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

Our personal area is almost as large as the living space, with two king-size mattresses pressed on one wall. Each with their own assortment of pillows and decorative pictures above the headboards. I try not to look at it too much. Try not to give the war inside of me too much power. I want to rip this room to shreds just as much as I want to relax on the velvet armchairs to my left. I sigh, heavily.

"When you shower, do you shed your skin?" Hedda cocks her head.

"What?"

"When you shower—”

"Stop," I raise a hand to stop her. "I heard you, I'm just confused why you would ask a fucking stupid question like that?"

"Don't you shed skin like that all the time?"

"Like a snake? No. I imagine I'll scuff off some dry skin, but not so much it’s really visible. Are these the type of questions I can expect from you?" I untie my cloak, tossing it on the bed I'm claiming as my own and head to the open bathroom door.

"Will it hurt when you take off the dead skin?" Hedda props herself on the edge of her bed, undoing the clasps of a long, large hard-shell piece of baggage. She lifts out a bolt action sniper rifle and points it down to the floor, running a finger along its barrel.

"Does your skin not flake off when it gets dry or dead?"

"Not particularly. No, not that I've noticed."

The issue is that I don't take Hedda as someone who notices all that much. She's not a fumbling idiot by any means and I know she's particular about some things, like her business. Other things that to her seem more trivial, don't get any notice at all. That’s not even to add that Orcs are the most scaly, dry, looking creatures I've ever seen.

Next to some of the Merfolk, that is. You would think that creatures that mainly reside in the waters would be well hydrated. They're not. They have these rough fish-like scales with a metallic shine to them that hang off their bodies at every odd angle. If you touch them too roughly, the scales will fall right off of them. I wish to the Saints that I am joking about that right now, but it's the Saints-awful truth.

Worse than the Merfolk though is any other half-beast thing. Hybrids that share blood with everyday beasts. I'm talking Werewolves or Centaurs. Can't forget about Fauns either. Even less common Hybrids, and that’s probably because they're too stupid to survive. Merfolk may shed their skin all too easily, but the fucking half-n-half Human beast things, they're dumber than an entire box of rocks.

Sadly, this is the problem with me, though I'm not sure I can really call it a problem. So let me rephrase that. Funny enough, others might perceive my abilities to always find some other Hybrid more grotesque than another in one way or another as negative, on the contrary though, I find this ability to be realistic. Useful even.

I stare back at Hedda with nothing else to add to the conversation and unlace my boots. The salty scent of sweat immediately drifts up to me and I know Juilliard wasn't lying when he suggested that I run to take a shower. When I stand I have to glance back at the bed to be certain that I haven't left behind a ring of dirt. The gray comforter remains without proof of my presence on it except for a few wrinkles here and there.

Every time my thin socks press into the tiled floors I can feel how wet with sweat they truly are. Each step leaves behind the faintest impression of my footprints on the gloss of the tile if the light hits it just right. I'm thankful to leave behind my conversation with Hedda, closing the bathroom door quickly before she can ask some other ridiculous question. My fingers twist on the lock and I test the door to make sure that it works. To my surprise it does. Most every door has a lock on it. Not many are actually functioning in my experience.

Every inhale and exhale repeats in the large open bathroom. Centered in the middle of the room is what I would consider a small pool set a few steps down into the floor. Water trickles down into it like raindrops from a faucet that hangs from the ceiling. It's all very relaxing and totally over the top. Is this really necessary? Would a simple shower or regular sized tub not work? I guess for larger Hybrids, a pool like this would be helpful.

Towels hang along the wall behind the calm waiting waters. Next to that a sink presses against a wall entirely made of mirrors where I can see my dirt streaked cheeks and how pathetic I look against the lavish expense of the room itself. A small vase of purple flowers sits on the counter, adding to the overall refreshing scent.

I watch myself undress. Watch as my fingers work at the buttons of my vest and the top of my leather pants. Both garments stay stiff, holding the curve of my body, even after I peel them away from my skin. If I run my fingers along my torso, I can count my ribs over every ridge where they protrude. My stomach is minimally sunken in. With the Elves, I've had more regular meals than an average day. The only proof that something good is coming from this thus far. Maybe I'll finally be able to fill out.

Without any clothing, the humidity clings to me, keeping me warm until I turn from my wasted image and start down the steps into the pool. Hot soapy water crawls up my legs and settles just below my chest when I