Soul of the Crow: An Epic Dark Fantasy (Reapers of Veltuur Book 1) by Jessaca Willis

Author:Jessaca Willis [Willis, Jessaca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Jessaca Willis
Published: 2020-08-26T05:00:00+00:00

13

Among Mortals

Sinisa

Concealed in the shadows, I wait until Acari has disappeared inside the inn before I casually lean back against one of the alleyway’s walls. “I’m not sure you could be more obvious stalking us if you tried,” I say, sighing at the figure tucked farther down the corridor.

Nerul’s bloodred eyes gleam like rubies dazzling in the depths of a black lake. His skin is so pale, he blends in with the night like a ray of moonlight, but it’s his mischievous grin, the canines that puncture his lips as they peel back that truly stand out.

“Us?” he asks, taking a step forward and basking in the night sky. “Therein lies your answer. There is no us. There is only you. I fear you may be taking this whole befriend the king thing a little too far.”

“You know what I meant,” I grumble, trying to make it sound like his assessment is ludicrous.

“I’m not so sure I do. You were sent back to Tayaraan to find the Guardians and report their whereabouts to the Council—or whatever information you gleaned. And yet, you’ve made no progress in your mission. Even now, rather than working through the night, instead I find you hiding in an alleyway, waiting for the prince to return so that you two can…what? Share a romantic evening together?”

“It’s not—” I cut myself off. A cyclone churns inside me, but I ball my fists together as if my own bare hands are all that’s keeping my frustration tethered. I know Nerul’s tactics. I know he is only trying to get a rise out of me. I know giving into him will mean he’s won, and I’ve lost.

But as much as I hate losing, my grip is slipping.

Before my irritation can unleash, I remind myself that Nerul—as infuriating as he is—is my superior, someone I am expected to obey and respect, someone who will one day soon be my colleague.

My eyes flutter with a forced bow of acquiescence. “I apologize for the misunderstanding, Shade Nerul, but I assure you that I have no romantic intentions with the prince.”

“Pray tell then, why are the two of you back in Ngal instead of seeking the Guardians?”

Unable to control my nostrils flaring, I turn my head away, and instead focus on the celebrations carrying on in the street.

It’s not often I’m in Tayaraan long enough to witness the festivities preluding the Festival of Wings. My duty is to perform my task and return to Veltuur, so it’s rare I am ever around long enough to actually see the celebrations unfolding.

Tonight is mild compared to what is to come, but there are still a few citizens dazzling in outfits of charms and gemstones, their masks vibrant with red and yellow and blue feathers. Some people finish decorating the altars they created with a different bird figurine, color of fabric, or feather, to denote one of the eight Divine Altúyur, in hopes of earning their blessing for the year:

The macaw for intellect.

The lorikeet for bravery.

The quetzal for integrity.

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