Page 29

The mirror twines my hair into one single braid and dresses me in a long sleeved black gown that cinches around my waist. It’s tighter than what I’m used to but inconspicuous enough I don’t think I’ll draw attention.

We weave our way through dimly lit halls. He’s switched out his usual black for a white top that hangs loose on his long frame. Something about the way he carries himself is so damn dignified. I crinkle my nose. The unmistakable, distinguished arrogance of a prince.

We shuffle down a set of stairs that opens up to a significant dining hall. A huge chandelier casts the room in a warm glow. Like his chambers the floors are a dark mahogany. White tables are dispersed around the room and every witch seated among them stops and stares as we enter. If the prince notices the abrupt change in atmosphere he doesn’t acknowledge it, a bored expression painted across his face. I scurry after him using his large form as a shield.

The loudest of the bunch is a substantial group that can’t be too far in age from us. They sport a wide variety of spectacular hair colors—purple, green, blue. The hair colors aren’t the most curious thing. A few have wings, horns, and animal ears, the same as the ones I saw when escaping to the Blood Wood. They fall into hushed whispers as their gazes sweep over us. Sitri turns, and I shift with him to keep my hiding spot, forcing him to turn to the other side to find me.

“What’re you doing?” He pushes me in front of him. “You’re so weird.” I tip my head, letting my hair curtain my scalding cheeks.

He leads us to an extensive buffet filled with an extravagant variety of food. I pick a few things that are familiar to me and leave the food I don’t recognize. I stand there lamely as Sitri takes an eternity, filling his two plates to the brim. Eyes track our path as we venture to a table at the corner of the room.

He doesn’t waste a second before he begins scarfing it down. The sound of his chewing is grating, but it’s not that which deteriorates my appetite. It’s the many eyes casting in our direction, lingering on my newly exposed face. I catch the word ‘nought’ and ‘Nightshade’ out of the jumble of voices and squirm in my seat. It all feels so much worse now that I know my true purpose in being here. To cause Sitri shame.

“Princess.” My nerves are stretched so tight that one word makes me flinch. “You should eat. You’ve barely eaten.” His voice is soft and coaxing.

“I’m not hungry.” I can sense him scrutinizing me, and my face flushes as I pick at my food just to have something to busy myself with.

“You blush often,” he notes.

“I’m not used to being seen,” I hiss.

“It makes me feel guilty. Like I’m doing something wrong for merely looking at you.”

“Then don’t,” I snap.

He laughs. When I look up, he’s still staring. I raise a closed fist in front of my face to block his view.

“You do know we have to live together, right?”

“Figured that out, thank you.”

“Would you rather still be wearing that thing over your face?”

“No—but,” I look around, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Aren’t you embarrassed to be seen with me?”

He feigns an expression of shock. “Of you ?”

Not buying that for a second, I fix him with a bland stare. “You told me I was your punishment, that it was emba—“

“I said that was the idea, not that I was,” he interjects. “I quit caring about the things they say about me long ago, pet.” He stands swiftly and pulls my plate away from me. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere more private so you’ll actually eat.” He heads for a swinging door on the far wall and holds it open. The kitchen is vast. Glistening silver cabinets occupy every inch of the walls, along with numerous stoves and sinks. Rags scrub at white plates of their own accord. They filter into the opposing sink and rinse themselves clean under the tap by that same invisible force.

At the center of the kitchen, seemingly unaware of our entry, a woman is leaning over the counter, scribbling in a notebook. “I think tomorrow we’ll do the roasted chicken—so go ahead and set it aside and prepare the potatoes.”

I search the room for who she might be talking to. There’s no one else to be seen. Sitri steps forward and clears his throat. The girl finally notices and jumps so hard that she sends her writing utensil flying into one of the bubbling sinks. “Oh! The prince!” she gasps, clutching at her chest. I recognize her voice immediately.

This is my ally—Vera, she said her name was. Every square inch of her apron is covered in an array of stains and speckles of flour. “My—my prince,” she corrects with a disheveled curtsy.

Sitri steps forward, settling our plates onto one of the gleaming counters. “Vera, I know it’s been a while since I’ve been in here, but come on, it’s Sitri,” he says, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

“Sitri—sorry, it’s just, yes, it’s been a while, and I wasn’t expecting to see you here. In here,” she points a finger toward the floor. “And, I don’t know—I thought maybe I don’t know…you anymore—I mean, I don’t know what you prefer anymore,” she prattles on, obviously flustered.

