Corrupted: An Epic Dragons and Immortals Romantic Fantasy (Fallen Emrys Chronicles Book 1) by E.E. Everly (motivational books for men txt) 📕

“Don’t you think it’s more challenging to figure each other out with time instead of using our gifts?” Caedryn asked.

“Like a mortal would?”

“If that’s how you’d prefer to think of it, yes.”

I smirked. “Humans are quite perceptive.” Kelyn always understood my physical nuances while Kenrik guessed my moods.

“You’ve learned this in the few weeks you’ve associated with them?”

“They aren’t as inept as I was led to believe.” I took a drink from my goblet, staring over the edge at Caedryn.

“You thought humans were inept? Please, enlighten me.”

Did he think I was insulting him since he was half-human? I certainly wasn’t going to bring up the humans-are-corrupted concept. Caedryn might throw me out of his citadel. “No one from Gorlassar has ever been around humans. We’ve made so many assumptions.”

“Just as you are making assumptions about me, I imagine.”

“What do you know of the emrys?”

“I’m sure just as much as you know about humans,” Caedryn said.

“You are coy.”

“Is that what you sensed in me?” He laughed. “I’m so much more.”

A breadcrumb caught in my throat, and I choked. “I wouldn’t doubt.”

“You find my meekness alluring?”

Oh, Deian. “No, not coy in that sense. You’re vague. Reluctant to reveal much.”

“Would you rather I bared my soul… as you did last night?”

Seren! What did I say?

You rambled mostly about your father and how you were a black sheep. A rebel. A delinquent. I willed you to stop, but I think you gave him a good impression that you don’t follow the rules.

Why don’t I remember?

You were inconsolable. The sleeping draught was much needed.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. “Lord Caedryn—”

“Caedryn—”

“Okay. Caedryn, forgive me. I don’t know how to describe—”

“Niawen, you don’t have to.” His pupils moved as he took me in. Strangely, the brown in his eyes drew me. A vague, yellow light shone from the depths of his soul, and for one second—gone in a flash—the light revealed sorrow.

That’s it. That’s all I saw. I believed the glimpse was unintentional because he blinked and relaxed into his chair.

“I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to have another emrys with the same skills,” he said. “I’ve been around mortals for far too long. It has its disadvantages. Without sensing my emotions, no one sees behind the face. No one has reason to console. Or reason to rejoice.” His voice lowered. “Or reason to fear.”

“You’re saying you’re fearsome?”

His expression darkened. One vein throbbed at his temple as animosity edged his voice. “Those who have faced my wrath would dare say so.”

I snickered at his theatrics. A solid laugh escaped my throat, rolling across the room. Caedryn joined in.

When we settled, both picking up our goblets as if the strange laughter had never happened, I said, “I grew tired of emrys sensing my emotions in Gorlassar. I prefer to keep things private. It’s refreshing being around humans.”

“Really?” Astonishment covered his face. “Yet the first thing you do is probe with your light. You’re a walking contradiction.”

The sausages on my plate were as dried out and as mortified as I felt. I tucked my hands into my lap. “Sensing emotions is so commonplace in Gorlassar. It’s a habit. It’s normal.”

“I see. So it’s perfectly acceptable to sense what I’m feeling, to violate my privacy?”

“It’s not like that. Most of the time, emotions reached me; it’s usually not necessary to discern deeper. Nothing is secret in Gorlassar. With emotions on display, I didn’t have to play immature guessing games.” Unless someone chose to block certain emotions.

His chuckle shook his chest. “Immature guessing games? Am I playing immature guessing games with you?”

“I won’t look again.”

“Relax, Niawen.” His voice lowered as he enunciated his words. “I haven’t even begun playing games.”

My mouth parted, ready to retort.

“I apologize,” he said. “I suppose I’m used to being alone in my perception of humans. I’ve made my own game of it.”

“Do you toy with them?”

“Not as much as I’d like to. But I’ll tell you a secret.” Caedryn leaned toward me. “Humans can’t guess your emotions if you don’t show them. You don’t have to let them in. No one needs to read your innermost feelings. You can keep them private.”

“Is that what you believe? You believe someone couldn’t possibly fathom what goes on in your head if they can’t see the expression on your face?” Kelyn’s words scraped over my conscience. When you’re heated or impassioned or worried, every sign is revealed in your posture, your step, your intonation. You hide behind sharp words. Caedryn was in error.

“You tell me. What do you see now, without discerning?”

I huffed. I shook my head. Flustered—I was flustered. An idiot could know how I was feeling. I’m so dumb. I stiffened. Too many times I reacted with unrestrained emotions. The way I flared at Aneirin. The way I mooned about after my heartbreak. Owein guessed at my feelings. Kelyn saw me. Kenrik bubbled my emotions to the surface. I was behaving human—had been behaving human.

“Niawen?”

I was no different. By rebelling against my father, by fighting with him and the ways of our people, I was acting human. No wonder he’d exiled me.

And Caedryn wanted me to look at just him, not inside him. Could I be as observant as Kelyn? Could I observe like a mortal and lay aside my gifts and read the inflection in Caedryn’s voice, note the nuances in his posture and in his movements?

It’s what he wants me to do.

Because he has secrets. He’s been around mortals for “far too long,” and they’re full of secrets—full of corruption.

I smiled. Caedryn was saying, Don’t read me because I’m hiding something. And by doing so, he was starting a game.

A human game of deception.

His eyebrows quirked.