He was supposed to be an angel but they took him from that light and turned him into something hungry, something that forgets what his hands are for when they aren’t shaking.
P
erhaps I notice subtle differences in her demeanor; but truly, if she asked, I would say I hadn’t. I suppose not. The fire disappears just as quickly. Sorceress is more like it, she admits. It is clear at that point, despite her smile, there is something more beneath the surface. I am still surprised when she attempts to stand and does not succeed, collapsing back into her chair. I must confess, I am impressed by her sustained poise. I offer a polite, albeit contrite, smile. “A shame, Lucinda.” Yet, I rise and offer her my shoulder. It unsettles me—and perhaps awakens me—to have a water horse so close to my throat. Yet, the civility of Lucinda is of a sort I have not yet encountered in her kind. I have come to recognize the water horses of Novus are different than those of my homeland, and worth, perhaps, more study.
I guide us through the dancing and the busier portions of the party, until we are out into the open air. The night is cool, and fragrant. “I was so looking forward to the chaos of tonight. Perhaps another time, then?”
Now, I smile. And as always, the smile hardly belongs on the face of a man, but instead, a wolf.