“From you, I prefer Sitri, always. Sorry for startling you.” He twists his fingers, and a dripping, soapy pen appears on the counter in front of her.

“Thank you.” She picks up the pen and wipes it clean with her apron.

“And, I swear to the Gods if I ever see that pitiful-looking curtsy again—“

“It was pitiful, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” he agrees with a grin.

Vera breaks into a grin, too, dipping her head. “Sitri…it’s good to see you.”

They stand there silently for a moment and I feel like I’m intruding on some kind of reunion and idly wonder if they have some kind of romantic history. Vera’s cute, freckles sprinkled across her cheeks, and a reddish tint to her hair that’s pulled back into a messy bun. Her gaze turns to the plates he’s set on the counter. “Wait—is something the matte--”

“No, no,” Sitri interjects. He turns back to me, still lingering by the door, and ushers me in. I search his face, waiting for that cold change in his demeanor that displays his disdain for me and this marriage but it doesn’t appear. Based on the surprise splashing across Vera’s features, it’s apparent she hadn’t even noticed me yet. “Syra, this is Vera. Vera, this is Syra, my—well, I’m sure you’ve probably heard.”

Her eyes grow wide. “Oh! You’re um—yes, I did hear. And, we spoke through the door.” Her surprise melts into a warm smile. “Hello, it’s so nice to meet you face to face.”

“Hi,” I say shyly.

She turns back to Sitri. “And I’ve been bringing the plates up just as Avice asked me to.”

“Thank you for that.”

“I was hoping, if it’s not too much trouble, Syra and I could eat in here with you?” Surprise etches her face again. “Less lingering eyes,” Sitri explains.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” she says. Something in her demeanor seems stiffer and less enthusiastic than before she realized I was here, which makes me suspect they do have some kind of romantic history. Yet, she still saw fit to bring me the supplies.

Sitri flicks his hand and two stools appear. He takes a seat, diving back into his plate, no less noisy than a dog slurping down a bowl of soup. I take the stool across from him and pick apart my roll into tiny pieces, staring daggers into the side of his head. He turns to face me. “Wha’?” he asks, garbled with a mouth full of food.

“The sound of your chewing makes me—“ I break off, remembering we’re in company. “Maybe I shouldn’t say,” I say quietly.

“Why shouldn’t you?”

I pointedly assess Vera and his bafflement increases. “What?” he whispers.

“I’m trying to be good .” When his mystification doesn’t wane, I throw up my hands. How does he not remember the huge lecture he gave me? “A good pet ,” I snap.

Surprise splashes across his face. “Oh. You can act however you want around Vera.”

“I can?”

“Yeah.” He flashes me a grin and points at his chest. “Wait, are you…listening to me?”

“I was going to say the sound of your chewing makes me want to stab this fork into my eye.”

“I was hoping you’d stab it in your mouth, you know, with food on it. Have you ever had lamalias?” He gestures to the foreign dish that’s a mixture of some kind of pasta and meat. “You should try it. It’s delicious.”

“No, that’s alright—“ He ignores me, swiping my plate away to shovel the lamalias onto it before scooting it back in front of me. Vera’s lips are pursed as she stomps around the kitchen, slamming cabinets. “I don’t think she wants us here,” I whisper.

“She is acting odd. Suppose it’s been a while since I’ve talked to her.”

“Do you two have some kind of history?”

His brows furrow. “History? Yes?”

Hesitantly, I scoop up the foreign dish, surprised that I actually do quite like it. “Maybe she’s not too pleased that I’m here.”

“Vera’s not like that.”

“Ugh, no, I mean, maybe she’d prefer it be you and you only.”

He squints at me. “What?”

“Never mind,” I mumble. God, he can be really dense sometimes.

Sitri turns smug when he notices I’ve eaten every bite of the lamalias. “Do you want more?” he asks, nodding to my plate.

I shake my head. “I’m fine.”

He proceeds to get up and disappear behind the swinging door anyway. As soon as Vera notices Sitri’s left, she bolts over to me. “Hey, how are you doing?” she asks, brow wrinkling with concern. She pats my hand and then grabs my wrist to study the fading red marks from the blood roots, face appalled.

