Page 40 of Heir of Broken Souls

Delilah’s lips twitch, her smile turning saccharine. “Sometimes they are,” she says.

With a quick snap of my fingers, I wipe any trace of blood from her skin and clothing. I know the feeling of having blood on your hands. It’s a sensation I don’t wish upon anyone.

“Care to share your story?” I drawl, sliding one hand into my pocket and the other along Delilah’s lower back.

The woman tracks the movement with indifference. “I’d rather you see for yourself.”

“Very well.”

Before anyone can so much as move, I encase the three of us in shadows. As dark and thick as a bottle of ink, I sweep us all into the clutches of my power, and the ground beneath our feet drops out. The shadows are partly to obstruct the woman’s view of my home, to disorient her enough so she doesn’t know how far I’m taking her—or how little. And partly so I can hold Delilah under the cover of the darkness. I haven’t been able to since this all began and I just need…her. My lips twitch with a smile as I press my nose into her hair, the scent of her vanilla shampoo invading my nose. It’s immaculate. The best thing to ever grace my senses.

I teleport us with a thought. Smooth concrete greets my feet and my shadows leave us as quickly as they appeared. Teleporting can leave one quite discombobulated for their first time, but the strange woman stands poised, her chin held high. She quips, “No chair?”

Without so much as a muscle twitch, I make an old rickety chair appear behind her.

She has the gall to roll her eyes and mutter under her breath, “Clearly comfortability is too much to ask for.”

“I think under the circumstances I’ve shown you far more grace than others would have.”

At this, shehmphs. “Is that what we’re calling attempted murder these days?” Still, despite complaining, she takes a seat, one leg crossing over the other. “There’s no need for torture. I’ll tell you everything you wish to know and allow you in my mind for the confirmation you seek.”

“That’s not a small feat for a seer.”

Delilah sucks in a sharp hiss of air. That is what my power felt. It’s for that reason why she seems oddly…fine with all this. She knew what was to come.

“The information I possess is far greater than my unease,” she says. The girl moves and acts with an air of confidence, but it feels forced. It’s like she lacks care for her life.

Before I can respond, Delilah asks, “What’s your name?”

“Elysia.”

Something within Delilah’s features makes me appear on the bridge. The door to her mind is still shut but I can feel the sense of familiarity on her end.

What is it, Angel?

I remember…something. There’s a memory dancing at the edge of my mind, but it’s toying with me. I can’t see it all.

It’s strange, but we suddenly have bigger issues. Axel appears through the bars of the cellar door. A flash of pain crosses his face once he finds the protection I’ve erected around us—from him.

“You don’t need to be here for this,” I declare, taking a tentative step in front of Delilah and Elysia.

“Yes, I do,” he says gutturally. “You know I do.”

A tense moment fills the room. Unperturbed, Delilah putters about, lighting the sconces along the walls with her golden flames for warmth.Drop the shield. We might need another witness for this.

She doesn’t seem worried about the situation, or her magic, at all. Perhaps now that she’s allowed herself to transform, her power won’t fight her for control any longer.

That is until Elysia whispers, “So it’s true. You really are a golden one?”

The flames lower, dissipating without a tendril of smoke, as if they never existed.

“Fascinating,” Elysia breathes.

“This is not a meeting about my mate. I suggest you stay on topic,” I say coldly, leaving no room for argument.

But the promise of harm in my tone does nothing. Her eyes wander, past Delilah, toward where Axel stands in the doorway. Her eyes widen a fraction and her breath hitches, the sound small and yet mighty in a room full of Fae.

It doesn’t soften Axel’s hard stare. If anything, it makes his body turn to stone.