she wanted to avoid that.
“It was a wizard who attacked you, five years ago?”
Syrus sighed. “Yes. I never saw his face. I’m sure he meant to kill me. I was in a death-sleep for a long time afterward. When I woke up, the whole investigation was basically over, and I was blind. The wizard on the council, Devonte, tried to cure me.” Syrus snorted. “There were times that the things Devonte tried on me were more painful than the spell that blinded me.”
“So, we’re going to Maxcarion, specifically, because he was the one who attacked you?”
Syrus smiled. “You’re sharp, aren’t you? Yes. He was the wizard who attacked me. It’s not believed that he holds anything against me, personally. During the investigation, it was discovered that throughout the last few years, Maxcarion has been a mercenary. Someone else hired him to attack me. He is the best hope I have for restoration.”
Listening to him, Forest discovered she liked the sound of his voice immensely. She tried to think about what the last few years must have been like for him. If he was still considered a master of the Blood Kata, he would have had to have made serious adjustments, if not relearn many things to still be able to fight. But she figured that wasn’t the case. He had probably been allowed to keep his rank because he was the prince. She wanted to ask him about his formal training in the Kata, but those kinds of questions were too personal for a new acquaintance.
“What do you intend to offer him as payment?” she asked.
“That’s my business,” he snapped.
Forest huffed and picked up the pace. Annoyance tinged with reminder that she hated all vampires. This one might be good looking, but so what? Leith was good looking, and nothing would ever cure her of hatred for him. So that was that—she wouldn’t even try to soften the edges of her hatred. Since Syrus was bent on being rude, she would be coldly civil and nothing more
She looked around as she continued to power walk. The night was edging toward its halfway mark. The aquamarine moon was at its zenith, casting dim light on the road that stretched out before them. They were approaching a thickly wooded area. It was unlikely they would pass through unnoticed. She turned to tell Syrus this and found him, surprisingly, a long way behind her, obviously struggling to keep up. He wore traces of panic on his face, and she could tell by the way he was walking that he was in pain.
Forest ran back to him, filled with inexplicable concern. He stopped and exhaled raggedly. The scent of blood had her spine stiffening.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You were going so fast. This road is rough.”
Forest looked back along the road. The moon illuminated the smears of blood on the ground. Syrus’ feet were bleeding. So far, she was proving to be a poor caretaker. Well, it wasn’t her fault if the great moron refused to wear shoes.
“Come over here and sit down under this tree,” Forest said, reaching out for his hand, and then, remembering her silver jewelry, pulled it back again. He had followed her without assistance before.
Syrus took his pack off and sat down with his feet stretched out in front of him. Forest looked at his wounds. They weren’t deep and would probably only take a few minutes to heal.
“I need a drink,” Syrus said.
“Well, I don’t have one for you.”
“Sure you do.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Her mouth fell open in shock. Was he suggesting that she let him feed from her? Forest wasn’t sure how to best express her violent negative response.
Syrus shrugged and reached for his pack. “Some other time, perhaps.”
He dug his hand around inside, before pulling out a corked bottle. He ran his fingers over the neck of the bottle where Forest could see a few etched designs. He put the bottle down, reached into his pack, and withdrew another. Syrus ran his fingers over the neck of this bottle as well. It too was etched. His face held a look
“It was a wizard who attacked you, five years ago?”
Syrus sighed. “Yes. I never saw his face. I’m sure he meant to kill me. I was in a death-sleep for a long time afterward. When I woke up, the whole investigation was basically over, and I was blind. The wizard on the council, Devonte, tried to cure me.” Syrus snorted. “There were times that the things Devonte tried on me were more painful than the spell that blinded me.”
“So, we’re going to Maxcarion, specifically, because he was the one who attacked you?”
Syrus smiled. “You’re sharp, aren’t you? Yes. He was the wizard who attacked me. It’s not believed that he holds anything against me, personally. During the investigation, it was discovered that throughout the last few years, Maxcarion has been a mercenary. Someone else hired him to attack me. He is the best hope I have for restoration.”
Listening to him, Forest discovered she liked the sound of his voice immensely. She tried to think about what the last few years must have been like for him. If he was still considered a master of the Blood Kata, he would have had to have made serious adjustments, if not relearn many things to still be able to fight. But she figured that wasn’t the case. He had probably been allowed to keep his rank because he was the prince. She wanted to ask him about his formal training in the Kata, but those kinds of questions were too personal for a new acquaintance.
“What do you intend to offer him as payment?” she asked.
“That’s my business,” he snapped.
Forest huffed and picked up the pace. Annoyance tinged with reminder that she hated all vampires. This one might be good looking, but so what? Leith was good looking, and nothing would ever cure her of hatred for him. So that was that—she wouldn’t even try to soften the edges of her hatred. Since Syrus was bent on being rude, she would be coldly civil and nothing more
She looked around as she continued to power walk. The night was edging toward its halfway mark. The aquamarine moon was at its zenith, casting dim light on the road that stretched out before them. They were approaching a thickly wooded area. It was unlikely they would pass through unnoticed. She turned to tell Syrus this and found him, surprisingly, a long way behind her, obviously struggling to keep up. He wore traces of panic on his face, and she could tell by the way he was walking that he was in pain.
Forest ran back to him, filled with inexplicable concern. He stopped and exhaled raggedly. The scent of blood had her spine stiffening.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“You were going so fast. This road is rough.”
Forest looked back along the road. The moon illuminated the smears of blood on the ground. Syrus’ feet were bleeding. So far, she was proving to be a poor caretaker. Well, it wasn’t her fault if the great moron refused to wear shoes.
“Come over here and sit down under this tree,” Forest said, reaching out for his hand, and then, remembering her silver jewelry, pulled it back again. He had followed her without assistance before.
Syrus took his pack off and sat down with his feet stretched out in front of him. Forest looked at his wounds. They weren’t deep and would probably only take a few minutes to heal.
“I need a drink,” Syrus said.
“Well, I don’t have one for you.”
“Sure you do.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.
Her mouth fell open in shock. Was he suggesting that she let him feed from her? Forest wasn’t sure how to best express her violent negative response.
Syrus shrugged and reached for his pack. “Some other time, perhaps.”
He dug his hand around inside, before pulling out a corked bottle. He ran his fingers over the neck of the bottle where Forest could see a few etched designs. He put the bottle down, reached into his pack, and withdrew another. Syrus ran his fingers over the neck of this bottle as well. It too was etched. His face held a look
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