The Heirs of Death

17.1 Singed Heart

"You surely are easing into you role," he whispered, leaning before he plucked a few bit of green-a leaf or some grass-from my hair before he tossed it aside.

"At least," I countered, "I am taking my mission seriously." It took me more strength than I'd like to admit in trying to maintain a demeanor as I crossed my arms, noting well that way in which he stared at me-the same way since we left the forest as though he couldn't quite get used to the face staring back at him.

He didn't reply, instead rubbed his hair and beard harder, the latter thin since he'd shaved yesterday. How he didn't cut himself with that piece of metal we'd also taken from that house doing so, I wasn't sure I was willing to ask.

"Ever went to sleep last night?"

He only shook his head, stretching his arms behind him as he stared at the stream in front of us that grew wider the more it went south. I dropped my elbows on my thighs and rested my head in my hands, staring at the Shadow as I added, "I still want a rune like the one you have."

He turned back to me, sharp canines glinting as he smiled, something in it wicked ever since Deres and Énor charmed him. "Whenever you feel like spending three days in a row knocked out, I'll be there for you."

I grunted; that would have to wait until we got back to my castle. That, if we got out of Eziara in one piece. And sane. For the next few minutes, we were in a comfortable silence, the gentle rustling of water and singing birds filling the woods, especially the remote, dangerous piece of it that could lead a man in circles if he didn't know where to go.

"Now that I remember,'' I started, straightening before I leaned my head on Leon's shoulder. "You still owe me anything I want."

He eyed my smirk with both mischief and sharpness, perhaps trying to see just how this was going to end. "I do, just like Luthian owes you a debt to fulfill until his last breath." He tilted his head slightly, warm breath brushing my forehead, tingling my skin. "I wonder if you enjoy having men bound to you by oaths at your personal disposal."

I shrugged slightly. "You never know when it comes in hand." Leon-Aedis-laughed, the sound cold and feral and nothing like what I was used to. Even his voice was different, rougher and like a hiss getting out of his throat. "I was wondering about what lie we should come out for this." He ran a finger down the fake scar and inked tattoos on it, his hand even more scarred and bruised than his chest.

"So was I.'' I placed one hand on his temple just where the scar was and whispered, "And since Sorcha decided to have us mates, we may as well use that in something."

I let the image in my mind slip to his, my spirit, thankfully, unharmed by the changes. The picture was dark, returning a few years back in the dungeons. He was kicked in our cell by a guard I made sure to snarl at before I scooped him in my arms, head falling above my heart. In that lie I was sliding down his thoughts, I brushed the blood and dirt away and inked it for him with my own blood, the darkness and cold wrapping us explaining why the markings looked like they were drawn by a shaking hand. Then, the Elayda I was playing lowered her head, mouth almost brushing Aedis's, hands running just above his beating heart, fingers sticky with black blood.

The image turned black after that.

"This image will be linked to the scar. If anyone tries to get into your mind to search for these tattoos, they'll be met with this lie."

His voice was a murmur laced with amusement as he queried, "And what about that darkness?"

"It will make them believe your mind is guarded and that there is no going deeper through that memory."

"That's not what I meant."

I hit him in the chest with quite good strength. I'd known what he was aiming for from the very first time, hinting at what happened after it all went dark. He laughed again and kissed my forehead, something he'd been doing quite much the past few days. Each time, I melted more. And hated myself for it.