Like fire we burn

Chapter sixteen

Tyrin sprawled on his bed, rubbing at his aching temples. An image of her crying flashed behind his eyes. If he didn't know better, he'd say she'd already forgotten the nightmare, but he'd felt the tremors in her hands, the sting of bile in her throat, so strong he thought they were his own reactions. He bet his wings she was hurling in the room next door, the sound of water running to keep him from hearing.       

The bathroom door opened softly and Shadow glided into her half of the room without a sound or glance in his direction. Her face had been wiped clean of blood and any remnants of her teasing smile. She'd braided her long hair and shaken her wings free of dust and debris. She looked so very small right then, padding around in a space she was unfamiliar with and obviously didn't belong.               

Tyrin shook himself as he heard her shake the blankets on the other side and the bed creak. Hours passed, and still he lay awake, running through events of the day. All he came up with was questions. Eventually, he couldn't take it anymore. He rolled out of bed and padded to the curtain separating them. He pressed his fingers to the material, debating, before moving it aside. She'd curled into a ball, dark wings cocooning her in impenetrable black.                                    

"Shadow?"                                            

"What?" She groaned, voice husky from sleep.                           

"Who was he?"                                       

She unfurled her wings and glared at him. Red lined her cheeks from the mattress. She pushed herself into a sitting position and rubbed her eyes. "Many people want to kill me, Bloodwolf. He was sending a message. And getting revenge."                               

She hadn't answered him, but was too tired to push. "What message? What did you do to make him risk his life coming after you here?"                                       

"So many questions from someone who threatened to kick me out if he didn't get enough sleep." She smiled slightly as he growled. "I haven't been forgiven yet. A knife for a knife. Fair is fair, after all." Shadow huffed a laugh and yawned. The action caused him to do the same. Her face was uncharacteristically open at this hour, and her eyes looked red and irritated – like she'd been crying again.   

"Forgiven for what?" She was feeding him riddles and he wasn't in the mood to decipher them. If she wanted to take the long way and avoid a straight answer, he was going to ask questions until she couldn't.                                            

"I ran away. Among other things."                                   

"You ran away from the male?" He wasn't buying it. This wasn't some jilted boyfriend – firstly because he highly doubted Shadow dabbled in any relationship, and secondly because he had to have a damn good reason for pulling a stunt like that.                               

She looked amused at the thought, but it wasn't deep – just a fleeting flicker before it drained back to bone-weariness. She looked too old for the years she'd graced these Realms. "No, I ran from Alaric Pryd. Samael was just the messenger tonight."                                

There was no explosion of surprise or rage in his chest, but an empty, dull silence. Samael always gravitated to the winning side – the side that offered him the most reward for his efforts. It was a little push to see his brother act so defiantly against his birth Realm, but not a shock worthy of much reaction. They'd cut most ties to each other long ago.                               

"You told me Pryd was nothing to you, so I'll ask one last time," He growled. "Who is Alaric Pryd to you?"                                               

Shadow's eyes went to the wall, studying the way the moonlight danced across it. She was very still. "He's my godfather. A long time ago, he was apparently a good man, and one of my parent's most trusted friends. Time can change a lot of things."                               

Tyrin was utterly silent once the axe had fallen. Shadow cocked her head and regarded him with measuring eyes. Godfather meant familial ties to the Pryd's fortune – not through blood – but at least through title. She just became more dangerous, and he further tangled in her web.