Page 45 of Guardian of Exile

Fuck.

“I thought you said he couldn’t see us.”

“He can’t. He can, however, still attempt to track us.” If he kept trying long enough, he would break her Hiding.

She got the next portal open and wasted no time dragging Tristen through it with her. Then she opened the next and the next and the next, until eventually they were back on city streets, and she was able to open the portals to greater distances away.

“Will you just slow down a minute,” Tristen demanded, holding her back when she tried to pull him through another portal. “We are going in the opposite direction of where I live.”

“Good,” Nyx said. Her breathing was labored, and she was tired from flexing so many magical muscles in Dead Earth. “Leading them the wrong way first is good.”

“I’m not trying to judge your relationships,” Tristen began, “but it doesn’t seem like you should have to work this hard to get away from your friends.”

“It sounds exactly like you’re judging, and they’re…overprotective right now. They have their reasons.” She took another deep breath and another string of portal magic. “Which way back to your place?”

He pointed to her left.

“Great.” She tried to muster some enthusiasm as she opened yet another portal.

“Could I have my hand back now?” Tristen asked. “I’m perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

Nyx hadn’t realized she was still holding on to him. She looked down and a ripple of pain went through her, seeing it entwined with hers. She had to make herself look for the differences. His fingers didn’t have Seth’s long, tapered elegance, didn’t have the same calluses. There was nothing to confuse.

“Staring’s still rude,” Tristen said, ripping his hand from hers. “And it’s not catching, I promise.” He wiggled the three fingers on his right, then the five on his left. “See? These are all still here.”

“That’s not what I⁠—”

“No?” he taunted. “You just looked horrified for some other reason? Like you did when you first saw me?” He took a step closer, into her space, looking down at her. “What was it? Did I have dirt on my hand?”

Anger welled up in her. Rationally, she understood that he was trying to provoke that response, even if she didn’t understand why. But it didn’t stop her from having it. His similarity to Seth in appearance had her emotions on a razor-thin edge. “I don’t give a fuck that you’re missing fingers, Tristen. I’m sorry if people are generally assholes about it, but not everything is about you.”

He smiled, and remembering how he’d laughed when she’d mouthed off to him earlier, she suddenly had a very good idea why he’d pissed her off. He was drunk on the experience of someone not tripping all over themselves to fawn over him because of what he could do. Really drunk on it, if the way his gaze dropped to her lips was any indication.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she said, “but I think you have issues.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he echoed, “but I think you have issues.” She frowned, and he pointed at her hand. “In my professional capacity as a healer, that’s not normal.”

She looked down. Her veins were black from her hands up to her elbows.

“Also,” he said slowly, almost as an afterthought, “your irises have flecks of red in them.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath, then opened them again. “How about now?”

“Just blue again.”

Well, at least that hadn’t changed. “Great. Can we travel the rest of the way in silence?” She gestured to the portal she’d been holding open like she was ushering him into a ballroom. He stepped through. She followed, and she had her blissful silence as they made their way across the city. She zig-zagged the path, even backtracking a few times and leaving false trails in other directions. It wouldn’t fool Kaden forever, but it should buy her some time.

Tristen’s building was on the Upper East Side, right up against Central Park, and she had to shoot out a hand to stop him when he tried to make for the front door. “Trail,” she reminded Tristen. If they just walked into the building, Kaden would realize this was the correct trail to follow and not bother with the other false points she’d left.

Her gaze traveled up. And up. And up. Ideally, she would portal them onto the roof and find some kind of stairway access to lead them down to his floor—which would also hopefully be high enough up that Kaden would have difficulty finding it—but the problem was, the roof was slanted. She squinted, which was pointless, because squinting did not turn her eyes into binoculars.

Funneling another few strands of portal magic, she focused on the roof. The portal opened and she stretched it wider, wider, looking for anywhere—there. A terrace jutted out from the penthouse. Large tan tiles covered the floor, the perimeter lined with potted plants in ornately carved stone containers. She stepped through. To her left, a fountain ran down the wall and emptied into a shallow basin, while to her right a massive sectional surrounded a low marble table. Beyond, the terrace stretched on, wrapping around the corner of the building.

No one was on this section of the terrace, and if anyone was on the floor inside, her Hiding would keep anyone from noticing her and Tristen’s arrival. Sneaking through someone’s home to reach the elevator wasn’t ideal, but it wasn’t as if they would be seen. She shifted the portal down slightly and stepped through. Tristen did not follow her. He was staring through the opening with a slightly green look on his face.

“Portaling across the city doesn’t bother you, but portaling up does?” she asked.

His eyes narrowed, his jaw taking on a set that made it clear he thought she was making fun of him. She wasn’t, she was just…having difficulty human-ing. Given the number of times they’d already been at each others’ throats, however, she didn’t think he would believe her if she told him that.

Considering the multiple misinterpretations of her reactions that he’d had so far—even if he seemed to like her abrasiveness—it would be a miracle if he agreed to help her. “Come on.” She stuck her hand back through the portal. He ignored it, his jaw taking on a mulish set, and crossed over on his own. He didn’t relax until she let the magic go. Then he started walking for the sliding glass doors.

“Hey,” she hissed, grabbing his arm. He stopped, looking down at her hand. She let go. “Sorry. Before we go in there, my magic has limits, especially here. If you run into someone, they’re going to know you’re there. My magic will break and they will see you. So just…be quiet so we can find the elevator or whatever to your floor. I don’t want to have the owners of this place call the cops on us.”

Tristen, for some reason, looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“What?” she demanded.

He shook his head. “It’s all right,” he said, heading for the doors again. “I promise not to call the cops on you.”