by my refusal to speak, but she can’t compel me to share what’s been done to me.

I’m still considered a child under Gondoran law, and since neither of us will admit what happened, Father’s allowed to return to the rubble of our former house with a few fines.

The next few weeks sweep by in a blur. My left eye’s lost for good. I’m provided with an enchanted orb in its place. Resembling gold starbursts on fire, it allows me to see different temperatures. This ability translates to perceiving the shapes of anything with a heat signature. I’ll never be able to see the world as before, but it’s fitting for this new chapter of my life.

3

Three Days After The Weyr Reunion

This man is in dire need of edible food in his apartment. Everything in his cabinets is expired. In my hand is a box dinner promising a healthy meal for two! — expired two years ago. This is food poisoning waiting to happen. What in the Hells does he eat?

With a sigh, I pull out my phone and place an order at a nearby delicious Satyr restaurant known for its vegan cuisine. Through the walls, I can hear Trinte showering. It warms my heart knowing he’s at least doing that.

Turning my focus to the dishes still needing to be done, I let myself sink into the rhythm of tidying up. Cleaning helps me feel in control when life is often so out of control.

Maybe it’ll help Trinte; maybe it won’t.

I can’t claim to know him well; we’ve texted over the last few weeks to coordinate about Orliana and Fynn, but it’s been surface level. Keeping with our verbal agreement to keep the past in the past.

Even if round two sounds amazing.

But I’m the one who insisted it was just once. To keep things from getting messy. Secretly, I’ve always hoped he wouldn’t respect my boundaries and try to pursue me. It’s my luck that he’s respectful. My guess is that the sex wasn’t as hot for him — not enough to spur him into action. That’s fine. Chemistry isn’t always mutual. I think.

“Where’s the food you promised?”

Startled, the soapy glass in my hand slips. It cracks against the metal sink. Trinte raises an eyebrow at my grimace. He’s in clean clothes, with his long hair braided down his back. He looks like the man I flirted with all those months ago, aside from his gaunt features.

“I’m so sorry.” I lift the glass, showing the long crack. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “That was my favorite glass, Kyrielle.”

Cheeks burning, I place it gently on the counter. For the first time since I stepped into the apartment, I’m hesitant. “I’m sor—”

He grins; it’s dazzling. “I’m fucking with you. It’s fine. I got it at a flea market for two corals.”

Exhaling with relief, I laugh. “Okay, I deserved that.”

He nods, padding into the kitchen. “But really, where’s the food?”