Page 58 of Ashen Torment

“Put that... weapon down!”

A corner of my mouth lifts while my gaze remains fixed.

“Dorian,” he insists, his voice growing sterner, “it isn’t a joke.”

I roll my eyes, my patience exhausted, and slowly return the revolver to my pocket.

“Why on earth do you carry that thing with you?”

“Why do you not carry one, rather?”

“Why ever should I?” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to set it back in order.

He will never admit that, for a brief moment, a shiver of fear ran through him.

But I saw it.

I smelled it.

“The world is a dangerous place, brother.”

“You are the danger,” he retorts.

A low laugh escapes me, and I take a step back, creating space between us.

“I didn’t travel all this way to find a barrel pointed at my face,” he adds, his eyes fixed on the now-hidden revolver.

“I wasn’t aiming at your face.”

Lucien approaches anyway, with that hesitant step that betrays his caution.

“Duck,” I say, without looking away from the trees.

“Wha—”

He begins to object, but the swift movement of my arm convinces him. Zver’ returns to my glove, his talons clamped around a small rabbit still twitching against his breast feathers. I stroke the falcon’s head, offering him a scrap of meat to release the prey, and delicately take the rabbit from his grip.

“How can you trust that beast?” he asks with a suspicious look. “He could blind you in a heartbeat.”

“He could,” I say, clutching the rabbit in my other hand, “but he doesn’t.”

“And if he did?”

“Then you would have a blind brother.”

I turn and walk toward the aviary, with Zver’ circling just above me and Lucien keeping a safe distance.

A light morning mist remains suspended among the branches, before us, my falconer awaits with a grave face beneath a hat pulled low over thick, dark brows. I extend my arm, and he takes Zver’ with caution. The falcon, reluctant, emits a low screech. I stroke his breast feathers to calm him.

Any creature can be tamed.

Even the proudest and most defiant.

Slowly he detaches, William lifting him in his expert hands, while I turn toward Lucien, ready to resume our walk.

“Well?” I ask, my hands brushing the pockets of my waistcoat.

“What?” Lucien replies, walking at my side as we head toward Mekhovaya House.