Trickskin (Worldwalker Book 1)

by Amelia R. Moore

  Nolan laughed. “Sure, Lail.”

  Loken blinked at the nickname but decided if he wasn't going to protest ‘Princess,’ then he couldn’t protest ‘Lail.’ Besides, he was certain if he reacted to a nickname, Nolan was twice as likely to keep using it.

  “So, I was wondering, why not do that with your Drakain form?”

  The universe came to a screeching halt. “I beg your pardon?” A chill of anxiety rushed down his spine.

  “Well, it's just another weapon in your arsenal, right? Being used to it might—”

  “I'll never willingly take that form!” Loken hissed, outraged that Nolan dared tread upon a topic that wasn’t his business. “It’s hideous, vile, monstrous—”

  “Woah, woah. What? Back up. Did you just call yourself—”

  “Do you think I don't see what this is? A ploy to get me to shift!” Paranoia enthralled him. Before he could silence his tongue, he was instigating, lashing out with a vicious offense. “Want to stare at the beast, do you?” He tried desperately to reign in his fury, but it was like grasping smoke. “Look elsewhere if you wish to gape at a monster!”

  “Who the fuck hurt you?” Nolan asked, taken aback. “You’re not a monster, Lail!”

  “You know nothing of who and what I am.” It was the unqualified truth as much as it was a challenge.

  Nolan raised both brows. “Yeah? Let’s see. I know you’re not a fan of juice. You say it’s because of the sugar, but I’ve seen how you like your coffee.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” Loken growled.

  “Who’s joking? I know you have a wicked sense of humor and a flare for the dramatic, but I also know you’re brilliant and cultured, and guess what? You’re a Drakain! So, maybe they’re not all bad, huh?”

  “I was raised Evoir,” Loken groused, fury settling into irritation. “It’s hardly the same.”

  “Plenty of people raise wild animals, and guess what? They’re still wild animals.”

  Logic had always been Loken’s favorite weapon, but today it seemed content to remain an enemy. Everything Nolan said made sense, but Nolan didn’t know how horrid the Drakain were. “No. No, they’re monsters. I’m...I’m a monster.” If that wasn’t true, if there wasn’t some inherent darkness inside of him, then his failings were his own. “I’m—”

  “For the last time! You’re not a—” Nolan gasped abruptly, and then, to Loken’s horror, crumbled to the ground in a heap.

  Loken’s heart froze as he all but leaped from the counter and stumbled, falling to his knees at Nolan’s side. His body protested, but he ignored the aches in favor of appraising the fallen man. He was breathing, eyes closed, and there didn’t seem to be anything visibly wrong. Should Loken call someone? His magic, weak as it was, jumped to his fingertips. Without weighing the cost and benefits, he tried with all his might to cast a diagnostics spell, but healing magic had never been his specialty. What was he thinking? He’d fail, and Nolan would die while he wasted time!

  Panic gripped his heart in its icy, clawed hands.

  Sora and Darby being kidnapped, Nora being shot... If Nolan’s death was added to the list, he wasn’t certain he’d survive it.

  “Please tell me you didn’t hurt yourself,” Nolan said abruptly, eyes still closed. “They’ll kill me. Raaum could probably murder me with her pinkie.” He sat up partially, winced, and rubbed the back of his head with a groan.

  Loken blinked, jaw slightly agape.

  “Don’t stare at me like that. I needed to make a point. Also, ow. I think I hit my head with that stunt.” He stood slowly.

  “What…” Loken only looked up at him, helplessly and openly baffled.

  “Here.” Nolan offered a hand.

  Too tired and confused to resist, Loken let Nolan help him to his feet.

  Nolan patted his shoulder and, when they were both standing, said, “I think I proved my point. You, my friend, are not a monster. Your first instinct was to make sure I was okay. You know who doesn’t do that? Monsters. And what was that at the end? The warmth? You don’t have the magic to shift at will, but you were willing to use what little you had for me? I’m touched, Lail.”

  “I…” Loken couldn’t remember the last time he’d been rendered speechless. Nor could he recall the last time he’d been so casually outplayed.

  Nolan grinned. “I think I won that argument, but don’t worry. You came in a respectable second place.”

