My gaze lifts to her eyes, and all the breath flees my lungs.
They’re white.
Unseeing.
She looks my way, and I feel the opposite of unseen—shafted through with the sense that she sees far too much.
“Kholu,” she whispers, smiling before raising both hands skyward. “Kholu haf comá. Haf de neil da nu … Tookah te!”
The skull erupts with victorious yells and the pounding of fist to flesh, thumping hard like my rallying heart before the crowd becomes a bustle of motion—an energy about the space that prickles with anticipation.
“What in the Creators have you gotten me into?” I grind out to the beast at my side, who simply curls into a great mounded ball of fur, tucks its face beneath its tail, and appears to fall asleep—oscillating between its solid form and smudging at the sides.
Hmm.
Maybe if I ignore it for a bit, it’ll smudge out of existence entirely. Then I can leave.
Two hulking males push free of the bellowing crowd, the larger of the pair so massive his hand could thread around my throat and crush it with a single squeeze, his hair the color of clay and reaching down between his shoulder blades. When he turns to bow at the folk occupying the thrones, I see his back is littered with dots, the image of a serpent coiled around his muscular frame more whole than blotted in places. The smaller male has brown hair and tawny, freckle-dusted skin, bearing a faunycaw with its wings reaching up, draped over the warrior’s shoulders.
Both turn to me, dipping into an even deeper bow.
I frown, my attention drifting to the female sitting on the throne, seeking answers in her eyes. All I find is a soft, comforting smile that makes me want to growl.
I don’t want comfort. I want cold hard truths so I can work out what this Fate Herder has gotten me into and how I can remove myself from the situation the moment the creature drops its guard.
Clopping sounds come to me from behind, and I look over my shoulder, seeing a big leathery six-legged creature being led down the path between the crowd. It has no ears and three sets of beady black eyes that are clustered on either side of its long face, its jaw rocking as it chews something tucked between its molars.
My frown deepens. I think it’s a colk, but the ones I’ve seen have a thick, fluffy pelt. The creatures look so strange … naked.
It makes a snorting sound, settling between myself and the two males watching me with intrigue.
The milky-eyed female steps between me and the peaceful, masticating beast. With one swift motion, she rips a curved bronze blade from a sheath I hadn’t noticed strapped to her leg and slits the animal’s throat faster than I can track.
My lungs seize, heart hammers.
The poor animal lets out a shrill honk, its spilling blood caught in a bowl while my head goes light and airy. The beast is gently lowered to the ground, settling into a kneeling position that mimics my own. But still.
Dead.
I waver.
I’ve killed folk in the same manner. But seeing this poor, innocent creature loosen its final, gurgling breath jostles something inside me. Makes me feel sick to the stomach.
Fuck this.
I’m out.
I push to my feet and spin, stalking for the exit when the Fate Herder leaps in front of me, snarling. The crowd gasps, murmuring while I bare my teeth and growl back.
It drops its head lower, prowls closer, urging me back toward my starting point.
“I’m growing less and less fond of you,” I grind out, then shake my head and turn, storming back, toiling rage whipping at my ribs like ribbons of icy water.
This verbal barrier is growing deeper by the second. If I don’t find out what’s going on soon, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.
The male and female on the thrones frown at me, passing each other wary glances as I pick at the skin down the sides of my nail, watching the two warriors get painted in colk blood like it’s something to be proud of.
I try not to look at the dead animal. Hard when it’s right there, still bleeding out in a bowl.
A group of females converge around me like a fence, breaking off my view of the poor colk. Rows of them, until I’m hidden behind a circular wall of shapely, silk-garbed folk, most of whom have their backs turned.
Every cell in my body stiffens, my eyes darting left and right. It takes me noticing the nervous glances being passed between the few folk still facing my way for me to realize I’m snarling.
One dons a soft smile and steps forward. “Eh tah Saiza. Téth en. Aygh ne.”
“I don’t understand. Any of this.”
She lifts her hands. “My name is Saiza. It is okay. No hurt.”