“You’re back again, I see.”
“For you to see my back again, I would have to be walking the other way.”
Velka’s eyes rolled, but she smiled. The man approaching her gave a over-acted bow, grinning at her as he straightened up.
“Velka.”
“Stranger.”
She walked on without a pause, allowing him to fall in step beside her, his eyes taking in the gardens around them, hers fixed forward.
“I wondered when you would reappear.”
“From the tone of your voice,” he replied, “I would guess that you weren’t looking forward to it? Baby cousin, what a dreadful disappointment! I was looking forward to seeing you again, you know. It’s like looking in a mirror; but not as pleasant.”
Velka bit back a smile. “I am not even convinced you are my cousin.”
He looked toward her then, eyes twinkling. “Have you ever spoken to a Herdazian?”
“A what?”
“You’d remember it if you did.”
“You are needlessly obtuse.”
“I am that. That mostly, if I’m honest.”
That he was her cousin was believable, up to a certain point; he did look a little like her, and he could have been from her father’s side of the family. Velka had never really had any contact with them. Perhaps this was why. But with Berith dead, it was impossible to verify this man’s claims. Though - so far - he had never appeared to her disadvantage. Really, he only seemed to visit her, as he said, when something novel-worthy was happening. She had not seen him in years; but somehow, she had known he would return.
“If you plan to stay on for any length of time, I would like to know your name.”
“I've abandoned my real name. But when next we meet, I'll think of a clever one for you to call me. Until then, Wit will suffice—or if you must, you may call me Hoid.”
