Page 23 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

“Oh, it’s real.” His arms trembled as he held himself there. “Ingesting our blood would kill a mortal, but smooth . . . it over a wound? A scar? It will be healed. Sprinkle it on barren land and crops will flourish. Bury a hand . . . in freshly plowed soil, and crops will flourish there too, ones insusceptible . . . to drought or disease.” His chin dropped even farther. “Our teeth dropped into water can create coin.”

“Really?” Doubt crept into my tone as I realized his blood had seeped through my cloak and stained the nightgown.

“Really,” he confirmed. “But that’s not all.”

“Of course not,” I murmured.

“Keeping an eye of ours . . . near will warn the wearer of anyone . . . who approaches,” he continued, and I didn’t even want to know how one wore an eye. I could go my entire life not knowing that. “Our tongues will force the truth . . . from anyone who speaks, and weaving strands of our hair . . . among yours? It will ensure one remains . . . in good health as long as the hair stays in place. Our bones . . . can restore one’s health.”

“Oh,” I whispered, somewhat transfixed.

“Burying our fingers and toes . . . will bring water from deep within the land,” he went on. “Strips of our . . . of our skin hung above a door will ward off thenix.”

“That’s disgusting.” A chill swept through me, though, at the mention of the creature. Thenixwere related to the Hyhborn in some fashion and were found in the woods where usually only long game hunters entered, especially in the Wychwoods— the vast sacred forest rumored to have trees that bled. The woods skirted the territories of the Lowlands and the Midlands and traveled all the way to the Highlands. The creatures found within them didn’t look remotely mortal and were more frightening than birdeaters— ridiculously large and horrifying spiders with claws. I’d never seen one, either a birdeater or anix.

“What do . . . they look like? Thenix?” I asked.

“Have you . . . seen a Rae?”

I shuddered, thinking of the Hyhborn riders that were more bone than flesh. “Once.”

“Imagine that . . . but thinner, faster, and with sharp teeth and claws,” he told me. “And they can get in your head, make you think you’re seeing and experiencing . . . what is not there.”

I stiffened, breath catching.

“So perhaps . . . knowing what they look like no longer makes hanging our skin at the doors too disgusting,” he remarked. “Then there . . . are our cocks.”

“I’m sorry,” I choked. “What?”

“Our cocks,na’laa,” he repeated. “Being in possession . . . of one will ensure that the owner . . . has a very . . . fruitful union.”

I opened my mouth, but I was at an utter loss for words for several seconds. “There is a part of me— a huge part of me— that regrets having this conversation.”

“There is more,” he said, and I thought his tone had lightened. Almost teasing. “I haven’t . . . even gotten to what our muscles— ”

“Great,” I muttered. “Is the chamber still moving?”

“No.”

Thank the gods. I reached for the straps on my nightgown.

“Our come,” he said, and I halted. “It’s known to be a . . . powerful aphrodisiac. Some mix it with herbs to rub . . . on themselves. Others drink— ”

“I get it,” I cut him off, having heard of potions that promised to increase the pleasure of those who used them. “Just to make it clear, I’m not after your blood or . . .”

“Or my come?” he finished.

“Definitely not that,” I snapped.

“What a shame.”

Shaking my head, I shimmied out of my nightgown. I refused to think about what I was doing as my bare skin pimpled in the damp heat. “I’m undressed, by the way.”

“That sounded oddly . . . like a warning,” he murmured. “As if knowing you’re naked would somehow prevent . . . me from looking.”

“It’s not a warning. It’s just to let you know so you can be polite and not look.”

“I know we . . . don’t know . . . one another, but you . . . should know, I’m not known . . . to be polite.”