Page 24 of Unseen Lord

He shrugged, slipping his book into a hidden pocket of his black cloaks. "Everyone knows the niece of Sly the Mysterious. You're quite an enigma."

I raised an eyebrow at that. I'd never been called an enigma before and found I quite liked it. "I don't know about that. I just… keep to myself mostly."

He grinned at me, revealing a dimpled left cheek that did strange things to my stomach. "That's what makes you an enigma. Your friend, she's out there, center of attention. Anyone can get to know her. But you… you're like a shadow. A mystery. An intrigue."

My face flushed hot at his unexpected compliments. To distract myself from this new and slightly uncomfortable feeling, I held up the bottle I'd swiped. "Want to try it?"

The boy nodded and held out his hand. "I'm Devon by the way. From Dragoncliff."

"Nice to meet you," I said, in my most grown up manner, then sat next to him on the bench facing the garden below. This was a special place, not just because of how private it was, but because of the garden itself. It contained rare plants found on other worlds, gifts given to Uncle Sly over the centuries. He cultivated them and created a magical world in the little space. At night it was particularly magnificent, as many of the flowers and plant glowed in the darkness, casting rays of color into the night. Light bugs floated lazily around a flower the size of man. It only bloomed at night under a full moon, and we happened to catch it at just the right time.

"This is an incredible place," Devon said.

I nodded and studied the liquor. The bottle was clear, showcasing a fire red liquid. The glass was said to be made from the sand dunes of Elythia, but those are unsubstantiated rumors since that land is uninhabitable. I ran a finger over the etchings on the bottle, hieroglyphs in the style of the Nelpam Tribe. I could only make out a few words. Language wasn't my strongest class, and there were so many to learn. Uncle Sly wanted me at least passingly familiar with all of them.

As I pulled the cork off, the smell hit me hard and fast and, had I been alone, I likely would not have touched it. But Devon looked at me expectantly, so I couldn't chicken out.

I took a swig and felt an instant burn in my mouth that trailed all the way down my throat and into my gut. I was pretty sure this vile liquid could burn the scales off a dragon, but I grimaced without sound and passed it to Devon, watching his reaction carefully.

He took a generous gulp, but his face held steady, as if he was drinking a lemon mint spritzer and not the acidic discharge from a demon's hindquarters.

When he handed the bottle back to me, my eyes widened in reflexive fear. I could already feel the effects of this magical concoction and worried for what it would do to me if I continued to consume it.

He looked at me expectantly, his dark eyes drilling into mine. I smiled like this was something I did all the time—it wasn't—and took another gulp, the smallest one I could without looking like a wuss.

His eyebrow raised, as if impressed, then he doubled the amount he took in. This time, he couldn't hide the effects. His face turned red and eyes bugged out as he tried not to choke. I took the bottle from him as he held in a cough. I was on the verge of laughter but tried to suppress it. Laughing at him seemed a bad idea, but then he started laughing, and it broke the tension between.

I set the bottle down, gently plugging it back up with the cork, and we laughed longer than the experience required. The heat that burned into me now spread throughout my body and everything felt lighter. The glowing flowers of the garden danced in a wind I could see but not feel, as everything around me moved and swayed.

Or maybe it was just me moving and swaying. I couldn't tell anymore.

"Is this your first time drinking?" he asked, after a long moment of silence.

Had I been sober, I would have lied, but it seemed the liquor stripped me of my inhibitions—and my ability to bluster. "Yes."

I leaned back against the stone wall behind us, my body limp and loose. "You probably do this all the time," I said.

He laughed at that. "What makes you think so?"

I shrugged. "Don't know. You seem the type."

"And what type is that?"

"Brooding, rebellious. Not held back by rules." The things I secretly wanted to be but never had to the guts to really do. Truth be told, this was the first time I'd really—for real—broken the rules Uncle Sly had for me. And honestly, it wasn't a biggie. I hated to admit it about myself, but I was a rule follower, through and through.

It was something I was working on. Maybe being around Devon would be good for me. He could help me cultivate a more rebel image.

"Interesting," he said, but offered nothing more about whether my assessment of him was correct or not. "Tell me about you, Iris. What makes you tick?"

"Um… " I didn't think he wanted to hear about my training. Besides, I'd heard stories about the training kids received at Dragoncliff Academy. He'd probably scoff at what I did. "There's not much to tell really. I've been raised here all my life. I'll eventually become a Hunter, once I'm old enough. Shouldn't be too long now." Uncle Sly had promised I could take the Hunter test soon, and though he'd never quite defined what 'soon' meant, I was going to hold him to my definition of the word.

Devon nodded somberly. "Want to see something?" he asked.

"Sure."

He held out his hand and a flurry of light flickered over it until a beautiful black raven appeared, perching serenely. "This is Pitch. He's my Spirit. You can pet him if you want."

I'd never been this close to a raven before, or any bird really. I ran a finger down the soft feathers and the bird closed his eyes as if he enjoyed it.