  Loken tried to reflect on what had just happened but it was too much. He’d surprised himself by how he reacted, but Nolan didn't bat an eye. As if Loken had behaved exactly as he'd predicted.

  “Muscles still weak, huh?” Nolan looked like he was contemplating a puzzle. “Got it! Come with me. I’ve got an idea you'll love.”

  Nolan’s idea required Loken to change into a large t-shirt (“Trust me. The women will tear you a new one if you ruin their stuff."), adorn borrowed briefs, and tape plastic bags over his arms. Nolan changed into shorts and a t-shirt, his metal leg on display, before leading the way to a different part of the complex, near the gym.

  He’d refused Nolan’s help as they walked, clutching the IV pole for support, so their progress was slow, giving him plenty of time to reflect on the fact that the borrowed clothes smelled of the inventor.

  The moment they entered the pool room, a strange chemical assaulted his nose and distracted him. If not for that, it would have reminded him of the bathing pools on Rellaeria. For the distinction, he supposed, he was thankful.

  Nolan led him to a small, circular pool with steam billowing from its shallow depths. Endless bubbles disturbed the surface.

  “Hot tub,” he said at Loken’s quizzical look. “Since you can't get your arms wet just yet, this'll do. You sit in the pool on the outer edge, drape your arms on the rim. That'll keep ‘em dry. Then, let the hot water work its magic. And when your arms are better, you can use the main pool to build your strength, right?”

  Without waiting for an answer, Nolan descended the stairs, sank shoulder deep into the middle of the hot tub, and sighed. “Only an Old Fashioned could make this better.”

  Loken watched him, pleased to see that the metal leg was hydrophobic as he’d enspelled it to be. “The leg suits you, I take it?”

  “You kidding? It’s brilliant. Now, stop stalling, and hop in.”

  Wearily, Loken moved the IV pole to the edge of the small pool. Testing a single foot, he was surprised by the heat but not dissatisfied. So he continued down the stairs, one careful step at a time. Warmth enveloped him, welcoming and relieving, and he immediately wished he could submerge himself in it. Fleeting consideration of casting a hydrophobic spell was dismissed. It wasn't worth risking reverting to his Drakain form. Even if Nolan was right about his status as a monster (and Loken wasn't certain he was), Loken had no desire to parade around in that skin.

  “Like it, Princess?” Nolan asked smugly.

  Loken hummed, eyes closed, and was content to listen to the sound of bubbling water.

  “They don’t have hot tubs on Rellaeria?”

  “Not quite like this,” Loken admitted. “Hot baths, yes. The jet stream, no.”

  “You poor depraved soul. All that luxury and not a single hot tub.”

  “Luxury?” Loken echoed lazily, resting the back of his head on the edge of the pool.

  “You said you were a prince, right? Hence luxury. Or was Uncle-King-Dick more like the wicked stepmother from Cinderella? Were you scrubbing floors while your brother and cousin lived it up?”

  Disregarding the last comment—(What was a stepmother?)—Loken wrestled with the urge to point out that he had no brother or cousin. It had all been a lie, crafted to manipulate and control him.

  (No brother. No father. No mother.)

  The last hurt the most. Grief bloomed anew in his throat, tight and painful, but he swallowed it down. “I suppose prince is an apt term, but scion was my official title.”

  “Scion.” Nolan sampled the word. “So, no hot tubs in your castl
e—”

  “Palace,” Loken corrected without hesitation. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time or place for such a conversation. Whether that was due to the medication, the bubbling water, or the company, Loken found his tongue far too loose.

  “—what does Rellaeria have?”

  It was such a broad question, but it was designed to be. An invitation to talk. Though a large part of him wanted to decline the offer, he recognized that Nolan had given him much. What if Nolan decided that generosity was limited? Answering a few questions seemed a harmless method of repayment.

  There were many that, when thought they were due payment, asked for much more.

  He discarded the memory threatening to rise and focused on another. The rich scents of blossoming trees and flowers, petals dancing on the breeze. “It has one of the grandest gardens you’ll ever see, a botanical menagerie of exotic and native flora. It’s located on the palace grounds and is vast, more than one could explore in a single day.” The garden held so many good memories that he couldn’t help the wistful tone as he said, “It was my mother’s pride and joy, and she shared it with me. I spent many days there at her side.” A ghost of a smile crossed his lips as he remembered. “She claimed, when I was a youngling, I would keep the gardeners from their work with my incessant questions.”

