Pure as Gold by Kala Merseal

Author:Kala Merseal
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Seven Stars Press
Published: 2021-11-19T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Third Era 16018, The Imperial Palace, The Arrethean Empire

Orin stood in the main foyer of the palace, waiting for Jynira so that they could head out. Unlike Orin, the shapeshifter didn’t have the ability of teleportation, so the baron would have to rely on him to get them safely to Carilel.

Which was a perfect setup for Orin—well, as perfect as it could be. He’d preferred it if he could go and kill Xeren alone, as there was one minor hiccup in this entire execution mission.

Upon killing Lord Fallovax, Orin and Jynira would have to return with the hind woman back to the palace. He hadn’t quite figured out how he would skew the situation so as to return to Gellum with the vials of golden blood instead of the creature in the flesh.

But if there was anything that he’d learned when sitting with Gellum and Jynira for those few minutes, it was that Jynira was a spineless coward. Surely, there would be a way to coerce him.

Or...he could kill Jynira, crafting a tale of a battle that ended in both Xeren’s and Jynira’s deaths. What was one more death for a deal?

Orin was oddly determined to follow through for Lycia. Maybe it was the innocence in those sweet doe eyes. Her gaze had a way of tearing through to the soul.

Maybe it was the divine blood running through her veins. He found disdain in the idea of capturing and imprisoning a blessed mortal, despite his lack of reserves for any other mortals. He’d also always been reluctant to hurt women and refused to do as much during his campaigns through the empire.

But he had manipulated, cheated, and swindled women before. Even when he had ample chances of doing so to Lycia, he always returned.

“Must be the gods,” Orin mumbled to himself.

A moment later, he caught the sight of Jynira clambering down one of the side stairwells to the main floor, a satchel hanging from across his chest and a book clutched tightly to his chest.

“Ready?” the shapeshifter breathed, his wide, slitted eyes glancing over Orin’s person. “Is that all you’re bringing?”

Orin carried no bags. Two swords were strapped to his outer thighs, two daggers to his inner. His belt with pockets filled with potions and other trinkets looped through his pants. His thick commander’s coat snugly clung to him.

“I need nothing else.”

“No food, water, sleeping bags?”

“I plan to port to my rooms for the nights.” He narrowed his eyes at the baron, who grimaced with annoyance.

“Leaving me alone then? Do you trust me that much?”

“I distrust you so much that I allow myself to be unconscious around you.”

Slowly, Jynira nodded. “Fair enough.”

“Besides, I don’t need you around to kill Xeren. I can make my way to the estate from Carilel alone. His Majesty wants you along with me as a novelty.”

Jynira continued to glare at him and then with a huff, he said, “Let’s go then. Take us to Carilel.”

Orin rolled his eyes, ignored Jynira’s rigidness when he approached the shapeshifter, and gripped his shoulder.

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