Teiran gets the feeling that something about him should be unsettling her and she wonders, is this why all the equines on the street look at her strangely? Why they don’t smile and say hello as they pass. Why their eyes are filled with the few things the soldier has truly come to recognize. Suspicion, unease.
Something about him is not quite right, but there are many things about Teiran that are not quite right either. Every day less and less of her feels right. Every day, less and less of her feels like something she is supposed to be. More of it cracks open, more of it dissipates on the wind like sand.
“Someone who is gone,” Teiran says, with eyes like emptiness and a voice like flat metal. Eyes, it’s his eyes that refuse to leave her. His eyes that she sees, everywhere she goes. She can’t say whether Viceroy had specifically had them made for her—she was not his pet project, not in the same was as Seraphina—but she had gotten them from her time in his army. She had learned to throw them, learned the double’s magic.
They had made her into a predator, a snake, and then given her something that could bite. They matched her eyes. Whoever or wherever they had come from, they had clearly been for her and her alone. “Where do you come from?” Teiran asks, because there is nothing else she wants to say. Because, as similar as they are cut, she does not recognize him or his collar.
"Speaking."
Something about him is not quite right, but there are many things about Teiran that are not quite right either. Every day less and less of her feels right. Every day, less and less of her feels like something she is supposed to be. More of it cracks open, more of it dissipates on the wind like sand.
“Someone who is gone,” Teiran says, with eyes like emptiness and a voice like flat metal. Eyes, it’s his eyes that refuse to leave her. His eyes that she sees, everywhere she goes. She can’t say whether Viceroy had specifically had them made for her—she was not his pet project, not in the same was as Seraphina—but she had gotten them from her time in his army. She had learned to throw them, learned the double’s magic.
They had made her into a predator, a snake, and then given her something that could bite. They matched her eyes. Whoever or wherever they had come from, they had clearly been for her and her alone. “Where do you come from?” Teiran asks, because there is nothing else she wants to say. Because, as similar as they are cut, she does not recognize him or his collar.