I lightly tug my arm back and hide it behind the counter. “I’m doing okay.”

“I told you if there’s anything you need, all you have to do is ask. That still stands.”

“Thank you.”

“If you ever need me to send you anything or I don’t know what I could do, but if there’s anything you can think of, just let me know.”

The swinging door clatters as Sitri makes his way back in, and Vera’s eyes grow hard again, mouth pressing into a firm line. She gives my hand a couple of pitying pats before she stomps away.

He settles a plate with more lamalias in front of me. “Thank you,” I murmur distractedly, still puzzling over that interaction with Vera.

“Oh!” I gasp as I put it together, recalling what I’d confided in Vera the last time we spoke. I’d told her Sitri murdered children. No wonder she’s acting so hostile. “Hey.” I kick him in the shin to get his attention while Vera continues slamming things on the other side of the kitchen. “I think she thinks you’ve…done something,” I whisper.

“What?”

“I mean, I might’ve said something to her…” I trail off, biting at my lip.

“What?”

“She might think that you murdered children,” I whisper sheepishly.

“What?” he gasps.

I grimace.

“You told her that?”

I shrink in my chair. “Yeah, maybe I did tell her that, um, on my first day here.”

His lips mirror his widening eyes.

“I thought it was true!”

“You haven’t bothered to correct her?”

“Forgot. And when you left the kitchens she was saying some things to me but she wasn’t exactly being forthcoming about it, and I didn’t really piece it together until now.”

“Gods. She really believed that?”

“Seems like it.”

He rubs a hand over his forehead. “Vera?” he calls.

She turns around with fire still in her eyes.

“Could you come here please?”

She hesitantly makes her way over to us and shifts back and forth on her feet. “Is there something I can get for you?”

“So, it turns out Syra and I had a bit of a misunderstanding on our way here. See, we ran into some mylings.”

“Oh, that’s not good,” Vera murmurs, her confusion as to the relevance blatant.

“I took care of them. It wasn’t a big deal, really,” Sitri says, all arrogant nonchalance. “But—“ He clears his throat. “Syra was carrying a piece of theurgynate on her person, which made her see them in their true forms. So to her, they appeared to be children, so you can see how that would be quite--ah-- confusing .”

Vera’s lips part.

“We have since worked it out but Syra says she may have said something to you that made you also confused ,” he says carefully.

Vera’s eyes dart back and forth between us as her face reddens. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t really think you would do something like that, Sitri. It’s just I haven’t seen you since—and with the way your father was—I mean, now you work for--“ She claps a hand over her mouth. “And, with her being a—“ She smacks her hand over her mouth again.

“A nought,” I finish.

She grimaces.

“It’s okay, really. It’s good to know Syra has another ally in this place where she has so few. I am grateful for that.”

It’s not until Sitri turns to meet my gaze that I realize I’m gaping at him. He cocks his head, and I quickly shut my mouth. His behavior is all so jarring.

Vera’s shoulders loosen slightly, and she nods vigorously. “She’s always welcome here in the kitchens. The both of you are,” she corrects.

“I could certainly use any aid in looking out for her I can get. She is increasingly difficult to keep alive.” He turns, lip curling. “Though that’s mostly her own doing. She is very crafty, Vera. She crafted a rope out of her blanket to climb down the balcony. And, then, she ran off to the Blood Wood of all places and almost got herself eaten.”

“Does she really need to know all that?” I hiss.

“Oh, yes. I think she should know exactly how capable you are despite your rather innocent-looking face. And, in case you get any bright ideas about having Vera bust you out of here,” he says all too knowingly. There’s a streak of panic slashing across Vera’s face. Likely wondering if Sitri is aware that she’s already attempted to aid me in escaping but I would never throw her to the wolves like that.

“You should know, Vera, I’m only trying to keep her safe. It is dangerous for her here with her being a nought which is why my door has remained locked.”

I sulk into my plate, wondering why in the hell I decided to confide this in him again. Vera could’ve been useful for me. She definitely won’t be now. “How many times is it I’ve saved you now?”

“Can’t remember,” I grumble.

“I believe it’s been four times at the least.”

