Page 207 of Starside

“Impressive. For a human,” he says.

I give a poisonous smile. “Kind. For an immortal,” I say, as he twirls me. I see his sword, leaning against one of the shelves. He doesn’t ever carry it unless he has to. I wonder why. I also wonder about something else.

“How can you make that map, with your sword?” Is it something I could learn with mine?

In response, Vander uses our joined hands to summon his blade. It floats right above us. Then, in mesmerizing slowness, I watch as the metal turns liquid.

The paladian peels apart, and long silver curls begin to swim around us, sparkling and casting light like they each contain galaxies.

“This is a morphblade,” he explains. “A sword that can change properties.” All at once, the metal melts into a half dozen daggers. Then, a mess of throwing stars. Finally, it fuses again, forming a sword, and glimmers as Vander makes its blade longer, curving it into a scythe.

“It’s also a godsword,” I say, and Vander’s brow raises. He doesn’t ask where I learned that.

“Correct. A blade can be more than one thing, Aris. They can be just as multifaceted as people, gaining skills and powers over time.”

We continue our dance, with his blade still floating above us. “Just like people?” I say. “Is this you trying to convince me you’re misunderstood? You’re not the monster everyone whispers about?”

His lips twitch. Mouth already open in retort, he gently turns me for my first spin.

But whatever he was going to say dies in his throat.

He’s still gripping my hand. I turn back toward him, smiling, before I see that his gaze is fixed firmly on my wrist. And the sleeve that has ridden up over it.

I pull my arm back, stumbling. His sword is still gleaming above. I’ve seen how easily he can bend the metal to his will.

There’s no escaping him, but I try. Slowly, I step away, until my spine hits the books. My heart hammers in my chest.

Vander just looks at me. A moment passes.

Then he takes a slow step forward, with all the smooth gracefulness of a creature happening upon easy prey.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says, as if he can smell my fear. “If I wanted to kill you, you’d already be dead.” He says it so matter-of-factly, I swallow.

He reaches toward my hand again. I should cut his damn hand off. But his sword is just as good as mine, and I have nowhere to go.

I don’t dare breathe as his fingers grip my sleeve.

He hesitates. “Is this okay?”

No. No, it’s not. It shouldn’t be. Still, I might be afraid … but not of him. Not anymore. I nod.

He lifts my arm, so it’s right between us. I close my eyes as the fabric slowly rips, down my wrist. Lower. Lower. Cold air spills across my bare skin as it’s revealed, inch by inch. He stops right above my elbow. And I hear a sharp inhale.

“Silver” is all he says. It’s enough.

I open my eyes, and he’s staring at me like I’m not some lowly street rat, or thief, or blacksmith’s apprentice. He’s staring at me like I am something to marvel at, in this castle where everything is ancient and priceless.

“Now you see …” I say, my voice raw and brittle. “Now you see why I need to hide. Why my dress … why my dress needs to cover.”

“No,” Vander says, with pure conviction. “You don’t need to hide. You never need to hide, Aris. If you want to survive, you won’t hide at all. You will show them exactly what you are.”

I take a shaking breath. His eyes are still on my wrist. “And what is that?”

His rough fingers gently scrape down my pulse, down my knuckles, down my markings, and I gasp. No one’s ever seen me and marveled.

He leans down, and I can feel his breath right against my pulse.

“Magnificent,” he says.