Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

How he sees my hair? I flick up the ends to look them over, all mostly healthy since I give myself regular trims throughout the year. Even if I don't consider myself pretty or beautiful, I still try my very best not to look like the Orcs.

Rolling my eyes, I turn away from him, forcing my thoughts away from my vanity. It's mostly unimportant. Mostly.

"The Oasis has so many grand things," I drawl with heavy sarcasm, though it's true.

Juilliard nods his head in agreement, blowing out a large cloud of smoke in my general direction. Waving my hand in the air I try to keep the smell and toxic clouds away from my face. Marcello tucks his hand behind his back and rocks on his heels.

"So what of the gun on your hip? That doesn't look like a creation from The Oasis." I point at his waist.

"This?" He reaches for the weapon with a new spark of excitement lighting up his gaze. "I picked this up on my journey to retrieve you. Human artifact, I traded some other Elves for it."

The way Elves collect old bits and pieces of Human history is painfully annoying. They know nothing of them and they don't even like Humans, but they still find it so fascinating to hoard everything they find. I'm chalking it up to their greedy nature instead of some weird obsession with Humans. Elves like things, and working Human artifacts are rare.

"May I?" I extend a hand.

And either Marcello is far too trusting or he is infamously stupid, because he pulls it from the holster on his hip and places the old revolver in my palm. It's heavier in my hand than I seem to remember guns ever being, but I haven't touched one in years, so that isn't saying much. I stare down at it. This weapon would be considered old back when Humans still had control of the world and the Immortals were still in hiding. Now it's ancient.

I push my thumb against the cylinder, popping it out to examine it. There isn't a single bullet loaded into the gun. Which is what makes them so useless now. Even if I owned a gun, I wouldn't be able to get ammunition for it. Closing the cylinder, I frown because I know exactly why Marcello would hand it to me so easily. The worst I could do with it is clobber him over the head.

Extending my arms, I point the gun away from both men and look down it's barrel into the sight. My finger remains on the side of the gun, away from the trigger out of an old habit. If I had to wager a guess, this revolver probably has a decent kickback and an eardrum shattering sound when it fires.

"Do you... know how to use one?" Marcello tilts his head to the side.

"Yes."

Of course I do. Arron was fond of guns. Always told me they were the superior weapon and much better than the swords I'm trained to use.

"If I had ammo, I could shoot a bullet right through that thick skull of yours." I swing around and aim at his forehead, just for a little fun. Arron would hate it. He had all these rules he preached about gun safety. I never understood them, because in the years that I'd been in his care he'd never actually used a gun. Most of the collection he had left behind in his death I eventually traded off. Those guns helped me eat most of my meals while I was working to become who I am today. That did me much better than leaving the hunks of metal sitting around to rust.

"I was just curious if perhaps you could show me?" Marcello reaches out and pushes the barrel out of his face.

"No," I say quickly. Then just for the show of it, I flip the gun so that it rotates once in the air and I catch the barrel in my hand, offering the grip to him.

"That's no fun." He frowns, but takes the weapon back. His thumb traces the cylinder where my fingers just touched. Sending Juilliard a quick look out of the corner of his eyes he pushes it out and examines the lack of bullets inside before clasping it closed and looking back up.

Maybe he didn't know there weren’t any bullets in the gun. Maybe he is stupid. I mean he's entering the Games, so I suppose that's answer enough.

"That's enough chatting for now." He adjusts the hat on his head. "Make yourself at home we'll be at Kaprisha soon enough." His boots squeak against the floor as he turns. Opening the door, he stands in the light that enters the room, looking between me and Juilliard, who looks entirely unimpressed. "Are you comfortable?" Marcello looks at me. "Do you need a meal? Or something to drink? Are there any other accommodations that would make this trip better for you?"

I can't entirely tell if he's joking or not. It's pretty safe to assume that he is, because watching a Hybrid go out of their way to help a Human... that would be a first. I answer with a shake of my head.

"Humans are so feeble, I just wanted to make sure you'd stay alive long enough to reach our destination." The swaggering way he runs his teeth over his lips to hide his lordly smile forces me to take a deep breath to calm the rising anger and the tinge of embarrassment I wish I didn't feel.

Soon enough the door closes and I don't have to see his striking features any longer. But when I go to sit behind the desk and close my eyes, somehow the image of his face is burned behind my eyelids.

***

Even before we reach Kaprisha I can hear screams and rowdy cheers. It's like Geno's Bar on