“How will I ever repay you?” I ask sardonically. Vera snickers, and I flash her a grin. I already liked her before but I definitely like her now.

Sitri rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. “You don’t owe me a thing, princess. It was my honor to save you from imminent death.”

“Not sure if it’s worth all your gloating.”

“Fine. I’ll make you a deal. You can repay me by trying this.” He gestures to some sort of pastry on his plate. “And I will never gloat about it ever again.”

I blink. “Really? That’s it?”

“Just a bite,” he says, tearing off a piece.

I narrow my eyes. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. You have my word. I only want to free you of your culinary restraints.”

He holds the piece of pastry out, and I cautiously lift my hand to retrieve it. He yanks it just out of reach. “Ah ah. Allow me.”

My brows crumple even further. “No gloating? Ever again?”

“Not a word.” I lean forward. He watches me intently, eyes fanning halfway closed as it brushes my lips. I’m about to open my mouth when I remember: You’ll be following me around like a puppy, eagerly waiting for my return, so desperate for whatever scraps of attention I give you, I’ll have you eating from my hand in no time.

I snatch my head back with a snarl, and he laughs heartily. “So close.”

Vera’s eyes are darting back and forth between us once again.

He leans back in his stool. “She’s wild, Vera. I’m trying to tame her into a proper pet, but—“

I unleash another growl, holding back a string of curses. “As you can see I still have a ways to go. You’ll have to excuse her. They do things differently beyond the Wall. She’s not used to civilized society quite yet.”

“You are the opposite of civilized society, and I’m not your pet.”

He stuffs the rest of the pastry in his mouth and licks his fingers. I make a face of disgust. Vera leans back against the counter, watching our interaction with interest and a speckle of confusion.

“Speaking of acting civilized…on a serious note, our wedding party is tomorrow and I need to make sure you understand…“ He turns to face me and breaks off with a bedraggled sigh when he sees my thickening glower. “What do you want, pet?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean in life. Your deepest desires?”

“You already know what I want,” I say blandly. “I want my freedom.”

“Right,” he says morosely. “Afraid I don’t have any spare freedom myself to give.”

“You’re not the one being locked in a room all day.”

He picks at his nails. “A different type of subjugation.”

“What type?”

“What would you do if you were free?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“I dunno. I would… live ,” I say with a shrug.

He huffs a breath. “You’re living now. Thanks to me and my measures.”

Vera busies herself on the other side of the kitchen, manning the stove but I can tell she’s still quietly listening in. “What exactly do you think is going to happen to me if you let me out?” Someone will immediately sink a knife between my ribs?”

“I know they would,” he says gravely.

“What does living even mean to you? What would you do?”

“I don’t know. What does everyone else do?”

He laughs. “I don’t think you even know what you want. You don’t even know what freedom looks like, do you?”

“They do…things,” I add sheepishly. “They get to…experience. They go places, try new things, they explore and interact with whoever they want, and they get to choose—“ who they marry. “They get to choose everything. They have lives. They live and I...I’ve never had any of that.”

I stare down at my plate, wishing I hadn’t admitted quite as much. A long silence passes before he sighs, “Gods, that is dreadfully sad.”

I look up, looking for signs that he’s toying with me but his brows are pinched, eyes sincere as he draws his teeth over his bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I wish I could give that to you. Anything more attainable that you want?”

“Like what?”

He throws out a hand. “I don’t know. I’m not a nought. Or a girl. What do you even like?” He asks, scrutinizing me like someone would examine a strange creature.

“I wasn’t allowed to have possessions,” I mumble.

His face goes from mystified to incredulous. “You weren’t allowed to have anything? You don’t intend to keep abiding by that, right?”

“No?”

“Well, then, I think girls usually like…Vera, what do you like?”

“Shoes?”

“Shoes? Jewelry? Fancy soap? Perfume?”

I narrow my eyes. “Why are you asking?”

“Look, I really need you to follow my lead tomorrow. Play your role. Do as I…say?” he asks, gritting his teeth uncertainly.

“You’re trying to bribe me,” I accuse.

“I’m trying to come to an agreement with you,” he corrects. I remain deadpan and he looses another sigh. “I played your game with your father, did I not? No questions asked? Play my game.”

“Technically you did ask questions.”

