Black Ice ✓ | Deathsworn #1

Chapter 7 ∞ Tested

While we had been the center of attention previously, having almost been crushed by an incoming ball of fire from a raging beast, we quickly faded into the crowd. My mother firmly tugged on my arm and kept me close to her side. Eyes trailed after us as we went, but they all soon were diverted elsewhere more interesting—namely the guy named Leiran and the flying dragons.

Huh. Sounds like a fantasy book title. Then again, I would think I was in a book if I didn't know better. If I was, what would it be named? Unfortunate Soul: Gets Reincarnated but Can't Do It Right? There were still many things I hadn't figured out; like my purpose in this world and what the hell happened for Amber to do the things he did.

While I mused, a man came forward clad in a blue longcoat. He stopped before us, holding out a hand as though to welcome my mother warmly. He had the classic blond hair and blue eyes and was quite short for a man. Despite the baggy silhouette of his clothes that perhaps attempted to broaden his profile, the hollow flare of the fabric gave hints of his thin and willowy figure.

"Hellen!" he greeted.

"Laksa," my mother greeted back.

"It's a good thing you're alright. Did you get caught up in that trouble?"

"We're fine," she told him. "Meet my daughter."

After a brief exchange, Laksa looked down to me and knelt so that he was at my eye level.

"What a beautiful child," he said. "Your mother did not lie to me when she said you were exquisite." His vibrant and kind smile made it all seem like a compliment—if it was any other person, they would just sound like a creep.

"Thanks, you're pretty too," I told him.

His face burned hot. Laksa reached up to comb through his blond locks, laughing like a flustered goose. "She wrote to me and said it more than a couple of times, but I still can't figure out how to say it right—how is it? Ehvahyuuhn?"

I nodded.

"Hm." He put on a thoughtful face. "In a language of the West, in Vertvalden, your name should mean—"

"Maiden of the river," I said, finishing for him. Uttering it, knowing it since birth, I had always known what my name meant.

A smile quirked up his lips. "That's right." He stood up straight. "Your mother told me you had quite the knack for languages. Your mistresses know at least two or three as entertainers of Oblivion, but you..." he ended his sentence, not with a period, but a chuckle.

I looked up, giving my adoptive mother a questioning glance. What exactly did he mean by 'but you...'? My mistresses had not spoken a different tongue...or wait, maybe they did? I stopped caring long ago because I suddenly understood everything they were saying after Amber did that thing in the alleyway—surely, it couldn't be the case right? Did that somehow grant me the ability to understand every language that came my way?

Holy crap.

"No need to look so bothered. It's not something to be scared about," he said, seeing my face.

But that wasn't the reason why I was frowning.

I kept in mind to pay attention to the language they were using to talk to me with next time.

"Come this way," Laksa said as he stood. He motioned for me and my mother to follow him, leading us around the crowd and towards a back entrance.

"Thank you so much for this, Laksa." Hellenia sighed softly.

"Anything for you and the mistresses," he said. "And, of course, dear little Evyionne."

There was nothing insincere about the way he moved. He exuded a calm yet enthusiastic grace that spoke no ill-intention. Even my mother seemed relaxed, as though she let this tide in the form of this man guide us. They must trust him so.