his nostrils flare beneath the shadow of his hood.
The man walked around the group, inspecting them all. Each of them stood deathly still in the thick tension. Kiora wanted to trust what her instincts were telling her, that his thread was not as evil as it seemed.
Emane, she called with her thoughts, I need to see your amulet. Can you pull it out without him noticing?
Emane waited until the stranger’s attention was focused on Drustan before swiftly pulling the amulet from underneath his shirt. It glowed amber.
Kiora relaxed. Amber meant friend. The way the stranger’s thread felt on the surface, the amulet should have been glowing red. But it wasn’t. Having the confirmation she needed, Kiora thought to Emane: He is a friend. A friend they were desperately in need of.
Some friend, Emane thought back.
The hooded figure said, “No need to disguise yourself as a Tavean, Shifter. Your thread gives you away.” Drustan did not respond but looked forward with tight lips.
The stranger moved back to Emane. “And what are you?” he asked, circling Emane. “I thought you had a small amount of magic, but upon closer inspection,” his hand whipped out, gripping Emane’s arm over the top of his armband, “it appears you have no magic at all.” Crossing his arms the man said, “I must admit I am intrigued. I have never met a Witow before.” Turning to Kiora he asked, “Can it speak? Besides your name, I mean?”
Kiora cringed.
“Can it speak?” Emane exploded. “Who do you think you are?”
“It can speak,” the man said, sounding amused. Kiora could almost see the smirk through the hood’s shadow. “I have only heard rumors of Witows, but they are said to be lacking intelligence.”
“How dare you,” Emane seethed, his hands balled into fists at his side.
The amusement quickly fled from the man’s voice. “How dare you. All of you!” he added, gesturing to the group. “Marching through this territory with no regard for the rest of us.”
Kiora stepped in to diffuse the situation. “What have we done?”
The faceless man turned his attention to her. “And who are you?”
“My name is Kiora.”
“I do not need to know your name,” he said shortly. “What are you?”
She wasn’t sure what answer he wanted, but she couldn’t give him any. Not that she was human, and not that she was the Solus.
He stood as if contemplating his next move. He finally reached back and pulled his hood off. He was stunning. His face was proud with harsh lines that suited him well. His brow, nose, and cheekbones were all chiseled. His eyes, of the clearest blue, were much lighter than Emane’s. His almost white hair hung down below his shoulders. His skin was so pale it looked closer to ivory. He looked ethereal, Kiora thought, like he did not belong to this world. Two pointy ears barely protruded from his fine hair. That explained Drustan’s long ears.
The man’s jaw clenched, his eyes moving to each of them in turn. “I have removed my hood. Would you please do the same?” he asked with forced politeness.
Drustan grunted his disapproval and Kiora hesitated.
“You listen to your slave?” the man asked Kiora.
“Slave?” Drustan asked.
“Shifters with threads like yours are slaves.”
Drustan stiffened and Kiora quickly intervened again. “He is not our slave.”
The man looked around at the three, clearly irritated. “We—” he paused before amending, “you are running out of time. I need to know who you are. If you will not cooperate, I will leave you to what is hunting you.”
The three looked nervously at each other. Kiora finally asked, “What is hunting us?”
The man with the ice blue eyes stepped closer to her, putting his face only inches from her own. “Your magic is strong. You should be able to feel them by now.”
Kiora held her ground against the urge to retreat. Closing her eyes, she reached out for threads. There. Far enough away that they were still faint, but too many to count and all evil.
Kiora’s eyes flicked open under the harsh gaze of the stranger. “Who are they?” she asked.
“The army sent after the foolish trio who walk though the Shadow’s territory without so much as a bubble,” he said, his voice low and cold.
Kiora could feel the threads stronger now. They were aligned in a horseshoe shape, moving forward. He was right—evil was spreading to flush them out.
Hoping the man wouldn’t see her fingers shaking, Kiora reached for her hood.