  Silence stretched between them so long that Loken opened his eyes to see why.

  Nolan was staring at him as if he’d never seen him before.

  Dread made Loken tense. Had his guise slipped? He checked but saw no a hint of that disgusting blue-green skin.

  “You’re fine, Lail,” Nolan said, still looking as if he'd been caught off guard. “It’s just…for a moment, I could see it. Like we were there. It was so real, I swear I could smell it.”

  He’d woven an illusion without intending to? Pretending he’d done so on purpose would disguise his moment of weakness, but he had no desire for Nolan to think he was feigning magical exhaustion. If they thought he was lying, he might lose what little trust he’d garnered.

  (And what do you plan to do with that trust?)

  “My apologies,” Loken said stiffly. “That was unintentional.”

  “No problem. It was beautiful. You must miss it, huh? Even after everything.”

  His instinct was to deny it. As if admitting to his homesickness might empower it. In the end, he shrugged. “I miss...some things.”

  “Like your mother.”

  Stunned by the accurate observation, Loken could find nothing to say.

  “You know, you can tell me to back off. I'm not known for listening when someone tells me that, but you don't have to let me pry. In case no one has made this clear, you don't owe me. Not for helping with the rescue, not for Harvey, and certainly not for living here. You're not gonna get yourself kicked out.”

  How Nolan had seen straight to the core of his insecurities Loken didn't know. Was it so obvious that, when apathy retreated, he feared losing what little he had left by forgetting to be gracious? “Why? Why help me?” Ungrateful as it sounded, he couldn't understand.

  “Because I can.” Nolan ran a hand through his hair, trying not to look perplexed. “Sometimes having the power to help is reason enough. Isn't it?”

  Loken didn't think it was. Not for most and certainly not where he was concerned. Then, he remembered how he'd met Nora and how he'd taken a detour at the Archangel’s compound to release the prisoners one-by-one. If he could help others and expect nothing, why couldn't he believe the reverse was true?

  (Experience has taught you better.)

  “So,” Nolan said. “You really grew up having no idea you're Drakain? There were no signs at all? No repressed love for sunbathing or something?”

  He was prodding, Loken realized. Seeing if Loken would tell him to back off and, perhaps, prove that it was alright for him to do so. It was a touchy subject; Loken was ashamed that he’d never guessed the truth—as if believing the lies his ‘parents’ told him somehow reflected on him more than their lying reflected on them—and shame made him lash out. However, Nolan’s tone wasn't accusatory or condescending.

  “Changeling abilities don’t work like that,” Loken replied. “When I change forms, I change completely. I become that form.” Which was why his Evoir skin had always felt true, and one could argue that a changeling had no true form.

  Nolan frowned, visibly wrestling with his curiosity. “Wait. So, you’re genuinely a woman right now? In every way? Biologically, I mean.”

  Though Loken wondered why the inventor was so interested, Nolan didn’t look at him with disdain or disgust. That alone earned him an answer. “Yes.”

  “That’s one hell of a party trick.”

  Loken bristled. “A trick? Complex magic isn’t a trick, but I wouldn’t expect—”

  “Woah, Lail. No offense meant.” Nolan held up his hands.

  Wearily, Loken let his hackles fall. He didn’t enjoy having his talents dismissed.

  “Look, in all honesty, I’m in awe. You could be anyone, anything. Out there—” Nolan gestured broadly. “—maybe you feel you have to be someone else, but here? I want you to know you can be you. Drakain, man, or woman.”

  Lips curling into a sneer, Loken said, “You list them as if there’s no difference.” As if being Drakain was no different than his transformation into a woman. Admittedly, Nolan handled them with equal grace.

  “To me, there’s not.” Nolan shrugged. “We don’t have the perceptions about the Drakain that Rellaeria does. I mean, you stand out in that form, but no one here cares.”

  Instead of making a comment about humanity’s ignorance of the cosmos, Loken said, almost challengingly, “And your perceptions on gender?”

