Page 8 of Omen of ice
I have no idea what to expect, so I ready myself for anything. Winter Lord or not, Valen is the one I’m here for. He’s who I will die to protect. After a moment, though, he turns on his heel and strides into the crowd, leaving me no choice but to hike up my ridiculous dress and follow.
“I’d like for us to go somewhere and talk, if that’s okay?” I ask as I race to catch up. I’m not even sure he can hear me over the loud music, but his pace increases.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” he calls over his shoulder as we pass a blue-haired Fae carrying a tray of drinks. Valen snatches two as he passes. I expect him to hand one to me, but instead, he downs the first in a single gulp, then chases it with the second, depositing both glasses on the next server’s tray without looking back or slowing down. He reaches the large double doors and kicks at them in a single, brutal assault. They fling outward and clatter against the wall. “I respectfully ask that you go back to where you came from.”
“I— Go back to where I came from? Do you understand why I’m here? Are you confused?” I bite out each word.
He keeps walking but finally slows just a bit. “It’s possible. You’d be surprised at the number of times I’ve been asked that.”
“Wait.” I race ahead and jump in front of him, effectively bringing him to a stop. He sighs and slumps against the wall next to a darkened alcove. One eyebrow raised, I press on. “Look, you’re obviously unhappy to see me. Could you at least tell me why? Most Fae would be thrilled to have an Aphelian guard. Yet you…”
The muscle in his jaw flexes again. Once. Twice. Three times… He pushes himself off the wall and gestures to the hall. “I officially release you of your duties here. You are free to go wherever you want.”
I put my hands on my hips. “Iwantto be here.”
“You don’t know anything abouthere.Hereis highly overrated,” he mutters as he fishes into his pocket and pulls out a handful of coins. “How about I pay you?”
I stare at the coins in his hand, blinking several times to make sure I’m not hallucinating. “Pay me to what?”
“To leave. Buy a boat. Sail around the world.” He grabs my hand and dumps several coins into my palm. “Purchase your weight in cheese or ferrets. I don’t care what you do, as long as you don’t do it here.”
“You want to pay me—”
“Yes.”
“To leave?”
He quirks a brow and winks. “You pick things up quickly. Are all Aphelians as smart as you?”
“Wow.” This isn’t happening. Maybe it’s a joke? Some weird hazing ritual everyone forgot to tell me about? Whatever it is, I’m done.
“Impressed by my negotiating skills?” He laughs. “You’re not the first.”
“You got me. I’m impressed. But it’s not your negotiating skill that has me stunned.”
He pulls out a flask and raises it to his lips, but I grab it and throw it over my shoulder before he can take a sip. It bounces off the wall and clatters to the floor, spilling bright red liquid onto the marble.
He stares after it, mouth hanging open. “You—did you really just—I can’t believe you wasted perfectly good wine!”
“What’s stunning about you is the level of immaturity and lack of appreciation. Aphelians are hard to come by! Your uncle obviously cares a great deal—”
“My uncle is trying to protect a resource and nothing more.”
There’s anger in his tone, but also pain. Whatever the situation here, it isn’t a simple one.
“Valen, I—”
There’s movement in the corner. Then, a rush of footsteps. From the shadows, a tall form cloaked in black lunges for us. Silver glints against the dark, and I knock Valen aside and spin, reaching for the weapon’s hilt as it rockets toward us. I miss—shit!—and wrap my fingers around the blade instead.
The skin of my palm splits open, and I cringe against the sharp sting. A string of curses spills from my lips as I pivot, bringing my elbow up hard. It lands against the assailant’s jaw with a satisfyingthwack, and he stumbles back, quickly righting himself for another round.
“Get back,” I growl at Valen. He ignores me, standing by my side as the enemy roars with fury and charges.
“I gladly sacrifice myself, and my house, if it means saving our people from the Omen!” The attacker draws back to throw another knife at Valen.
I twist and kick out, sweeping my leg into the back of Valen’s knees. The action sends him down, cursing as he lands safely outside the path of the blade. As the robed figure lumbers closer, I grab his forearm and twist, changing his trajectory. He crashes into the adjacent wall, and the motion displaces his hood to reveal an older Fae with thinning silver hair and golden eyes.
Valen makes a choking sound, and when I glance down to check on him, he’s pale and staring at our attacker. “Keeper Fleeting?”
