The parting vision of a cat inflated many times her usual size flashed across her consciousness, followed by the startling sensation of claws digging into the thick flesh of her shoulders. She felt herself – or Mallos’ self – go rigid from neck to ankle. Fortunately, before she could succumb to the intense desire to grasp the cat with both hands and fling it into oblivion, they arrived in a palace garden, and Sperantia dropped to the floor.
It appeared that the feline-induced torture was not over yet, however. Croe closed the eyes of Mallos and took a deep breath, reminding herself that this must be what faeries with familiars endured on a daily basis, and that an immediate attempt to throttle the creature would be considered unusual. When she opened them again, she pointedly looked away toward the gate, her masculine jaw set like stone. It would not do to have Sperantia following her like a shadow. If she wasn’t wholly suspicious now, she would be once she saw Mallos pilfering useful oddments from his family. As intriguing as her questions were, and potentially valuable in themselves, following that rabbit hole would be a recipe for disaster.
“The less you know, the better,” she said coolly, then added, gentler, “there are some things I must attend to, alone. But it is only a matter of days. After that, our link will be restored, and you can badger me to your heart’s content.”
This could be said, about the assassin: she rarely lied outright. She would twist the facts and withhold details endlessly, but all her words were rooted in, and thus smacked of, the truth. It is easier to maintain one’s cover when a lie is saved for times of great need. Sperantia, as clever as she might find herself, did not qualify.
“Go back to the Pantheon. When this is over, you will know.” Mallos did look at his familiar, then – his eyes filled with the warnings of Croe, her call to caution...and somehow, incongruously, her promise to return him safely. The pirate had no quarrel with the Spanish god, and no reason to ruin him, after all.
If he could be ruined.
She balled her hands into fists and walked toward the garden gate, in the direction of the castle proper.
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