Page 78 of Infernal Secrets

Wrapping the hairband around the end of one of his smaller braids, he asked, “Work? You don’t get more time off?”

“I used it all. Besides, I need to keep moving or I’ll get depressed.”

He hummed. “I get that. I volunteered for everything the council would let me do when my parents died. Not much work for a seven-year-old, but I made do.”

“You were only seven? What happened?” I pressed my lips together and added, “If you don’t mind me asking.”

A shadow passed over his face, and I wondered if I’d overstepped.

The strange bonding last night had my mind jumbled. I needed to take a step back.

“I’d wanted to see my dad off when the men loaded up for an expedition out to Moicae. There’d been reports of a bluskol manipulated by dark magic en route to Elyrdin. They were to catch and subdue it, and if they couldn’t remove the spell controlling it… slay the beast.”

I wanted to ask what a bluskol was, but he looked so lost that I knew the timing wasn’t appropriate.

“My mom made me do chores that morning, so I missed my chance to say goodbye before they headed for the city’s wall. But I was determined.” He shook his head. “I had a gift for him—a good luck charm the council’s spirit guide gave me. Nothing was going to stop me from giving it to him.”

I reached for his hand as he swallowed hard.

“They’d already left the city by the time I reached the gates, but I could still see them in the distance. I didn’t think it’d hurt anything.” He looked at the window across the room, clearly not here with me anymore. “I thought the walls around Elyrdin were just to protect us from lesser infernals and beasts from Moicae, not Feranzis too. I should have known better. I found out that day why no one uses cars outside the walls.”

I squeezed his hand when he paused, encouraging him to talk. He seemed like he needed to. My heart thumped hard in my chest, and I rubbed my sternum with my other hand.

“Didn’t know Mom followed me to make me go home. So when I reached the caravan and heard a woman’s scream, it scared me. Dad and his men all rushed to her aid, but it was too late. A horde of ixrian tore Mom to shreds, then turned their fury on Dad and his men.” His jaw worked as he fought his emotions.

That same alien sensation from last night uncoiled low in my belly, and I wondered if it came from our joined hands. Still, I clenched his hand in mine.

“Before I could run away, a juvenile ixrian broke from the pack and came after me. One of Dad’s men killed the creature before it could kill me, but not before it left its mark.”

He turned, lifting his shirt just enough to reveal a jagged scar slashing across his tanned skin, faded but still raised, stretching across his lower back from the hem of his jeans to his hipbone.

When I touched the scar gently, he flinched, and I pulled my hand back.

I knew it didn’t hurt, but he likely didn’t want someone touching something so personal. I didn’t know what compelled me to touch him—I’d done it without thinking—but before I could apologize for overstepping, he turned to me, continuing his story.

“After I collapsed to the ground, another one of Dad’s men grabbed me and ran for Elyrdin’s gates, while the others kept the frenzied horde distracted.”

I noticed his fingers tremble, so I took his hand again as his eyes took on that same faraway look, fixed on the sunlight streaming through the bedroom window. He’d gone back to that place again.

“He wasn’t fast enough, though. Not fast enough to keep me from seeing an adult ixrian garrote Dad, hoisting him into the air on the end of its massive limb that doubled as a blade—a larger version of the blade that sliced my back.”

His hand clutched mine in a punishing grip, but I didn’t make a sound even when my stomach roiled at the visual he painted with his words.

“There was so much terror in Dad’s eyes when they met mine. Then his body split into two halves when the ixrian’s arm sliced clean through him.” He ground his teeth. “Dad hadn’t even fully transformed, too focused on Mom. He didn’t stand a chance, but he died a true Shyrlivi warrior, protecting his Nyrith.”

Nyrith? Where had I heard that word before?

Shaking the thought, I shifted to my knees on the bed and wrapped my arms around Ash’s waist. I wasn’t tall enough to hold him the way he held me in the graveyard, but I could give him this.

His arms wrapped around my shoulders, his head resting on top of mine.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I wouldn’t insult him by using words I hadn’t wanted to hear when my own parents died. He deserved comfort and acknowledgment. Not empty words.

He said nothing, but something deep in my stomach shifted as the foreign feeling affecting me receded.

I jumped when a throat cleared.