Catastrophic Attraction - Eve Langlais Page 0,21
enough that Casey recoiled. Her knife found its way into her hand. “What the fuck!”
“You wanted us to go about unfettered by recognition. You’re welcome.” The voice was the same, but the features all wrong.
“You do not get to be blasé about this. What happened to your face?”
“Mind ravaging, as you so rudely called it, isn’t the only gift I have.”
“This is useful.” She didn’t ask, just reached for him, her fingers brushing flesh. She felt nothing different, except for an odd current. It made her heart race. Probably an aftereffect of his Deviant power.
Although this was beyond head-talking and moving shit around. He’d changed into someone else.
“It might help if you didn’t keep rubbing me as if you can wipe it off. I do have to maintain the guise after all.”
She removed her hand and began to walk. “Is it hard?”
“Yes.” Said through gritted teeth.
“Whose face are you wearing?”
“Not someone living if that’s what you’re asking.”
Which led to her question. “Did you kill him, the man whose face you now wear?”
“Does it matter?”
She remained silent and watched as they left the castle, just two casual strangers out for a stroll in the city. Had it just been her, she would have found a shadow and slipped into it, but she wasn’t entirely ready to let the king know all her secrets. He had revealed more than a few of his own, making her wonder just how many more still hid.
“How long has this city been here?” she asked.
“Depends on who you ask.”
She glanced at him. “Seems straightforward to me. You can tell it’s been around a while.”
“A long time since it was built, yes. But circumstances led to it being abandoned, and it remained defunct until about ten years ago when I chose it as my home.”
“Is that when you began bossing its inhabitants around and calling yourself king?” She kept her voice low, but no one paid them any mind as they walked through streets that were stained by damp patches, but tidy.
“I was alone for the first year. It wasn’t until I’d been here almost two that people began moving in. And then that number started doubling and tripling when they heard I was offering them safety.”
“The Enclave didn’t stop you?”
“If you’re talking of the leaders of the Sapphire territory, it should be noted that it now mostly consists only of the port city. They more or less abandoned the hamlets and all other locations more than a few hours away because they claimed the effort to maintain them wasn’t worth it. The swamps don’t have much that they want.”
She looked around before saying slowly, “I’d say there’s a city full of people that wouldn’t agree.”
“The marshes provide many things, and what they don’t, we trade for. So in a sense, Sapphire was right. They still get the same things as before but without exerting an effort.”
“You mean to tell me you’re a trader?” She shook her head.
“As opposed to what? What exactly do you think leading involves? It’s not just about providing an armed force to protect the citizens.”
“But still, you’re basically a glorified merchant.”
“A much safer occupation than what Haven used to indulge in.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You raided shipments meant for the domes.”
“You got a problem with it?”
He shrugged. “Not really. Your thieving from the Emerald crown took attention away from what I was doing here. Without even realizing it, you’ve been an ally in my fight.”
“We did it to survive.”
“Amazing what we can justify when using that word.” He stopped abruptly outside a building painted in numerous bright clashing colors. “We’re here.”
She eyed the strange building. Only one old man guarded the door with a spear that held him upright.
“Business?” the old codger said in a raspy voice.
“You don’t need to know our business,” Roark replied, and despite Casey not seeing the king do anything untoward, the guard stood aside.
The moment they stepped inside she could hear young voices reciting in cadence. “A is for apocalypse, may it never come again. B is for the bounty that the marshes give. C is—”
She tuned out to ask Roark, “What is this place?”
“A school,” he said, leading her farther inside where she could see the doorways, closed and yet she could peek inside via the windows. See the rows of chairs behind long tables with children seated, writing on paper while speaking aloud. Doing their alphabet.
In Haven they did their best to teach, but this was organized, intentional education. It could mean only one thing.