Текст книги "Eyes of devious burgundy"
Автор книги: Lacey Lehotzky
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This book is written in American English.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by an electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author. The only exception is a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright 2025 by The Lehotzky Group LLC
ISBN 979-8-9915584-3-3 (paperback)
ISBN 979-8-9915584-2-6 (e-book)
Book cover by Beholden Book Covers
Published by The Lehotzky Group LLC
www.laceylehotzky.com
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Contents
Content Advisory
Pronunciation Guide
Deathcaller Duet Playlist
***
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
***
Part II
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
***
Part III
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
***
Part IV
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
***
Part V
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
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Content Advisory
If you are expecting to read about a war where there is a clear good and bad side, then An Age of War and Prophecy is not for you. The Great War between the Angels and Demons deals with genocidal intent and the religious fanaticism driving it. This series also explores religion as a means of social control, akin to the Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood.
If reading about women being treated as second-class citizens, forced to carry children they do not want, and forced to wear clothing to hide themselves will trigger you, do not continue reading.
The following trigger warning list is not exhaustive. The most up to date version can be found on my website.
Graphic violence
Genocidal war
Death of loved ones
Religious trauma & fanaticism (think Handmaid’s Tale)
Attempted sexual assault of the FMC (not by the MMC)
Physical & mental abuse (domestic violence from the FMC’s husband, not the MMC)
Suicidal ideation
Panic attacks & PTSD flashbacks
Nightmares
Branding
The sexually explicit content contains: knife play, primal play, shadow play, blood play, and punishment.
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Pronunciation Guide
Assyria – uh – seer – ee – uh
Birtok – beer – toke
Dromak – dro – mack
Fured – fure – ed
Grem – grim
Halálhívó – halal – hiv – o
Hadvezér – had – vez – ere
Izgath – is – gath
Jaku – yak – ooo
Kiira – kira
Kormánzó – core – man – zo
Kral – crahl
Lutsk – luh – tsk
Nayúr – nigh – ur
Olrus – ole – russ
Parancsok – paran – choke
Trol – troll
Rapp – wrap
Rokath – roe – kath
Százados – sah – zah – dosh
Stryi – stree
Ustlyak – oost – lee – ack
Uzadaan – ooze – ah – dahn
Uzhhorod – oosh – hor – ode
Vezető – vez – ehtt – too
Vidék – vee – deck
Xannirin – zan – eer – in
Zeec – zeke
Zurronar – zurr – oh – nar
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Deathcaller Duet Playlist
NUMB – Ryan Oakes
Like a Villain – Bad Omens
Blake Hole – We Came As Romans
Right Now – Fire From The Gods
Just Pretend – Bad Omens
Reincarnate – Motionless In White
Disguise – Motionless In White
Face to Face – Citizen Soldier
Kryptonite (Reloaded) – Jeris Johnson
Chokehold – Sleep Token
The Safety of Disbelief – Light The Torch
The Worst In Me – Bad Omens
Sign Of Life – Motionless In White
Always – Saliva
The Diary of Jane – Breaking Benjamin
I Hate Everything About You – Three Days Grace
A Grave Mistake – Ice Nine Kills
Sinner – Of Virtue
Carnivore – STARSET
When The Darkness Comes – Jeris Johnson
Rain – Sleep Token
Alkaline – Sleep Token
Iris – DIAMANTE, Breaking Benjamin
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7xckoeJ5s89yB3kwmTzyvO?si=MBVcH0NrTV66iX1e4QO5oA
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To the women with fire in their hearts and devious eyes that see through the lies: your voices can shatter silence and reshape the world. Be fearless. Be unapologetic. Be the sparks that burn the patriarchy to the ground.
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***
Vultures cast shadows over the blood-soaked sand as they waited for the battle to conclude and their next meals to begin. The vast expanse of desert had become a wasteland filled with twisted, dead bodies as the Angels and Demons fought for their respective realms. The flashes of white and black magic had died down until only a few remained standing, stained ruby from their fight and wielding whatever power they had left.
Except for one.
