“Of course,” Ashul replied with a dismissive shrug. “But in cases like this, letting them live is far more satisfactory. Besides, you did yank my leash so hard I swore I saw the stars of the night goddess before my eyes.”
“All I said was no.” She gave him an irritated look at which his grin widened gleefully.
He slid to a stop in front of her, his body nudging her so that she was forced to stop herself and glower up at him. He leaned forward, his eyes glittering dangerously. He dropped his head, pressing his mouth to her ear.
“And so I did, but one of these days you will say yes, and I will revel in it.”
Lifting his head, he swiped his tongue over her lips in a lavish stroke that she felt straight down to her core before straightening and sauntering away, the squirrel making peculiar chattering sounds at him such as they were for not having any of the body parts to make the sound, just the echo of its spirit and the magic working through it.
Her first bone beast companion and it deserted her for the damned elf.Traitor!
For a moment, she considered stubbornly staying in place and letting the leash snap on him, but after several minutes she groaned and hustled forward. She wasn’t letting that male out of her sight, Gods knew what he would do now that he had seemingly made friends with a murder squirrel.
ChapterTen
Ashul leaned back against the tree—possibly the largest one he had ever seen—his body comfortably cradled in the moss between its massive roots. He looped a leg over one of the roots and stretched. Three more miserable days descending the mountains and they were finally free of hard, uncomfortable rocks for their beds. Being born in the subterranean world of a rough, hilly region, he had grown up in a world of stone softened by wood from the nearby forests, but at least there had been some comforts. Now he was not so sure he ever wanted to see another rocky expanse any time soon. Not when he had now experienced the beauty of the elder forests.
He cast a fond glance down at his companion. The little beast seemed to enjoy the scenery too. No doubt it had never known such richness among the thin trees that managed to cling to the mountains. With one claw, he lightly stroked the cap of fur still stuck to the squirrel’s skull and smiled.
He had never been permitted a pet as a youth. It was considered a waste of time and resources. Or so his father explained in order to curb Ashul’s youthful insistence in the presence of his mother. A pet was a selfish desire—a frivolous thing that would distract him when he should bend his entire mind toward those things which were important. As he grew, he put aside such desires, believing that his father had been wise in his decision and that it had not just been out of desire to spare him his mother’s disdain for his request, having no desire to see such sentimentality in her offspring. He had grown to understand that such sentimentality was a weakness.
He cocked his head as he studied the ridiculous creature that delighted him for a reason that he did not quite understand. Was he finally softening? The squirrel was not really a proper pet in the scheme of things, perhaps it did not count. Even if it did, he decided that he did not mind. When did he ever worry about doing anything proper? He smirked. He was pretty sure he ruined whatever reputation he had among his kind the moment he rose against his queen.
Besides, he was not so idiotic that he believed it to be a real squirrel. The spirit that inhabited the bones had all the instincts of a squirrel and the bloodlust of a troll, but it had a kind of sentience that he found fascinating. And because it was his necromancer’s creation, he decided that he enjoyed its presence all the more.
The squirrel chittered happily and tucked in closer, and he pet its little remaining tuft of fur on its head and running down its spine. Eventually he ended up stroking its tail where the thickest amount of fur remained. He smiled lazily as the tail curled around his neck as he stroked it. He fished around in the small bag on his belt in search for the bag of nuts and seeds that they had acquired at the human town. Grinning, he pulled out a fat walnut and handed it over the squirrel who snatched it from his hand and began to eagerly gnaw on it.
“You do realize that thing is dead,” Robyn said, glancing up at him as she crouched over one of her collapsible pots set over the fire. “It can’t even enjoy that.”
He lifted his free shoulder in a shrug. “Technically, so am I, and there are many things I enjoy.” He gave her a sultry smile. “On some level he is getting something from it. I can suffer the bits falling onto my shoulder.”
“Wonderful.” Her nose wrinkled, and he nearly laughed.
How strange that he felt so light of spirit. When had he last genuinely laughed without mockery or bitter amusement? Had his resurrection changed something within him that had been previously bent under the weight of his life, or was it all because of… her? He scratched his jaw with his claws as he eyed his necromancer—his little songbird. Perhaps it was she who brought him the joy he had not felt since reaching maturity.
She glanced up at him again, arching an eyebrow, and his lips curled as he settled back more comfortably against the tree. Robyn squinted at the squirrel and shook her head.
“I suppose we’re stuck with him for now. At least until I can find something better to transfer the spirit to,” she announced thoughtfully.
“Something better?” he echoed.
Robyn nodded. “The spirit is one that I called, and I’m stuck with it since it’s tied to me now. But as long as I don’t wait too long, I can shift it to a more appropriate vessel to bond with.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean byappropriate?”
A soft amused snort escaped her, and she gave him a quick smile that might have startled the breath from his body to be on the receiving end of were he not so focused on their topic of discussion.
“Come on, Ashul,” she said lightly, for once saying his name correctly, “it’s a squirrel. Hardly the ideal bone pet. Once it’s bonded, it could explode and then reconstruct exactly it is after taking out enemies nearest to me. That poor creature would do no more damage that perhaps maiming a limb. A proper beast should be large and fearsome.”
He shrugged again, his eyes skating over to the creature still eagerly gnawing on its prize from where it was perched on his shoulder. “Perhaps it is not ideal,” he agreed, his eyes shifting back to her. “But perhaps that is part of what makes it so brilliant.”
Robyn gave him a look of disbelief, and the corner of his mouth lifted as the thought settled into his gut. Being different and unexpected was always an advantage. Perhaps his necromancer could not see the value in it just yet since she clearly disliked being different, but he saw only tactical advantage. The best weapon was the one that no one saw coming because it was entirely unexpected.
He slid his tongue over his fangs as he considered the matter further. “I like him,” he admitted. “Deroxas may not be large and fierce, but he is cunning and quick. And he is small enough that he can go unseen. Being different makes him unique and unexpected, and those are good things and can easily be an advantage. Besides, you never seemed to need much protection until I was leashed to you, so while I am here, I shall be all the protection you need.” He gave her a pointed look. “I guarantee I am all the protection you will need.”
She blinked in surprise, but he was the one who was shocked when the words that came from her mouth had nothing to do with his pledge—an oath given rarely and in all seriousness by his kind.
“Deroxas? You named the dead squirrel?”