A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

I nodded hesitantly because it felt like all Titans would say that even if their arm had been severed from their body.

“Please, go take that trunk to the orphanage, and then go get your ‘flesh wound’ checked out.”

I watched him out of the corner of my eye until he picked up the trunk like it weighed nothing and walked out of the room. Well, he didn’t look like he’d die, so I put it out of my mind.

I walked to the bed, searching for what, I didn’t know. There was a familiar leather jerkin sitting at the bottom of the mattress, and my heart pattered as I looked at it. It was his. He was the only Titan I’d seen who wore western clothes. I ran a finger across the smooth leather.

A shiver went through me, and I again got the feeling he was standing right behind me. I closed my eyes, pushing the feeling away.

Giving the place one more look, I headed upstairs.

Standing on the docks, the wind blowing my hood, I stared at the ship before me. I picked the lantern off the hook, holding it the night air.

The T on the sail mocked me, the jerkin on the mattress disturbed me, and the air around me grew thinner the more that nostalgia tightened its noose around my throat.

There was only one solution.

One lazy toss of the lantern in my hand.

I burned it down.

I’d admit that I grew overconfident.

Besting two Titans had gone straight to my head.

I’d slept like a baby that night even though the bright light from the fiery Titan ship lit my entire room.

At the moment the glow had danced on my wall, I thought I was invincible. And all throughout the next day, even though during training I struggled with my magic. There were a few other things I could do besides compulsion and persuasion: fast-traveling and manipulating certain elements.

The former skills I could do on command, but the latter were a toss-up; especially when I was under pressure—say, seven pairs of witches’ eyes on my back.

The arson of the Titan ship had already been heralded to be the work of one ‘Girl in Black,’ and was the talk of the day. I never set out to draw attention to myself that way, but I needed something to occupy my time, to keep my mind off the things I couldn’t control.

Each time I couldn’t fast-travel or manipulate a tiny flame, frustration shot through me. But there was also something else in the back of my head—that I wasn’t far off from a normal girl, a normal life, if I couldn’t do it. But what a lie I was living.

The ache in my head, the soft swaying of a ship, and my arms falling asleep chained behind me told me I wasn’t as invincible as I believed.

It had all started with a tasteless tight dress with a slit up the thigh, dark charcoaled eyes, and a lazy expression.

A whore I did make.

It was an act I often played to fool slavers into letting their guard down, and something I should have seen caution in before, but I wasn’t exactly wizened in this game yet. And one lesson I’d learned that night was: trust your gut, always.

That night, I threw caution to the wind.

He’d look like any normal man: blond shoulder-length hair, slightly weathered face from the ocean wind, deeply tanned skin. But I knew he was anything but, when I saw him corral some goods off his ship the other day.

Six girls in a row.

I wasn’t a mind reader, I was a little high on winning, and when he called me a familiar name, my thoughts got convoluted in the past.

“Bad day, angel?” the captain had said to me as I leaned against the tavern wall; ironically enough, right beside a poster of one Titan prince.

I’d glanced lazily at Weston’s likeness, a cold gaze looking back at me.

Angel.

“There’s a reason two men have called you an angel.”