Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55964 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I look up at him, trying to hide my frown. I’ve been lost in thought all afternoon, wondering if I’ve angered Fate—a god himself—and now I’m going to suffer the consequences. I’ve polished and dusted my new mirror, hanging it back on the magical spot Neska had set it at and then stared at the shiny surface, wondering if kissing a god was so wrong.
And now Ossev is here. “What are you talking about?”
“Neska. You. Kisses. He liked it. He doesn’t know how to say he liked it, but I can feel it through our connection. He’s been thinking about your mouth all day instead of the mortals he’s supposed to be watching.”
Oh. That pleases me more than it probably should. I move over to my bed, sitting on the edge and adjusting my skirts. There is only one chair in my room and I figure I should leave that for Ossev. “Is that going to cause problems for Neska? If he’s not paying attention to his work?”
Ossev shrugs. He moves to sit next to me, so close that his leg touches mine. He always does. I should tell him that I need room to breathe, but it reminds me that he’s trying very hard for my sake, even if he doesn’t understand human things like personal space. So I say nothing and smile at him. “Neska gave me a mirror.”
“I saw.” He watches me closely. “You like it?”
“I do. I like the thought of being able to look at things. It’s more entertaining than staring at the walls.”
“It’s taking a piece of his power to keep it going for you. Every time you access it to view something, it will be like sending a request to him. He must like you a great deal if he made such an offer.” He says the words with a hint of wonder, as if he doesn’t quite believe it himself.
“You like me, and you’re him.” I give him a smile.
“Not quite. We are and are not the same.” With that enigmatic answer, he tilts his head. “Shall I do the same for you? Give you the ability to see anything in the past?”
I blink at the gift offering. I’m not sure if this is out of competition with himself—Neska—or if there’s a higher purpose behind it. “I wouldn’t presume to ask for such a thing. You need your power and your focus, do you not?”
“But you are my anchor. I can learn from you by what you wish to see. It will help me understand you more.” He reaches out to touch me, and then draws his hand back. “It is something that would give me pleasure, to know that I am entertaining you.”
“Well then, how can I refuse?” I take his hand in mine. It feels cold against my skin, but they all do. It’s like they don’t know how to be a functioning, living person. That they’re just pretending, like mummers on a stage. All the while, I’m acutely aware that they have all the power and I do not. “I should like it, Ossev, but I admit I don’t know what I would look at. I want to check in on Faith and Solat and the others I traveled with, but beyond that…” I spread my other hand. “I can’t think of anything to see that has happened in the past.”
“Wars? The last Anticipation? The arrival of a great hero?” he suggests.
None of those things sound appealing to me. They’re all the past, and they don’t affect me.
“What about your birth?” he prompts. “You can watch when you came into being.”
I shudder at the thought. “That’s…disturbing. No thank you.”
“Curious.” His gaze grows sly. “What about Alothan? Would you like to see what happened to him after you parted ways?”
I tense, a knot forming in my throat. Alothan was two masters ago, and the worst one. He made me work in a whorehouse for pennies and whipped me when I wasn’t obedient enough. He felt I was getting “used up” at the ripe age of twenty and sold me to another man, where I served in his house (and his bed) for four years before I met Aron of the Cleaver. The fact that Ossev has plucked that particular tidbit from my past tells me that he’s been spying on my history. He should know how I feel. “I don’t want to think about Alothan at all.”
“What if I told you he died violently?”
“Good.” My voice is flat.
“It was interesting. Are you sure you don’t want to see?” Ossev leans in, his face practically in mine as if he’s peering at my expressions.
“I do not.” I get up and cross the room to get my sewing basket. If we’re going to continue to talk of such disturbing things, I’m going to need something to occupy my hands. They always give away what I’m truly thinking, as if the anxious feelings inside me need to flutter out via my busy fingers.