“Why did you have me threaten your father?”

I stubbornly shift away.

“Questions you refuse to answer.”

“It's different. You got to threaten my father. You enjoyed doing that. You want me to act like your pet,” I snap.

“It's not like it's for my own gratification. It's for your protection. You don’t understand the way things work here”

The fact that he’s trying to bribe me insinuates that maybe he doesn’t have the means to control me with magic after all…it doesn’t make any sense…I can feel it. Or he at least doesn’t have the power to control me to the extent he needs.

It doesn’t change anything.

I still want to get out of here, find the noughts, and start a new life. In order to do that I need to understand how to navigate his world. I wrack my brain, trying to think of something that will make it worth it for me to heed his request. “I want to know more about your world. The world,” I correct.

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know…everything.”

He laughs. “That might take me awhile. Anything more specific?”

“How can I know what I don’t know?”

“Fair point.”

I recall the strange features of the Magi outside. “Those…Magi out there with the wings and horns. Are those real?”

He laughs softly. “No, it’s just a glamour. Like a magical facade,” he offers when he sees my confusion.

“Could you do anything with a glamour? Could you make yourself look like someone else?” If this was some sort of potion I could get my hands on that could be incredibly beneficial.

“Whatever you can think of if you have the artistic skill. They are tiresome to keep up, though. Most Magi do not have the stamina to hold them for very long.”

“Stamina?” I repeat in question.

“The magical power necessary,” he clarifies. “They’ll probably only wear them for a few hours at most, and most stick to smaller accessories, like wings, horns, ears, things of that nature.”

Not helpful to me when I have no magic. “Do you have any?”

He hurriedly averts his gaze, lip pulling down. “Does it look like I have any?”

“No, but if it could be anything, how would I know?” His eyes narrow the slightest amount. “You do have one,” I accuse.

“It’s rude to ask people what their glamours are,” he says curtly.

“How am I supposed to know that?” I scrutinize Vera across the kitchen who’s also studying Sitri with newfound curiosity. “Do you have any?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t have any.”

I turn back to Sitri. “You’re really not going to tell me what--”

“Oh,” he interrupts, eyes suddenly lighting up. “I have something I think you’ll like.” He stands up to dig something from the pocket of his trousers. Once it's in his hand I have no idea how he managed to fit the black leather bound book in his pocket in the first place. “This is my grimoire. Let me just show you,” he says, scooting his stool over to seat himself next to me. I’m accosted by the smell of his cedar like scent. When his leg brushes against mine I lean away slightly to lessen the contact between us.

“If there’s anything you want to know about, for instance—“ A few twitches of his fingers and Vera’s pen on the opposite counter floats into his outstretched hand. He scrawls mylings across the blank page in terse, neat print. My lips part as the page fills with words and illustrations of the most grotesque monsters.

“You mean…I can ask it anything?”

“Most things, I’d say, we have knowledge of. When you’re through, draw this symbol.” He etches a mark that resembles a backward e with three dots next to it and the pages immediately clear. “And, it will empty again.”

He scoots the book and pen in front of me. Eagerness plumes in my chest. This is exactly the sort of thing I need. “I can keep it?”

The book in front of me slides across the counter into his outstretched hand. “We have an agreement? Meaning tomorrow or any event going forward, you’ll do exactly as I ask of you when I ask it of you?”

“Within limits…”

“Pet…”

“That seriously depends on what you might ask of me.”

“Well, I’m definitely asking that you don’t scowl or glare or whine or stomp your feet, or just generally act like a disrespectful brat when we’re in the vicinity of other Magi. Don’t antagonize them. They’re already going to despise you for what you are. And especially not Morin. ”

My eyes roll to the back of my head with a sigh.

“Or roll your eyes. Forgot that one.” He picks up the grimoire, waving it enticingly. “Not very many of these left in the world, and they’ve gotten ungodly expensive.”

“Don’t you need it?”

“I do…but I’ll let you have it…if…” He tilts his head down expectantly waiting my agreement.

“I just have to do as you say…tomorrow? At our wedding party?”

“Any time we’re in the company of others,” he corrects.

My eyes stray across the room. “Except Vera.”

“Vera’s cool. You can act as bad tempered as you want around Vera.”

