King's Blood by Jill Williamson

Author:Jill Williamson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction-Fantasy & Futuristic;FIC042080;FIC009030;FIC009020
ISBN: 9781441230737
Publisher: Baker Publishing Group
Published: 2016-12-28T05:00:00+00:00

Grayson

Kateen shoved a bowl of fish and stale bread through the slot at the bottom of the cell door. “You cannot hide the truth from us, boy.”

When he didn’t answer, she stalked away, muttering about fools.

I see you. I see you. I seeeeee you, a shadir crooned as it drifted just far enough through the wooden door to show its three bulging eyes. The thick door presented no hindrance to a creature of the Veil.

Grayson pretended he could not hear or see the shadir. He was so hungry he scarfed down his meal, barely chewing before he swallowed. The shadir cackled and made slurping sounds. It soared in and out of Grayson’s cell, a stroke of blurred yellow that almost looked like light in the darkness.

Come with me, boy, the shadir sang. Come into the Veil, where you can be free. Come, come, come with me.

Grayson ignored it, though he cringed each time it passed through his body. Once he’d licked the fishy juices from the bowl and his fingers, and there was nothing left to do but sit and feel the lump of food in his belly, he began to realize several things.

First, he was growing. It always happened slowly, like an ache in the back that needed a good stretch. They must have put evenroot in his food. He’d been so hungry he hadn’t even tasted it.

Second, they meant to trick him. They’d sent the shadir to watch him. Grayson could push into the Veil and walk through the door, go hide. But the shadir would see. It would follow him. Call its companions to tell the Chieftess where he was, and she would use her magic to control him.

So Grayson pretended to be normal. A normal boy locked in a cell would call for help, so Grayson yelled and shook the door, pounded his fists on it, then got down on the floor and reached one arm out the food slot, feeling his way up the door as if he might find the latch. All the while he could tell that his hand was nowhere near the lock.

He didn’t like his bigger body. Getting down on the floor was harder than it used to be. His arm was thicker, and the narrow slot pinched and scraped his skin. After a while he sat against the wall, listening for rats and brushing his fingers along the downy hair that had grown on his jaw. He fought back tears. Crying was something a boy would do, and he had told the Chieftess he was a man. If he cried, the shadir would see and tell. So he slammed his feet against the opposite wall, sending all his frustrations into each kick.

He shouldn’t be here. Onika had never said he would be captured. Did that mean Onika was wrong about some things? Or . . . had she kept this a secret? It hurt his feelings that Onika might have thought Grayson was too little to understand important things.

He kicked harder.

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