The following is an original work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book/story are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. The following is intended for mature audiences only.
Chapter 15
Faster than his stiff body appreciated, followed. Throwing the door open with enough force to hear the wood creak as it hit the stone wall. Halfway down the hall, Zahrra strolled past the first guard. Finneck watched as the guard diligently kept his eyes forward.
Interesting.
Judging by his reaction, the girl, after that little tantrum girl seemed to fit more appropriate,
Stomping down the hall was just some random person. Though Zahrra looked to have aged only a few years, physically, by Human standards, it had been over five decades since her full face had openly been seen.
Approaching his guard, Captain Salvotiis stared down at him. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember the man’s name through the haze of anger. Originally only Dreche were permitted to guard the halls during their training sessions. As the elite soldiers were away from Eitiris for the moment, Finneck had had his First Officer choose the two guards for today’s duty based on their ability to keep their mouths shut or disappear without question.
At the moment, too many curses were coursing through his head to focus on something as trite as the man’s name.
“Do you know who that was that just walked past you, Soldier?” Salvotiis demanded.
“No, sir. Never seen her before.” Voice shaking and body stiff. Finneck made a mental note that he would have to reevaluate interrogation training once the Dreche returned. Either that or question his First Officer’s decision-making skills.
“Never seen her before,” repeated Finneck. “How old are you, son?”
“Captain?”
“What is your age? How many years have passed since your birth? I didn’t think it was an exceptionally difficult question.”
“Eighty-seven, sir. I’ve been with the guard since I was sixteen. Recruited for my tracking ability,” he said with slightly more confidence and a lot less trembling.
A memory of using this man’s skills to track a small group of Fae came to the forefront of Finneck’s mind. Small details about the two weeks spent in Orsus played vividly.
Still no hint of this man’s name or his credibility. If the small trickle of power Finneck allowed to escape during his frenzied anger was to be believed, the soldier was telling the truth at least. He had no clue he just witnessed a maskless princess cross his path. Something that could condemn him to death.
Nodding, Finneck walked back into the training room. Trying to tuck his magic away before obliterating the door.
Eighty-six to the princess’ seventy.
Possible that he hadn’t attended the Masking Ceremony or he hadn’t seen her face before then.
Too many thoughts swam through his head as he attempted to shut the training room door gently even as it refused to close properly since one hinge was no longer attached to the wall. Maybe he should just put it out of his misery. Absently projecting his thoughts onto the inanimate object.
Clenching his jaw tight and relaxing his hold on the throbbing well at his center, Finneck felt the wood disintegrate under his touch.
He fucking hated magic.
