sorcery and science 04.5 - masquerade Read Free

voice to a whisper. “King River has given me an overview of Elition abilities, but the information was a lot to take in. Is he one of the Phantoms who can read thoughts?”
    For all his knowledge of Elition abilities, the emperor seemed to have forgotten the one thing most humans knew: Elitions had excellent hearing. Silas didn’t mention it. It was easier to keep his blades sheathed if he pretended he hadn’t heard a word.
    “Silas is an Extractor, so he does have the ability to scrape things from a person’s mind.”
    “Scrape? That sounds unpleasant.”
    “But it’s not the same as reading thoughts. At least not in the way you mean. It’s more images and emotions than words, Your Majesty.”
    “Please, call me Ambrose.” He smiled and added, “Livia.”
    It was a good thing a group of outlaws took that moment to attack, or Silas would surely have exploded at the audacity of the emperor’s words. And it was a good thing the three outlaws were Elition because that at least gave him the chance to work off his anger.
    Silas jumped in front of Emperor Selpe, catching a knife one of the bandits had thrown at him. He shot the knife back, landing it in its owner’s stomach. It hit the blue-haired Elition so hard that the man stumbled back with a grunt. His eyes swirling like a stormy sky, he yanked out the knife and spit blood at Silas’s feet.
    “What is this?” Emperor Selpe asked, stepping forward.
    “Livia, keep him back!” Silas shouted, throwing up his knife to block the Serenity sword cleaving through the air toward his head.
    The sword’s wielder was a lithe woman with a dark bronze ponytail pulled up high on her head. She wore fitted black leather from her neck down to her knee-high boots. She hit hard. But Silas hit harder. She staggered away, and as she shook out her sword arm, he pounded the hilt of his knife hard against her temple. She collapsed like a house of twigs.
    Silas pivoted around as the blue-haired man charged at him with the same bloody knife. He caught the outlaw’s arm as it swept forward, yanking it behind him and kicking him hard in the back. The man’s shoulder popped, and Silas tugged on the arm and punched back into his chest, breaking three of his ribs. He threw the rascal down on the ground and gave one controlled kick to his head.
    “I’ve heard of you.” The third Elition’s amethyst eyes gleamed with fear as she glanced down at her unconscious companions. “Wrest, the Primeval Phantom.”
    “Is that what they’re calling me nowadays?” Silas shot her a wicked grin. “Catchy.”
    “You’re a monster,” she spat.
    “I’m a Phantom.” Flames burst up across the length of his blade. “This is just what we do, dear.”
    “Step aside,” she said.
    She managed to keep her tone steady, but he could taste her fear. The Phantom in him lapped it up, begging for more. The flames shot up higher. He felt his control wavering, the desire to cause pain pushing out all reasonable thought. It felt so incredibly good.
    A hand touched down on his arm. He stopped and looked back at Livia.
    “Silas,” she said, projecting a calming energy around him.
    “I’m fine.” He stretched out his hands, his knuckles popping and cracking one after the other. The flames on his knife died down, and he looked at the outlaw. “Why did you attack us?”
    “Not you. Him.” Her angry eyes glared at Emperor Selpe. “He doesn’t belong here. He’s not one of us.”
    “He is the guest of the high queen,” said Livia.
    “Guest?” A shrill cackle of pain burst out of her mouth. “You mean conqueror. If Elitia allies with the Selpes, it will only lead to our destruction.”
    “Says who?”
    “I say. I’ve seen it.” She pointed her skinny finger at Emperor Selpe. “Torment. Slavery. Corruption. Death. That’s all they bring.”
    Silas should have noticed it before. Desolation. Doom Seers always smelled of desolation. Of all the crazy sorts of Prophets, they were by far the