What a laugh.
Hopefully, despite the unexpected delay in his travels, the king would welcome him back into the fold with open arms. He’d be back to cutting throats and burning villages by the following week.
Felix was passing through a small village nestled in a forest when he heard someone call out to him.
“Young man! Young man! Please, I need your help!”
Ignore her, Felix told himself. You don’t help people, you kill them. Even helpless old ladies if they’re foolish enough to get in your way.
“Young man!” The old woman scurried up to him and grabbed hold of his shirt sleeve. “Goodness, child, didn’t you hear me? Where are you off to in such a hurry?”
He pocketed the air Kindred. “First of all, lady, I am not a child. And, secondly, where I’m going is none of your concern.”
She put her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “Well, never mind then. All I know is I need help, and you’re tall and you look strong enough.”
“Strong enough for what?”
She pointed at a nearby tree. “Up there!”
Felix frowned and peered up into the thick tree, heavy with leaves. Perched precariously on a branch high above their heads was a small gray-and-white kitten.
“Somehow my darling little kitty got herself up there,” the old woman explained, wringing her hands, “and now she can’t get back down. She’s so very frightened, can’t you see? And so am I. She’s going to fall or get snatched up by a hawk!”
“You really do have to be watchful for hawks,” he said, then snorted. The woman stared at him blankly. “Watchful. Hawks. Get it?”
She pointed again, more frantically this time. “You must climb up the tree and save my kitty before it’s too late!” The kitten let out a tiny but plaintive mew, as if to emphasize the dilemma.
It was rather unfortunate for this woman that Felix had happened along in her time of need. Had he been Jonas Agallon, he’d likely have already rescued the cat, and would now be busy milking a goat for its dinner.
Even just that brief thought of the failed rebel leader had managed to darken Felix’s mood.
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.
“Your weakness disgusts me,” he said. “I need to cleanse it from this world.”
The thief took a step backward, raising his hands in surrender. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”
“Really? You could have fooled me,” Lucia said, her skin still crawling from the lecherous way the man had looked at her. “Kill this pathetic mortal, Kyan, or I’ll do it myself.”
She felt the heat before she saw the fire. A narrow whip of flames snaked toward the man, licking his boot and slowly winding up his ankle, calf, and thigh like a vine of fire. Every patron in the tavern took notice as chairs skidded against the wooden floor and men and women collectively rose to their feet with alarm.