Lanthe didn’t like things to be killed, not even handsome Vrekeners.
As the Queen of Illusions, Sabine could make her victims see anything she chose, changing the appearance of their surroundings. She could also reach into a person’s mind, draw forth his worst nightmare, then present it to him.
Unlike Lanthe, Sabine never hesitated to use her powers. . . .
“Is that where you live?” the Vrekener asked, interrupting her thoughts. Was he following her gaze to the mountaintop?
“No! Not at all. We live far away from here. I walk leagues to get to this meadow.”
“Really?” He clearly disbelieved her, but didn’t seem angered by her lie. “Strange that I sense sorcery from that direction. Lots of it.”
Vrekeners tracked Sorceri by scent—and by power outlays. Lanthe would have to get her parents to use more caution. Or try to. They were consumed with creating ever more gold. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He let it go. “So what’s persuasion?”
She glanced down at her palms, startled to see how much sorcery she wielded. Did she really mean to hurt him? He didn’t seem as threatening anymore.
Pursing her lips, she called back her power. “I can make anyone do anything I tell them to do. It’s called persuasion, but it should be called commanding.”
Years ago, when she’d first used it, she’d crossly told Sabine to shut her mouth. For an entire week, no one had understood why Sabine hadn’t been able to open it. Her sister had almost starved.
“That sounds impressive, lamb. So you’re as powerful as you are pretty?”
Her cheeks heated. He thought she was pretty? She gazed down at her frayed dress. Though faded nearly white from repeated washing, it used to have color. Sorceri loved color. Her feet were bare because she’d outgrown her boots. She didn’t feel very pretty.
“I’m sure you get called beautiful all the time,” he said confidently.
No. She didn’t. She rarely encountered anyone besides her family. If Sabine complimented her, she’d remark on Lanthe’s ability, not her looks. And sometimes her parents didn’t seem to see her at all—
The boy started striding toward her.
“Wait, wh-what are you doing?” She tripped back until she met a tree.
“Just making certain of something.” He leaned his face in close to her hair, and then he . . . he scented her! When he drew back, he wore a cocky grin, as if he’d just won a prize or discovered a new realm.
For some reason, that grin made her feel as if she’d run all the way up the mountain. Her heart pounded, and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.
“You smell like sky. And home.” He said this as if it was significant—a weighty and undeniable truth.
“What does that mean?” Gods, this boy confused her.
“To me, you smell like no one else in the world ever has, or ever will.” His gray irises glowed silver with emotion. A breeze ruffled his sandy brown hair. “It means you and I are going to be best friends. When we grow up, we’ll be . . . more.”
She focused on the words best friends, and ached with yearning. She’d always wanted a friend! She loved Sabine, but her sister was twelve and usually had grown-up stuff on her mind, like how to get warm clothing for the coming winter, or enough food to feed four.
Lanthe supposed someone had to be concerned with those things—since their parents were always preoccupied. When Lanthe had been a baby, she’d called for Ai-bee over their own mother.
But Lanthe could never be best friends with a Vrekener, despite how intriguing she found him. “You should go, Thronos Talos,” she said, just as her stomach growled, embarrassing her and deepening his amusement.
“You might be a great and terrible sorceress, but you can’t eat sorcery, can you?” He spread those spellbinding wings. “Will you stay here if I go find food for you?”
“Why would you do that?”
His shoulders went back, his silvery eyes alight—as if with pride. “That’s my job now, lamb.”
She sighed. “I don’t understand. We’re enemies. We’re not supposed to be like”—she waved from herself to him—“this.”
He winked at her. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”