The male swung his long, bronze blade through the shoulder of an Angel, felling him instantly. Around him, more bodies lay broken, his brethren in various stages of dying, his enemies’ souls drifting, unable to move on without a pyre to burn their bodies. Massive black wings sprouted from his back as another group of Angels approached him, trying to encircle him now that he was alone. The surprise attack had decimated the entire battalion, but that did not evoke an ounce of fear in him as they crept closer.
A wicked gleam appeared in his burgundy eyes, and he smiled—a feral, deranged look that paused the Angels’ steps. He opened his palm, letting the blade thump against the damp sand beneath his feet. Swirls of black wrapped around his hands, twining through his fingers and racing up his arms to encircle his neck and torso. He inhaled deeply, tasting the metallic tang of blood in the air, and leveled his gaze on the Angels approaching him.
And then, he dropped to one knee.
He cocked his fist.
And pounded it into the dirt.
A shockwave of shadow swept across the field, and beneath their feet, the ground rumbled like the first tremors of an earthquake. One Angel cried out as he tripped and nearly impaled himself on a broken spear.
But his quick reflexes did not save him in the end.
From behind him, one of the bloody Angels rose, using his one remaining hand to grasp a sword. No life remained in his glassy blue eyes, and his expression did not change as he slaughtered one, then another of his former comrades. The approaching circle was soon surrounded by the reanimated corpses of both Angels and Demons, fighting against any who dared approach their master.
Screams rang out further in the distance as more and more bodies picked themselves off the bloody, burnt ground and fought against the living. Magic swirled faster, more frantically around the Demon’s arms as he pushed it further and further afield, drawing on every ounce of his shadows to break the would-be winners of the battle.
“Stop!” A cry rang out, followed by three blasts of a horn.
But the Demon did not stop, not as he advanced on the Angel’s
Padisa, his magic threading into each fresh corpse and turning them on those who remained standing in his way.
Until none were left living, save for the Angel Padisa who had ordered the attack.
One of his reanimated comrades held a blade to his throat and the Demon stalked forward, letting his footfalls ring out a death sentence.
“You’re the Halálhívó,” he gasped out, frozen in place as he was held against the flesh of the dead.
A low chuckle swept from the Demon’s chest as he regarded the Angel. “And you still chose to ambush me. How inept.”
With a flick of his wrist, he commanded the corpse to throw the Angel to the ground, where the male coughed and spluttered, heaving down air. The Demon crouched in front of him, and the Angel went deathly still.
“Normally, I would slit your throat and let the blood feed the Fates’ earth, but today I am feeling generous.” He jerked a knife from a sheath hidden in his boot, letting it catch the light before returning his attention to the Angel. In one rough movement, he caught the Angel’s face between his fingers and forced it to look up at him. “Run back to your leaders and tell them that you started a war.” The knife drifted closer to the Angel’s face, and he jerked back, attempting to flee. But the Demon’s shadows leaped out and pinned the Angel’s hands and legs in place. “Tell them that your attempt at assassinating me failed, and that the Kral will extinguish your kind once and for all. I am nothing but his humble servant.”
“Please, no,” the Angel begged, but it was too late.
The tip of the bronze knife already pierced his skin, and the Demon drew a deep line into his forehead. Blood poured from the wound, forcing the Angel’s eyes shut as a sob wracked his chest.
“There.” The Demon finished, releasing the Angel and stepping back to admire his handiwork. The shadows holding the Angel captive circled up his legs and arms until it dug into the fresh wound, causing him to scream again.
With a laugh that held only wicked amusement, the Demon let the shadows dissipate.
The Angel lifted his head to glare at the Demon, the H carved into his forehead sending cascades of garnet down his face. “I will find you again one day and make you pay for this.”
The Demon flashed the bronze blade again in the sunlight, allowing the corner of his lip to twitch into a smirk. “I have no doubt you will. Now, fly away like the insect you are.”
The Angel scrambled to his feet, spitting blood at the ground in front of the Demon, and took off into the skies, speeding away from the battlefield where the vultures were beginning their feast.
Caws filled the air as the Demon returned to his side of the battlefield in search of the lone horse that would carry him to the Demon Realm’s capital in Keleti. There, he would inform his Kral of the assault.
