Heir of the Gods

Ch. 35: Things Unexpected

"How do you know him?" Corax snarled again, the chair creaking under their combined weight as he leaned farther forward.

Cassia swallowed, forcing herself not to shy away from his closeness. Or his intensity. The image of a knife blade through her own hand flashed in her mind. "How do you?" she managed to croak.

Corax stilled and while Cassia couldn't see his eyes, she could certainly feel the heat of his gaze beneath that damned hood. A sharp laugh from him made her jump, and he straightened up.

He stood in front of her for a second longer, mouth twisted into a thoughtful frown. Then he said, "You seem to misunderstand how this works, kitten. You came here looking for Viloria. Which means you need to start answering questions, not asking them."

"I'll answer Viloria's questions," she replied with a haughty curl of her lip. "I don't have to answer yours."

Again that sharp laugh. "My questions will be the same as his."

With that, he moved toward a small fireplace set in the back of the room, his hand going up to his throat to undo the clasp there. Cassia took the opportunity to glance at her surroundings.

A small window faced west—not big enough to get through—which left the door behind her as the only exit. Her chair was in front of a large desk which held an oil lamp and a few scattered papers, and in the southeast corner of the room a table surrounded by three mismatched chairs stood. A poker by the fire snagged her attention, but there were no other weapons besides Corax's own that she could see.

The swish of cloth returned her gaze to Corax as he finally removed the hood and cloak. Cassia gasped sharply, then covered her mouth when his shoulders tightened at the sound.

Her mind scrambled, now trying to make sense of the confrontation downstairs. Part of it simply didn't believe what she was seeing. 

His left arm was missing. There was nothing but a stump three inches below his shoulder. 

Cassia had to force her eyes away from what remained of the limb, dragging them up to his face as he turned toward her. A ragged scar ran down the left side of his face, from just above his eye to his jawline.

Before she could so much as open her mouth, Corax was across the room and once more towering over her. A knife appeared in his hand and she grew dead still as the blade kissed her throat. It was startling how quickly he moved. 

Frightening.

Rage suddenly pierced her heart. She was thoroughly sick of being afraid. So she sneered and glanced pointedly at what was left of his arm. "I suppose I see what Servius was talking about."

She regretted the words as soon as she said them.

Corax snarled, then smiled, the expression little more than a baring of teeth. "I suppose I could always take you back to him if you'd prefer a whole rat to half a man." 

He had a point, much to her chagrin. Cassia huffed a breath and muttered, "No. I would not prefer that."

His eyes bore into hers, an intense blue-green color—like copper that has been left too long to the elements. He didn't say anything for a long time. The blade forced Cassia to keep her head tilted back and made her breath shallow.

She swallowed and could feel the sharp edge press a little deeper into her skin.

"If you're smart," Corax growled, "you'll answer my question. You caused a lot of trouble for me this afternoon, kitten. Those men do a lot of good business around here. The least you can do is explain why a pretty little thing like you would come to such a nasty place as this."