Chapter 4 #3
Displeasure rolled off Florin like a low thunderclap, and I steeled my spine.
He lumbered a step closer, one taloned hand bracing on the doorjamb.
The curved tips clicked a slow, irritated rhythm against the wood.
Glaring downward, the eyes fixed on mine glowed bright like burning coals.
His voice was soft yet threatening. “You do not bow to a Horned God?”
Before I had the chance to tilt my chin and tell him I bowed to none, Graysen spoke on my behalf. He gestured to me, “Nelle Wychthorn from the Great House,” and then splayed his hand across his chest, dipping his upper body in a show of respect once more. “And I am Graysen Crowther.”
Delight curved Florin’s mouth into a wide smile as if his suspicion of Graysen’s identity had been confirmed. “Curious,” he murmured thoughtfully, sliding his piercing gaze from Graysen to me. “A princess from Great House. And a fallen prince.”
My startled glance darted to Graysen’s profile, tracing the arrogant line of his stupidly beautiful features. The imperious way he always held himself. I supposed that description was appropriate, given that the Crowthers once reigned over the Great House.
My fallen prince stashed away his blade in a whirl of indiscernible movement. “I believe you knew my mother.”
Florin’s mouth slashed into a vicious grin. “Sticky Fingers,” his deep voice rumbled. “It’s been a long time since we last met.”
My eyebrows shot upward. Sticky Fingers?
Graysen rubbed the back of his neck, ruffling the wavy locks, looking decidedly sheepish. “I took to thieving at an early age,” he murmured to me by way of an answer.
Florin pushed off the doorframe and retreated several steps. “So your memory has returned,” he surmised.
“Parts of it, not all,” Graysen replied.
Florin hummed, deep in thought. When the Horned God next spoke, he stared right at me. It was almost a purr. Almost a challenge. “Enter if you can.”
Graysen and I shared a look, a glancing touch of our hands in reassurance.
He strode in first.
And I followed next.
For a heartbeat, I thought I saw a flash of something spearing through Florin’s eyes, astonishment, curiosity, as he watched me stride into his domain. At what? That I could enter his lair?
My bewilderment at his reaction was torn away when my gaze fell upon the wooden sign hanging inside his lair, its silver lettering deeply engraved into the wood, proclaiming: PURVEYOR of RARITIES.
And what a magnificent lair it was.
A shimmer of iridescent aether hung in the air, catching the light like drifting motes.
Rugs and silks lined the floor and walls, rich as opulent oil paint.
Candelabras burned throughout, fat beeswax candles casting honeyed warmth into every corner.
And the store itself reminded me of the gift shops I’d seen online, curiosity after curiosity drawing one deeper through a maze of tables and shelves, each surface cluttered with wonders.
But here, everything was built to Florin’s scale.
The oversized shelves and tall tables towering all around me made me feel like a child wandering through a giant’s trove.
I stopped beneath an enormous stone statue of Brangwene, his leathery wings spread wide and curving upward as if he were dropping from the sky.
Aggression carved itself into every line of the warlord’s severe expression, his fist locked around a warhammer, his figure frozen in a moment of terrible power.
Graysen came to a halt nearby and fished from his canvas bag the burlap sack and brown paper bag filled with croissants.
“If I remember right, my mother claimed these were your favorites.” He gave the Horned God a peek inside the sack, and Florin’s eyes lit up.
He licked his lips. “Ah, dead opossum. Delicious.”
This is why Graysen had scraped roadkill off the asphalt?
A squashed opossum and a croissant? My mouth twisted with revulsion.
Florin noticed. The sleeveless cloak of deep emerald feathers shivered as he frowned, lumbering closer. His shadow was a terrifying shroud folding over me as he leaned down, his grainy voice rumbling, “Did you think I’d be eating people, Miss Wychthorn?”
I gulped, twining my hands together. “Well, it’s what Horned Gods rather like doing, isn’t it?”
He made a huffing sound of amusement as he straightened. “We’re not all like those you’ve met in the collective. Some of my brethren live outside of it too. And quite a few of us don’t have a taste for human flesh.”
“Oh…” was all I could summon as a reply. Though the Horned Gods were cloaked in mystery, it came as a surprise to learn that.
Graysen stashed the roadkill and croissants back into the canvas bag before asking Florin, “May I speak with you in private?”
This was such a different side to him. It was fascinating. He was so polite and formal with the Horned God.
“I’m sure you have plenty of questions you want answers to,” Florin replied, gesturing with a sweep of his taloned hand toward what appeared to be an office near the back of his store. He ambled toward it, candlelight glancing off his huge, gnarled ram horns.
Graysen strode over to where I stood. He tucked a wild lock of hair behind my ear, and his hand drifted lightly down my neck to linger at the base of my throat.
The barest touch left a trail of gauzy heat to bleed through my skin.
He ducked his head, dark waves of hair slid forward.
The breadth of his body provided us with some small privacy.
He spoke to me quietly. “I’m not sure how long I’ll be. This could take a while.”
I hitched a shoulder, feigning casualness. “That’s okay. I’ll wait out here for you.”
“Don’t go getting into trouble,” he warned with a serious glint in his eyes, a tap of his finger on my nose.
“I’ll try not to,” I grinned wickedly back.
His mouth curved into a broad, beaming smile, and he pulled me in for a quick, sweet kiss that had my toes curling in my annoying shoes.
A second later, he left me there and sauntered after Florin while I lazily wandered through Florin’s shop as if already bored.
I gave them one full minute before I covertly glanced over my shoulder to check the office.
Graysen stood with his back to me, leaning a shoulder against the door frame, blocking my view of the Horned God.
Urgency strummed in my blood, pounding my heart into a frantic beat.
I had no idea how long Graysen would take up the Horned God’s time.
I had to find the mites now.