And then they would plan the final extinction of the Angels.
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1
Everyone I loved died. Maybe I should start loving my husband so he would too. The bastard stalked toward me, and I backed into the countertop, unable to flee in another direction. “You stupid, worthless bitch,” Vagach snarled, landing the back of his hand square against my cheek. My head whipped to the side, and I collapsed to the polished wood slats at my husband’s feet. Instinctively, I curled in on myself, covering my head before he could deliver another blow to my face.
The movement left my ribs vulnerable, and not a heartbeat later, he kicked them, sending the air screaming from my lungs. Something cracked, and a sharp pain robbed me of my next breath.
“How are you still not pregnant!” He shouted. All I could do was brace and wait for his next blow. It landed on my shoulder with enough force that I knew it would boast a fat, purple bruise.
I coughed, attempting to push my feet into the ground and distance myself from Vagach. Instead, he straddled me, using the tip of his boot to force me onto my back. Both my ribs and shoulder twinged from the movement. I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the words and the tears that wanted to spill over. Doing either meant risking further wrath, and my spirit was already so close to breaking.
“How long has it been now that you’ve failed the Fates?” Priestess Anara mused, not bothering to move from her position at the table across the kitchen, where she observed Vagach’s abuse with a passive air. The thick black cane that had landed across my knuckles and the backs of my knees too many times rested beside a mug of steaming tea in front of her.
Vagach and I had been married nearly eight years already, and for six of them, I’d dreamed of killing myself to escape the pain. Perhaps today would be the day he finally ended my life and released me from the prison he kept me in.
The Fates weren’t that kind to me. Neither was Priestess Anara.
“Eight years,” I wheezed out, glaring at her. I hoped she saw the hate in my eyes through the sheer black veil all females were forced to wear. This cold fury never seemed to dull even after all the beatings I’d been given for defying her and therefore defying the will of the Fates.
“Look at me,” Vagach growled, his hot breath somehow overpowering the wood stove threateningly close to my position on the floor.
I stole a brief moment to gauge the distance between my position and the doors that led to the gardens.
Too far to run.
Swallowing, I faced my husband. Flaming garnet eyes stared down at me, burning with so much hatred that I wondered for the thousandth time why he married me in the first place. I offered him a similar glower in return. “Maybe it’s you that’s the issue, and not me.”
He was on me in an instant, hand wrapped around my throat and shoving me harder into wood slats.
Please kill me.
“How dare you. After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?” His fingers tightened, making stars dance in my vision. My eyes fluttered, and my vision tunneled in on a pinprick of dark—my way out. I raced toward it, grasping for the freedom it offered.
At this point, I would take anything.
Vagach lifted me by my neck, forcing me to look into his eyes. Then, with a sound of disgust, he released me. My skull bounced against the floor, and the world went black before returning blurry. A groan slipped out of me unbidden.
Priestess Anara’s chair scraped against the floor, and then her footsteps approached me. I didn’t need my vision to be clear to know that the cane came with her. “You must obey your husband, Assyria. The Weaver laid out a great path for you to marry a Kormánzó. You must serve him. You must snuff out this spirit of yours, for that is why the Reaper has cursed your womb. In all your years under my care, I never managed to accomplish the task, so now Kormánzó Vagach must. Apologize to your husband.”
Vagach was the Kormánzó of the largest vidék in the southernmost part of the Demon Realm and the head of House Olmuth. Which apparently gave my noble husband the right to use and abuse me as he saw fit.
Blinking, I stared at the two cruel figures above me, trying to smother the anger inside me that wanted to burn this fucking house down with the three of us in it. “I’m sorry,” I managed to bite out, smothering the wince that came with movement in my ribs. I fucking hated that I was apologizing again; some of the emotion was directed at myself, but my husband bore the brunt of it. Perhaps we were meant for each other with the abhorrence stretched between us like a tightrope.
“You’re always sorry. When are you ever going to learn?” Vagach sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. A strand of hair escaped the band of leather that bound it at the nape of his neck. He tucked it behind his severely pointed ear before lifting his head again. “You know I hate doing this to you. Why do you make me hurt you?”
