Witchmarked (World's First Wizard Book 1) by Aaron Schneider (my reading book .txt) 📕

In response, Milo took a sip and then a drag on his cigarette to buy time. As he sent a jet of smoke into the night, he realized he wasn’t sure what to make of the situation.

“So, we are friends?” Milo said, the words coming out flatter and harder than he’d intended.

Contessa Rihyani paused and frowned over the cup she’d just raised to her lips.

“I’d like to think so,” she said, the barest hint of rebuke in her tone. “I’ve been more forthright with you than most of my own kind, let alone any human I’ve ever encountered. I supposed I’d hoped that sort of thing would engender trust and camaraderie. Was I wrong?”

“I’m sorry,” Milo said quickly, the look in her eyes a warning he was eager to heed. “It’s just that, well, you’re not only the first fey I’ve ever been friends with, but also the first woman, or female, I’ve ever been friends with.”

Rihyani laughed, the sound producing that same ache in Milo’s chest.

“That’s me,” she said, tossing her head back to strike a regal pose. “A pioneer all over again.”

“I suppose so,” Milo said, acutely aware of how blank his mind had gone. “So, uh, the news?”

Rihyani turned to look at him again, and Milo busied himself with enjoying his coffee to avoid the gaze that was making him uncomfortable. She held the stare long enough that Milo was certain he was being rude by avoiding her gaze before letting out a sigh and drawing on her cigarillo again.

“The Bashlek agrees with the plan, obviously,” she said as she sent twin jets from her nostrils. “He even recommended some areas that we utilize for depositing the bodies. He says they’ll be close enough to the enemy lines to seem reasonable positions for an ambush.”

“That’s helpful,” Milo said, nodding. “We’ll just have to make sure that we don’t stumble into a real ambush when we go to set things up.”

Rihyani tapped some ash off on the rail of the veranda before scattering it with a gust of conjured wind from her fingertip.

“We can scout the locations out ahead of time,” she said, looking down into the small courtyard in front of the house.

“Thank you,” Milo said woodenly, hating how stiff and distant the conversation seemed. He wished he could say something to put the contessa at ease, to draw her into those familiar tones, but it was no use. With disgust, he thought he might have an easier time talking to Imrah than this radiant creature.

“Fazihr returned to Ifreedahm,” Rihyani said once the silence had stretched past the point of discomfort. “But he did not return to the court of the Bashlek.”

Milo looked up through his cigarette smoke with a frown

“Where did he go?”

Rihyani took another drink before setting her cup down in front of her.

“To Lady Dazk,” she said, her tone making it easy to guess how she felt about the matter. “The rumor is the little worm crawled back to Dazk with all sorts of slander and scandal coming off his poisonous tongue. Tales from the broken House of Marid and the wayward daughter Imrah.”

The fey gave a sniff of disgust before drawing and exhaling a dragon’s share of pungent smoke.

“It’s unlikely a word of it is true, but his treachery could prove an unwelcome complication for Marid. Perhaps it is for the best that all this happened. Now is a most uncertain time for you in Ifreedahm.”

Milo let out a long curse along with a plume of smoke.

“Should we tell Imrah?” he asked before flicking the butt into the courtyard below. “Or will she already know?”

Rihyani shrugged.

“In all the time I have known Marid, he’s never acted as though Imrah cared that her father was the Bashlek.”

She let out a final puff of smoke before vanishing the cigarillo with a flick of her fingers.

“Tell her if you want, but there is something of greater concern for Ifreedahm besides who is Bashlek.”

“What now?” Milo groaned after frowning into his empty cup.

Rihyani turned toward him, and he wasn’t quick enough to look away. Her gaze pinned him in place, intent that he pay very close attention to her words.

“More ghuls have gone missing,” she said, her lips tightening into a grim line. “More outposts near routes where humans have been spotted. There are growing mutters of it being the work of humans, which only stokes fears and produces calls for Marid to do something. He’s shut up the city, and precious few are allowed to pass the gates. Still, those who go near the surface tunnels disappear.”

Milo swore bitterly and shook his head.

“Almost like someone wants to provoke the two sides to war,” Milo growled, cupping the mug in both hands.

“Almost,” Rihyani replied with a nod.

Milo chewed his lip before heaving a sigh.

“What are the odds that thing in the tunnels isn’t involved?” Milo sighed. “I mean, seriously; disappearing ghul outpost and human patrols, all leaving no evidence, so everyone is poking around and asking more questions. What are the odds a creature like that just shows up now?”

Rihyani gave him a wry smile.

“Most unlikely,” she said. “I asked the Bashlek if he’d heard of anything like what you described, and he mentioned very ancient tales of bound demons and forbidden experiments, but he didn’t seem to give it much credence. Either way, if it becomes bold enough to attack Ifreedahm, he’s been told it doesn’t like fire.”

“That’s something,” Milo said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Rihyani said and turned back to the courtyard as she gave him a sidelong glance. “If we were friends, I’d tell you I was glad to do it.”

“If?” Milo asked.

“If.” She nodded.

“If we were friends,” Milo said, joining her in gazing across the courtyard, “I’d tell you to be careful, and I looked forward to seeing you in a weeks’ time.”

“If?” she said softly.

“If.”

Imrah did not return from her ramblings, which Ambrose muttered darkly must be finding “ghul-fodder” until early the next morning,