Lady Death

THIRTEEN

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Kat rubbed her thumb over the surface of the polished black mask in her hand. The only openings in the large oval obsidian stone were two eye holes. No other markings or designs covered its glassy surface. It was so polished that she could see her own dirt-smeared face reflected on it.

Cassius had explained that while he wore the mask, he had been instructed to always keep it polished so that their enemies would see their own reflection in the mask. It was a form of mental warfare.

She still wore the black uniform of the royal guard. Kat had been unwilling to try and remove it while her shoulder was still injured. Carefully, she took a seat on a log before a crackling fire. No smoke billowed up from the flames, and no logs fueled them. It was fire magic. Someone in the camp had come forward offering their magic flames to keep the camp warm.

It reminded her of the Ameronian Palace in Nava. So many smokeless flames lit the palace. No fuel kept them burning. It was an ancient and permanent magic that powered each of those tiny flames. That same magic warmed the baths and boiled water for cooking in the Summer Kingdom's Palace. Magic that had been rumored to be infused into the walls of the Palace by King Oberon himself.

Kat adjusted the strip of cloth that held her injured arm to her body as she surveyed the makeshift camp around her. It had taken so little time to erect it. Tents and fires littered the small clearing as children ran through, weaving between people as they worked.

Kat could not help but smile at the children's constant laughter and giggling as they played. Her heart ached a bit as she wondered just how long it had been since those children had laughed, or been able to play. The thought of the unspeakable horrors that happened in that prison made Kat want to crawl out of her own skin. Yet, watching the youngest of their kind play with such joy on their faces, lessened the pain in her heart. Tears lined her eyes as she looked at all the people in the camp. The horrors they had seen and felt did not darken their faces. So, Kat would not let the knowledge of what happened to them darken her own face.

From the corner of Kat's eye, she saw a blur of motion. Her instincts kicking in before she even had time to process what was happening. Kat whirled to face the threat her fae instincts had sensed. Her arm spasmed at the abrupt motion. Pain shot through her shoulder but she ignored it, readying to defend herself and those around her. A soft hissing laugh came from beside her as Valen took a seat on the log next to her.

Kat's hand braced the side of her arm, in an attempt to ease the pain from her wound. "That hurt," she grumbled, more to herself than to the witch.

"You should be more careful," Valen gave a faint smile of amusement that had Kat glaring at her.

She suppressed the snarl in her throat. Kat was not surprised that Valen was unbothered by her glare. The witch was far older and far more powerful than Kat would ever be.

The witch smoothed the corner of her cloak on her leg. The delicate way she crossed her legs was at complete odds with the feeling of danger and power that radiated from Valen's entire being.

Kat had never been close with Valen. The witch did not seem to enjoy anyone's company. But she knew Valen would kill for her, as she would kill for Valen. If not for Valen's healing abilities, she knew she would be in far more pain than she currently was.

The witch was content to sit in silence beside Kat as they watched the camp spring to life. Kat had little doubt that Valen's glamour was at work, hiding the camp from sight and sound. Valen's eyes had that eerie glow to them, that they always had when she used her magic.