The words I wanted to say screamed through my mind, but instead of unleashing them, I slipped on the mask I knew all too well. Widening my eyes and sticking out my bottom lip, I tried to make myself look as innocent as possible. “Thank you for teaching me a lesson. I will pray harder to the Weaver and the Giver for a child, while begging the Reaper for forgiveness.”
That seemed to appease Vagach, because he rose and backed away, choosing to lean against the countertop as he studied me. His tunic was rolled up at the sleeves, displaying his forearms and the white knuckled grip he held over the elegant stone beneath his fingers. The shirt stretched across his belly, swollen from years of overindulgence. A half-empty bottle of liquor sat behind him, though the evidence wasn’t needed to know he was roaring drunk.
Gingerly, I tucked my feet beneath me, managing to sit upright without crying out. Priestess Anara didn’t offer me any help as I crawled to a nearby chair to hoist myself to my feet. The world swayed, and I sucked in a sharp breath, immediately regretting it.
“Clean yourself up and prepare for our coupling. With Priestess Anara watching over it, the Fates should shine their favor on us this day,” he snarled.
Ice shattered through my veins, sending my stomach plummeting to my knees. With trepidation crawling its way up my spine, I looked between the priestess and my husband, trying to figure a way out of the situation.
Fates, not now. Please, not now.
A slow smile spread across his face; he knew he had won and I was at his mercy. Even if I wanted to slip out of one of the arched windows, my injuries would make it impossible, a fact I was certain he knew. All Demons possessed an innate healing ability, which gave us such long lives, but injuries this severe took hours, if not days, to heal.
Swallowing down the rising panic, I gripped either side of my long skirts and attempted to curtsey, pain flaring as I did so. “Yes, sir,” I replied, dropping my chin to my chest and turning to exit the kitchen, trying to keep my steps light and even when all I wanted to do was bolt like a frightened deer.
Down the long, ornately carved hall I went until I reached our sleeping chamber, closing the door behind me before entering the attached bathing room. I shut that door too, if only to put a hair’s breadth more space between Vagach and me.
The deep stone tub called to me, and I avoided glancing in the mirror as I passed it, certain I would not like what I saw in my reflection. Perched on the edge, I turned the taps to open the flow, staring into the waterfall as if it were a crystal ball that held all the answers I sought.
Answers like, why did my husband choose me if all he wanted to do was abuse me?
His first wife died nine summers ago, and the next, he had decided I was to be his new bride. When Vagach appeared on the doorstep to our humble abode in the middle of a field of corn, my father, barely managing to feed our family, had readily accepted his proposal.
Perhaps it was my burgundy eyes, one of the most powerful Demon colors, or my long hair, or my body toned from years of working the fields with my mother, father, and sister. Perhaps he thought our impoverished state would make me more submissive to his whims. Perhaps it was none of those things.
Fates, how I wished I’d died in the plague that swept through the Demon Realm the past winter, claiming my parents, sister, and nearly a quarter of Stryi, the primary city in the vidék. The healers said the illness was brought back from the front lines of the war, some sort of curse or concoction the Angels had set on the Demons in an attempt to turn the tide in their favor. Priestess Anara said it was a warning from the Weaver that we needed to bear more children for the Kral’s mandate to exterminate the Angels and conquer all of Keleti.
Whatever the cause, I was still grief stricken; the mere thought of my bubbly, bright sister’s ashen face as she coughed the last bit of blood from her body would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my millennia-long life.
Warm water now filled the tub, and I stripped off my veil and dress, biting down on my lip as the overhead movement sent a twinge down my left side. One by one, I placed my feet into the water, sinking into its welcoming embrace and letting it soothe my injuries. Tucking my knees into my chest, I rested my head on them, silence enveloping everything but my thoughts.
Vagach’s determination to impregnate me was disgusting, but that was what females were for—bearing as many children as we could for the Demon cause. My husband was a social climber, and having multiple powerful offspring would raise his station and catch him more attention in Uzhhorod, the capital of the Demon Realm. The Kral might even offer him the title of Nayúr, which came with privileges like a set of apartments in the palace.
