But some most certainly were.
“What she confessed to us,” Lucia said, her thoughts swirling. “It reminded me of a secret of my own.”
“What?”
“When I was a baby, I was stolen from my cradle by a witch working for King Gaius. I know my birth mother was killed, but I know nothing about my real father.” She hesitated. “If he’s still alive, I want to find him. And I want to know if I have any sisters or brothers.”
Just considering the possibilities of having her real family back gave her new life, and an oddly giddy sense of hope.
Finished with his meal, Kyan stood up from the table and offered Lucia his hand. “I will help you find your family. I promise I will.”
Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn’t stop the smile that began to stretch across her face. “Thank you.”
“It’s truly the least I can do for you, my little sorceress, after all you’ve already done for me.”
Lucia reached into her cloak, pulled out a bag of coins, and placed a silver one on the table to pay for their meal, her mind still reeling from this new and powerful discovery.
A bald man with a short black beard approached their table, smiling. “Good evening to you both.”
“Good evening,” Kyan replied.
He rested the edge of his dagger on the table. “I’m not one for formal introductions, so let me get right to the point. I’m very interested in that pretty bag of coins you were just waving about. How about you give it to me, and then all of us can leave this public house unharmed?”
Lucia regarded him with disbelief. “How dare you insult me,” she hissed, lurching up to her feet.
He laughed. “Sit down, little girl. And you too,” he said, looking fiercely at Kyan.
“Lucia,” Kyan said calmly, taking a seat again. “It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not.” In the space of a heartbeat, Lucia had grown ready to peel the skin from this loathsome thief one inch at a time for this insult.
“Oh, you’ve got some fire in you, don’t you?” The thief’s loathsome gaze slid over her open cloak as he nodded with leering approval. “I like pretty young girls with fight in them. Makes it more interesting.”
“Kyan,” Lucia snarled. “Can I kill him?”
“Not quite yet.” Kyan leaned back in his chair and pressed his palms down against the table, looking completely at ease. “See, Lucia? This is a perfect example of what I was talking about before. Mortals have so much potential, but they lust after such base, unimportant things. A few pieces of gold or silver, meaningless sex. Small symbols of power or momentary pleasure. Immortals aren’t any better. It disgusts me.” He looked up at the thief and shook his head. “If you’d only ask for help, we’d give it to you. Are you hungry? Let us buy a meal. I do recommend the barley soup they have here.”
The thief eyed him. “As if you’d actually help a stranger.”
Kyan nodded. “If every mortal looked at others as their friends, not as their enemies, the world would be a much better place, wouldn’t it?”
Lucia regarded Kyan with total bemusement. He sounded like the Limerian priest who used to give long sermons about the goddess Valoria and her virtues.
Trust strangers. Give of yourself. Be kind.
She’d once believed in such nonsense.
“That’s so incredibly kind of you, friend,” the thief said, smiling. Then he raised his dagger and stabbed it down, hard, pinning Kyan’s left hand to the table. “But I’d really prefer to get what I asked for. Give me that bag of coins now, or I’ll stick my dagger in your eye next.”
Lucia stared at Kyan with shock as the fire god calmly studied his impaled hand. “I offered to help you, and this is what you do?” he asked, dismayed.
“I didn’t ask for your help. Only asked for your gold.”
Kyan slowly pulled his hand toward himself, forcing the blade to slice between his fingers.
The thief grimaced and nearly gagged. “What the—?”
Now free from the dagger, Kyan rose to his feet, his previously peaceful expression only a memory. His eyes had shifted from amber to blue, so bright that they glowed in the dimly lit tavern.