Quill of Thieves

Chapter 42

A girl, one who most definitely was not Lambert, pushed her way through Matthias's front door. Matthias nearly stumbled backwards into the opposite wall in her haste as she demanded entry. The door snapped shut behind her, and Matthias made sure to keep his gaze from the stairs where he hoped Astrid no longer sat on his windowsill.

Odds were slim on that front. 

"You shouldn't be here," he snapped. "It's too dangerous."

She was clad head-to-toe in a heavy blood-red cloak. The hood, which she kept up, was lined with dark fur and strapped at her waist was a leather belt from which he could see a slim arrow swinging. He would bet money on the fact that her trusted bow created the bulge at the top of her spine. Matthias assessed her harried appearance with a little more caution. Her hands shook from where she held them in front of her stomach, slender fingers twisting together, stark white like bleached bones. She kept her head bowed, her long neck swaying from left to right as if in anxious search.

"What's happened?" He slid the bolt into place for extra measure and stepped towards her, taking her by the arm. "Did anyone see you?"

Abel shook him off and tossed off her hood. "Something's happened to me."

"Besides a concussion, which could be the only explanation as to why you are here?"

Even the edges of her soft, auburn hair shifted, trembling. "Just shut up and look at me!"

At first, Matthias wasn't sure what she intended for him to see. Her words had been soft; it should have, perhaps, been his first clue. They released on a shaky breath, though she didn't sound pained. Instead, it was fear in her voice. Awe. Horror. Besides, Matthias couldn't smell the metallic scent of blood, so it didn't appear she'd been hurt. When she finally met his gaze, and he truly scanned his gaze over her, Matthias struggled to not react.

Somehow, even his lips barely twitched.

He supposed he'd had a good decade of practice.

Holy Hel of the Abyss.

Something had happened, indeed. Matthias couldn't help but stare at her. Her amber eyes were held wide, the same tawny color he remembered them, and yet they gleamed like the realm's brightest stars against the creamier pallor of her pearly skin. As if overnight, her cheekbones had sharpened, her nose elongated to better balance out her distinct features. Her hair shone like a sheet of bronze as she tucked it wonderingly behind her ear.

Her ear!

The tip of it now ended in a slight point, like a child's drawing of an upside-down heart.

Matthias swallowed, hands clasped behind his back.

"I know," Abel began in that new, quiet way of hers. It sounded like a song, one that Matthias remembered with a pang from his youth. "I'm...stunning." With a single, graceful motion, she wrenched the belt from her waist and threw it against the wall. "I hate it. It's revolting!"

A grunted snort escaped Matthias, but Abel already marched up his stairs, uninvited. Despite her best efforts to make a sound, her angry footsteps remained as soft as a snowflake. "This is ridiculous! And don't you dare laugh at me, Soiree! Now, where's your nearest mirror so I can smash my own reflection?"

Matthias shook his head and followed her up to his sitting area. His steps were just as light as her own against the wooden stairs. The old, rickety step at the top didn't even so much as creak. "I don't keep a mirror in my quarters."

There hadn't been a reason to since his appearance had stopped changing the moment Astrid and Sebastian had released Davina's Monverta.

"A glass, then. Perhaps a polished shield?"