  Nolan leaned back and stretched his arms across the rim of the pool. “Well, we don’t have changelings here... And there’s tons of assholes who think your reproductive organs define you, but I like to think that isn’t the majority.”

  Alarm raced through him at the sudden realization that Harvey may not share Nolan’s opinion. Perhaps a second therapy session would best be put off until...never.

  Nolan exited the pool without a word, and Loken nearly pouted. He didn’t particularly want to leave the luxurious heat. Then, it quickly became apparent that Nolan was looking for something in a cabinet against the far wall, and he returned with a bottle that read 35 Year Old Single Malt Scotch.

  Nolan sat on Loken’s left and set down two shot glasses. “Wanna play a game?”

  “Does it involve getting drunk and passing out in the hot tub?” Because, if so, Loken was invested in that idea.

  “I do that every Thursday. Nah, this game is better. Basically, we take turns asking each other questions. If you don’t wanna answer truthfully, you can take a shot, but the first person to take three shots loses.”

  “I see.” Loken didn’t attempt to conceal his suspicion. “And what does the winner get?”

  “Bragging rights?”

  “Hm.” A chance to ask Nolan embarrassingly personal questions with little risk except for being asked personal questions in return. Ones that he could deny answering. Of course, Loken was naturally competitive at games, so he’d be driven to win… “I accept.”

  Nolan grinned, poured them each a shot, and rejoined him in the hot tub. “Alright. Go ahead, Princess. I’m an open book.”

  Loken contemplated it, searching for an interesting question that would be too personal for Nolan to answer. So, regardless of if he answered, it was a win-win for Loken. “Why do you regret your biggest regret?”

  Nolan looked flabbergasted. “Starting off heavy, huh? Right for the throat.” Then, after debating it, he downed the shot and grinned wolfishly. “My turn. Have you ever had sex as a woman?”

  Damn him. Loken debated the merits of refusing to answer, but he reasoned that Nolan wasn't asking for the story behind it. “Yes.” And then, with a mischievous smile, asked, “Why do you regret your biggest regret?”

  Nolan barked a laugh. “Oh, that's
devious. Okay. Fine. I see how it is, but from now on, no repeat questions. Got it?” Satisfied with Loken’s eye-roll, he answered, “I regret how self-absorbed I was before the accident.”

  Loken had expected the accident itself to be his biggest regret, so the answer caught him off guard.

  “Before all this, I worked on AI projects for the military, and I didn't care how they used it. I only cared about the money, the challenge. After the accident…it was a slow transformation, mind you, but I started to see how I could help others with similar handicaps.” He took a breath. “I guess I regret it because it feels like wasted time. I could have been...helping more than my bank account.”

  Loken didn't know what to say. Was Nolan lying to make himself look better? Altruism wasn’t real. Guilt. If Nolan was being honest, guilt was the motivator. Right?

  Nolan continued the game, unaware of Loken’s internal dilemma. “What was going through your mind when you tried to kill yourself in my bathroom?”

  Baring his teeth, Loken snatched the shot glass and downed it in a single gulp. The flavor was appalling, as most Earthen alcohol seemed to be.

  Nolan, looking smugger than he should, refilled their shot glasses. “Tied. I like my odds.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Loken growled, choosing his next plan of attack. “What was the last lie you told?”

  “Fuck.” Nolan drummed his fingers on the rim of the pool. “You’re good at this, Princess. I’m impressed.”

  Loken hummed in approval of the praise, but he wasn’t a fool. If Nolan was hesitating to answer, then the lie was either to someone they both knew...or it was to Loken. One way or another, he’d find out.

  Nolan took a shot, shook his head, and asked, “What are you most ashamed of?”

  What wasn’t he ashamed of? Loken eyed the shot glass. It would spare his dignity to just down the scotch...but he was under no illusions that Nolan couldn’t ask worse questions. Wasting a shot now would mean he might get stuck with a harder question.

  “I’d say it’s a tie between telling the woman who raised me that she isn’t my mother...and being so utterly pathetic that I failed to kill myself not once but twice.” Though also true, Loken mostly said the last part for the shock value. Nolan thought he wanted the truth, but like so many others he’d soon find he didn’t have the stomach for it.