There wasn’t anything left for me here, so it wasn’t like it mattered whether we stayed or went. Besides, my body was no longer my own. I was nothing more than a brood mare for my husband, just as Priestess Anara had taught me to be.
Lifting a hand from the water, I flicked droplets onto the window beside me, watching them roll to the floor before repeating the motion. At least they were able to race away from here. This was what my life had come to—baths with broken ribs and daydreaming of dunking my head under the water and never coming up again. Hope of finding a way out of my situation had stuttered to an ember, and I wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before it was doused completely.
Though this soul-deep rage, at always being told I was worth nothing until my belly swelled, at everything I had endured first under the tutelage of Priestess Anara, then under the control of Vagach, had stayed my hand more times than I could count. Something burned within me that needed to be unleashed, and I had a sick feeling that explosion might spark this day if Vagach planned to couple with me in front of the priestess again. The last time, she’d held my hands above my head while he shoved up my skirts and forced himself inside me, humping furiously until he filled me with his seed. Then, she’d remained there with me until nearly an hour had passed and no hope of washing Vagach away remained.
When the water cooled, I tucked my feet beneath me and rose from the tub, wrapping a bath sheet around my body and walking to the mirror. A small cut decorated my cheekbone, the blood already dried on the swollen tissue around it. My normally symmetrical face, marred by my husband’s hand. I cleaned it with what remained of the bath water, then perched on a stool and brushed out my long, ebony hair before braiding it down my back.
As my fingers twisted and twined, I stared out the window at the sprawling garden. At first, the rows of roses had been my greatest joy, with their voluminous petals in dozens of shades that bloomed at different points of the year. I’d spent so long working the fields for sustenance that I’d never been afforded the luxury of cultivating something beautiful. Vagach bought me rare varieties from far flung parts of the Angel Realm, often difficult to grow in the southern part of the Demon Realm, but under my care they had flourished.
They were as dead outside as I was inside now.
Once the end of my hair was secured in a burgundy ribbon, I gave myself a final once-over. My almond-shaped eyes and plump lips would be hidden, along with the healing bruises, soon enough beneath another sheer sheet of black. With a sigh, I rose, slipping into the sleeping chamber again. From the wardrobe, I pulled out another plain, modest black dress and shimmied into it before donning a blood-free veil and pinning it in place. Vagach normally liked to see me without both when we coupled, but I wanted to save as much of my dignity as I could for this encounter.
My heart hammered helplessly in my chest, as if its racing could take us away from here, from what was about to happen. The beating came to a frenzy when voices drifted down the hall, accompanied by heavy footsteps.
They were coming.
Hands shaking, I managed to climb onto the wide bed and lay directly in the center, hands folded over my abdomen. The simple gold ring with a tiny garnet stone that had belonged to my mother twisted endlessly around my forefinger as I waited for the inevitable. At least, with my husband’s wealth, the mattress was soft. Our entire house was filled with fine furniture, yet I appreciated none of it, not when my existence was so caked in misery.
The door creaked open, and I stopped breathing as Vagach and Priestess Anara entered the room. They didn’t bother to close the door behind them. Every muscle in my body wanted to leap into action, to fight back against further torment.
But I was powerless; I was trapped, and there was nothing—never going to be anything—I could do about it. Not when females were subservient to males and we relied on them for everything.
“I will say a prayer before we begin,” Priestess Anara stated, perching on the edge of the bed and yanking a hand away from my belly to hold. I flinched, but her grip was like a vise and my hand moved nowhere. Outside, birds chirped, and I clung to the sound, imagining that I was one of them, with the breeze ruffling my feathers and the ability to fly far, far away from here.
The sound of Vagach’s belt unfastening filled the air a moment before the priestess began a rhythmic chant that I’d heard far too many times in my life. I tuned it out as I willed myself to remain still, to not make this any worse for myself than it already would be. But that fire burned with me, hate growing so large and so thick that my small body was never going to be able to contain it.
Smother it, Assyria!
The wood frame creaked as Vagach joined us, and my knees involuntarily clamped together.
