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Summary
There was a girl back in the Akademiya. Odd, that she was so integral to his expulsion, and yet Zandik could not remember her name. He barely remembered her face. He remembered what she looked like when he cut her open at the picnic – the horror so fleeting, how her mouth slanted and froze there, like it intended to slide off her face. She’d thought he was handsome and interesting. He hadn’t cared if she thought he was the ugliest creature Irimsul ever recorded, truthfully. He just wanted to know what it looked like to see someone’s insides, how long it took for them to cool from the unyielding grip of death.
He cared if this stranger thought he was handsome.
“Do you trust me, Veksel?” He asked at last.
And Feofan smiled at him, glitter in those spellbinding eyes. “Not even slightly.”
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Zandik is not certain he loves. But he is certain he knows what he wants -- and what all versions of him have in common.
Series
- Part 1 of Cigarette Smoke and The Nature of Love