She flashes me a grin that I can’t help but to return. I turn back to Sitri still uneasy about making such a vague bargain with him. Agreeing to do anything he asks, it's well, I don’t know what that could entail. “But you’re not going to like ask me to…”

“To what?”

“I don’t know…” The possibilities are endless. The one that springs to mind has the blood rushing back to my cheeks for the umpteenth time this evening. I know he’s made the connection when his face twists with horror.

“Gods, I—I wouldn’t ask you to do anything unsavory, pet,” he says distastefully. “I’m only trying to protect you.”

“I want you to quit using magic on me.”

He snorts. “I’ve barely even been using magic on you.”

“Have you?” I ask, suspiciously.

His face contorts with incredulity. “What? No.”

I study his features. He seems so genuine yet I don’t trust him at all. “And I want to know what your glamour is.”

His eyes immediately turn to stone as he turns face forward in his chair. Several seconds pass, his face hard and contemplative. “ That’s what you really want to know?” he grumbles.

“Yes. And I want the book.”

“Fine.”

“What is it?”

“Not here,” he says under his breath, eyes surreptitiously darting toward Vera. “Later.”

I reach a hand toward the book. He slides it over, an aggravated movement, still not meeting my eye.

Vera’s watching us from across the room, expression oddly…hopeful. “Do you make everything?” I ask, gesturing down to my plate. “It’s really good.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile and a shy tip of her head. I catch the tail end of something zooming across the room. I tense as glass shatters against the opposite wall.

Vera whirls. “Oh, Gods forbid someone compliments me.” Another soapy plate emerges from the sink, levitating there for a moment before it's suddenly hurtling across the room. It shatters against the cabinet, sending glass scattering across the floor. “This damned spirit, I swear.” She barely ducks down in time as a plate flies over her head. “Fine! I didn’t make it by myself. Kobold helped.”

Another plate rises from the soapy water. Vera shields her body with her hands. “I mean, I helped Kobold, Mother, Maiden and Crone,” she swears. “He did most of the work. Under my supervision,” she adds quietly.

“Is that better,” she asks, flinging her hands up in resignation. The plate settles back into the soapy water. She forms a variety of symbols with her hand and the shards of glass disappear. “Sorry, he gets really jealous.”

I look to Sitri for some sort of explanation. “Kobold is the spirit that runs this kitchen. Vera manages him.” He leans forward. “Or tries to,” he whispers. “I think this is our cue.”

I thank both Vera and Kobold to prevent further attempts at her life. “It was really nice to meet you,” I say as we tug ourselves to our feet.

“She does have manners,” Sitri grumbles.

“At least one of us does,” I snipe.

“Thank you, Vera,” he says pointedly.

“Please do come back,” Vera says.

“We’ll be back,” Sitri promises, eyes meeting mine as he says, “As often as we can.”

He’s quiet as he navigates us through the dim corridors. I scrutinize his profile, puzzling over both his polarizing nature and what he could possibly be hiding under the layer of magic. He snaps his head to the side. “What?”

“What’s your glamour?”

“You’re really not going to let this go, are you?” he groans.

“How do I even know that this is what you really look like?”

He snorts, irked expression turning into a smirk. “Are you implying that you think someone would choose this face?”

I tip my head. “I think you’re already far too aware of that.”

He stops suddenly, staring at me intently. “I think…that was a compliment coming from you.”

“It’s too bad about your personality.”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes before he barks out a laugh. His grin fades as he chews at his lip. “I promise this is what I really look like.” He cocks his head to the side. “Mostly.”

There has to be some kind of detectable clue the magic leaves behind. His eyelashes are unnaturally long. “Is it the eyelashes?”

He laughs. “No.”

“Will you take it off?”

“No,” he says, eyes flashing hard as he turns and starts back down the hall.

“I thought we made a deal?”

He lets out another weathered sigh. “It's a scar.”

“Oh.” I immediately feel guilty for pestering him about it.

“Told you it was rude,” he says snidely.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Would you like one?”

My face pales. “A scar?”

His eyes widen and he laughs. “No, a glamour.” He quirks a brow at me. “Wings? Horns?”

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” I breathe, very much preferring he keep his magic off of me.

“Cute little animal ears for the pet?”

“Fuck off,” I mutter. His answering laugh echoes down the hallway.