“May the Weaver look kindly upon this union and thread a path to children for Kormánzó Vagach and Assyria. May the Giver offer their child abundant, rare magic. May the Reaper cast her shadow elsewhere so that Assyria’s womb bears fruit.” Priestess Anara finished her prayer with a touch of our joined hands to her forehead, and I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the inevitable feeling of Vagach settling between my thighs.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
The sound caught my attention like nothing had in recent months, and my eyes snapped open. Priestess Anara and Vagach’s attention were torn by it too, both looking at each other and then around to the door. My focus bounced between them, the door, and the windows as the drumming grew louder, closer, much like the beat of my own heart against my ribs. But it wasn’t the footfalls of someone else in the house. This sound was like distant rain mixed with rumbling thunder, the type of storm that informed you of its approach before it cracked open the sky above you and swept away everything in its path.
A whinny broke the still air, and my eyes widened as I realized what the sound was—hoofbeats. Disregarding my husband and Priestess Anara, I raced to the paned window. Our estate was on the outskirts of the Stryi, which meant we were always first to spot new arrivals, though a sprawling garden surrounded by wild, thorny bushes blocked most of the view.
Poised on the tips of my toes, I tried to peer over them. Dust kicked up off the main road in the distance, though the forms were indistinguishable in the mid-morning light.
“Out of my way,” Vagach growled, shoving me to the side. I barely managed to avoid colliding with an expensive vase on a pedestal as he filled the space I had occupied. The priestess joined him, hushed whispers passing between them. I crept around toward the window closest to the bathing room, desperate to see who had come to Stryi in such large numbers.
“Assyria,” Vagach barked, and I spun to face him. He tucked his tunic back into his pants and refastened his belt. “Stay in the house and do not come out for any reason.”
“Why? What is going on? Who are those riders?” I asked despite my better judgment. I’d never been great at keeping my mouth shut. Priestess Anara shot me another warning look, like I didn’t already know I’d pushed the limits of what the two would tolerate that day.
“No one you need to concern yourself with,” he snapped, smoothing his hands over his long, neatly tied hair—always a source of pride to my noble husband.
The corners of my mouth dipped down, causing a twinge of pain from the bruise on my cheek before I smoothed my expression again. Vagach narrowed his eyes at me as I stood before him, twisting my fingers together, my lifelong nervous tic. I dropped them away and patted my skirts, “What about temple?”
“You may skip temple today,” Priestess Anara stated, and my heart leaped at the thought of a day free from hours of prayers on my knees, the priestess, and her wicked cane.
Vagach wasn’t finished with me, unfortunately. “I still expect you to pray to the Fates and ask for them to weave you a destiny that includes powerful children, Assyria. Later, I will check that you have made the proper offering as well. We will couple when I return.”
I offered my husband a saccharine smile that felt more like swallowing a bitter potion. “You are so thoughtful.”
What I wanted to say was that he was controlling, but with the dark cloud that clung to him, I didn’t want to risk another bruise decorating my face. Priestess Anara would only say I deserved them all for failing to bear children, and I was tired of hearing how much I was failing at something I had little desire to do.
“I mean it, Assyria. Do not leave the house. You are too important to me.” The wood floor creaked as Vagach shifted closer to me. I suppressed the urge to take a step back.
I sighed, then offered him a nod. “I will remain here.”
“Thank you.” He reached out to touch me, and I flinched, regretting the move instantly. He clenched his jaw but continued forward, grasping the hem of the veil and lifting it. The way he kissed me was vile, and the pungent alcohol on his breath made me want to gag. My lips did not purse against his, and too much time passed before he pulled away.
I stood there, stiff and holding my breath, until the door to the room slammed shut behind them. Only when I no longer heard their footsteps did I relax.
The urgency with which Vagach and Priestess Anara departed left me more curious than anything, and I needed to know what was happening. After all, who would travel so far south in such large numbers?
A small smile turned up the corners of my mouth as an idea sparked in my mind. I’d use my magic to make a temporary escape from the house and satisfy my curiosity. A sense of giddiness filled me as I crafted a quick plan. These small moments of rebellion were what I lived for, and with how reckless I already was with my life, why should I deny myself the opportunity to taste freedom, if only for a few precious moments?
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