Page 15

He shrugs one shoulder and looks away. "How am I supposed to know?"
I can feel my composure slipping, the easy charm giving way to something sharper. "You were around her a lot."
His eyes snap to mine with the harsh tone. "If she wanted you to know, she would have told you."
Sucking in a deep breath, I force my wings to relax, to fold neatly against my back instead of flaring with agitation. The gift box seems to burn a hole in my pocket.
Swallowing back the urge to show this guy how little he is compared to me, I give a sharp jerk of my head. "If you see her, let her know I came by."
I stalk off, knowing he won't.
But at the back of her building, I stand there like an idiot, staring at the locked door of the entrance that leads up to Ronnie's room as twilight deepens around me. The village is settling into evening quiet—lamps being lit in windows, the distant sound of someone playing a stringed instrument, the smell of cooking fires carried on the breeze. Everything continuing as normal while my carefully established routine crumbles.
"She can't just be gone," I mutter, running a hand through my hair.
I should leave. Return to Soimur and Lord Ithuriel with my messages delivered and forget about the fierce human woman with auburn hair who so expertly keeps me at arm's length. This thing between us was never meant to last—it wasn't even supposed to start. She was just another human in just another village, someone to charm for information and supplies. Then somehow she became the one person who could see through my practiced smile, who never fell for my carefully calculated charm.
And I've been coming back every month like a starving man to a feast.
My wings stretch and settle against my back, betraying my agitation. I scan the village square, as if Ronnie might suddenly appear, arms crossed and lips pursed in that way that always makes me want to kiss her until she's breathless.
My eyes flick to the door again. I could get inside easily enough—the lock on her back door is flimsy, designed to keep out ordinary thieves, not a determined xaphan. I could look for clues to where she's gone, why she left without a word...
The thought brings me up short. Since when am I the type to break into a woman's house because she didn't wait around for me? This is exactly the kind of complication I've spent my life avoiding.
Still, I don't leave. In the gathering darkness, it looks abandoned, lonely somehow. I run my fingers along the doorframe, feeling the rough wood beneath my fingertips. The gift box in my pocket seems heavier now, a tangible reminder of expectations I shouldn't have developed.
"She's not there," a woman's voice calls from behind me.
I turn to find an older human woman watching me from the path, her silver-streaked hair pulled back in a practical knot. She carries a basket of what looks like herbs, and the faint scent of healing tinctures surrounds her—the village healer, then.
"I can see that," I reply, letting a hint of impatience color my tone. How many people are going to fucking tell me that. Her eyes widen slightly at my voice—humans always seem surprised when we don't sound as ethereal as they expect. "Do you know where she went?"
The healer approaches cautiously, studying me with shrewd eyes that miss nothing—not the tension in my shoulders, the restless shifting of my dusky gray wings, or the way my fingers keep brushing against my pocket.
"You must be him," she says finally.
My eyebrow arches of its own accord. "Him?"
"The xaphan she never mentioned by name." The healer's mouth curves in the ghost of a smile. "The one she pretended wasn't important."
Something warm and uncomfortable unfurls in my chest. I smother it quickly.
"Where is she?" I ask, forcing lightness into my voice.
The healer's expression turns sympathetic, which is somehow worse than suspicion. "She's gone, young man. Left the village days ago."
"Left?" I repeat stupidly. "Where to?"
"She didn't say." The healer shifts her basket to her other arm. "Just sold what she couldn't carry, locked up her house and shop, and went. Guess she needed something different."
The information hits harder than it should. Ronnie, gone. No goodbye, no explanation. Just... gone.
"I see," I manage, my voice cooler than I feel. "Well, that's... unexpected."
The healer gives me a look that sees too much. "Was it, though? Whatever you two had going, it didn't seem built to last."
I can't argue with that, though the blunt assessment stings. Our arrangement had been about convenience and attraction,not permanence. I have no claim to Ronnie, no right to be standing here feeling this hollow ache beneath my ribs.