Page 16 of Omen of ice
Buri’s mouth hangs open. “I know the rules, druid. You cannot lay a finger on me unless I am a threat to Valen’s life.” She narrows her eyes. “Valen is far too precious to me. I would sooner die than see him harmed.”
Her words would be comforting if I didn’t know the truth behind them. It’s not me that’s precious to her—it’s the power. It makes her seem oddly obsessive at times.
The Aphelian grabs the front of my tunic, then seizes Buri’s arm before she can react and uses it to slap me across the face. Hard. “There,” she says. “Now you’ve hit him, and I’ve perceived you as a threat. Irritate me again, and we’ll revisit the argument.” She steps away and gestures to the clearing with a devilish grin. “Carry on.”
I bite down on my tongue to keep from laughing. This is a side of her I didn’t see yesterday. Less formality and more attitude. I don’t want to like it, but the truth is, I do.
And it just reinforces that I have to get rid of her, the sooner the better.
An hour and a lot of ice later, Buri sighs. She’s barely taken her eyes off the Aphelian the entire time. “That’s enough for today. Same time and place tomorrow.”
“Actually, no.” The Aphelian stands and brushes the snow from her clothes. She shivered through most of the lesson, but I choose to ignore her discomfort. It would call attention to her humanity, herweakness, as Buri would undoubtedly label it. I don’t want her here, but I have no desire to embarrass her.
The Aphelian declares, “Tomorrow’s lesson will take place somewhere else, and at a different time. Someone will contact you in the morning with the details.”
“How dare—”
The Aphelian moves her cloak and rests a hand against the hilt of her sword. Buri seethes but doesn’t say another word.
We leave her stewing on the hill and head into the woods. The Aphelian keeps my pace and says nothing as we move, though she constantly scans the area. Looking for threats? Taking note of all the small details? Maybe she’s simply looking for a place to shit.
I insisted there was no need for protection, but the truth is, my enemies have become increasingly brazen with each passing day. It’s only a matter of time before someone catches me unaware. I’m moderately skilled in hand-to-hand combat, but living each day without letting my guard down has become exhausting. It’s resulted in one too many close calls, and sooner or later, someone is going to get the better of me. I’ll need her to watch my back, at least until I can figure out a way to get rid of her.
And, in order for her to do that, she needs to know a bit about me.
“Keeper Fleeting’s attack had nothing to do with his daughter.” The words come easier than I expect. The truth is, I barely know his daughter. She tried to seduce me once, and I politely refused. Angry, she started the rumor to save face, and I never corrected it. She has no idea that she did me a favor. Fueling my already lecherous reputation only helps keep focus off my lesser-known traits.
The Aphelian shrugs but doesn’t look at me. “I never believed it did.”
“Obviously, she found me irresistibly attractive, but nothing happened between us—which I’m sure her father knew.”
“Mmmhmm.” She keeps walking.
“Fleeting is one in a small but determined group of Fae who will never tolerate a bastard on the throne. Since Orbik has no heir…” I let go of a pained chuckle. “It also doesn’t help that several years ago, I did something. Accidentally used my magic in front of someone. My aunt did her best to cover it up, but, as I’m sure you know, rumors spread. Because of that, some believe I’ll be their end.”
“The Omen…” She stops walking and turns, and I almost suggest heading back to the estate. She’s trembling from the cold, and her lips have an almost blueish tint.
“Heard that, did you?”
“I’m fairly observant, Valen.”
“Yes, theOmen of Ice.There’s an ancient scroll that foretells the destruction of the Winter Court. A child born of two factions will have the power to freeze the world and bring an end to our way of life.” It’s largely regarded as the stories of Vey Brill—a cautionary tale. But some believe. Some, like Fleeting, believe so fully that they’re willing to die for it.
She snorts and rubs her hands together. “That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree, but added to other things like my eyes…”
“What’s wrong with your eyes?”
“Have you ever seen a Winter Fae with violet eyes? It feeds the whole two-factions bit—even though, as far as I know, none of the other courts have hereditary violet eyes.”
“That’s the problem with prophecies. People read into them as is convenient.” She starts walking again. “So, your eyes are different? They’re unique. Personally, I think they’re beautiful.”
“Beautiful, eh?” I jump in front of her, grinning. “I’ll allow you to gaze longingly into them if you’d like.”
She rolls her eyes, shoves me aside, and keeps walking. Every once in a while, when she thinks I’m not watching, she shivers. There’s no point in suggesting we head back, though. Less than twenty-four hours, and I already can tell she’s stubborn.
She slows as we come to the next ridge and holds her hand out to catch several flakes of falling snow. Bringing her palm up, she inspects them with the smallest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips as the snow melts away. “Where are we?”
