Praetorian Rising, стр. 31
Camille stood in a numb haze as she waited for Vesyon to explain, but he remained silent. "What do you mean 'we don't need to worry?'" she said as slowly as possible. "We have been running from those things for a full sun cycle. Killing one Chimera doesn't make me feel any safer!"
"We weren't running from them, as I told you before. We were leading the Chimera away from Sierra Village. And as for the rest," he said with a heavy grunt. "They've been handled."
A subtle buzzing began inside her head, and Camille felt almost dizzy from the flood of irritation pouring into her system. This time she recognized the wave of warmth shifting through her body and understood what it meant. Her face grew hot, and she knew without a doubt that she appeared as Theo had: solid black eyes radiating with pure rage.
She most definitely was a Praetorian.
"You have to understand," Vesyon said without looking at her, "I needed you out of Sierra Village. There was no safety in keeping you there any longer. If the Chimera attack hadn't occurred, I would've requested you leave on different orders. You might be angry at me for not explaining to you what you are, or that we could've defeated those beasts on our own. The truth is, you still protect those people by not being in that village. I hope you can understand and trust that I know what's best for you, as well as them."
The last year of her life flashed in front of her eyes with a stark and unavoidable truth. She could run faster than anyone in her village, hunt better than men who'd been hunting their entire lives, her body could heal in a matter of hours, and now—glancing back at the Chimera carcass—she could battle like the best of them. Vesyon hadn't told her the truth because she would have stayed in Sierra Village. She never would've left Lunci behind if she'd known how capable she was of protecting him.
"I think she's starting to come around," Theo said with gentle ease, shifting an inch or two further away from Camille, leaving Vesyon as an easier target to reach when she felt inclined to strangle one of them. "It's not that bad, Cam. Us Praetorians have a great life once you get used to the blatant disgust the High King harbors for us, the way we must slink in the shadows amongst most of upper-level society, and how we can drink gallons of ale without feeling a damn thing! It's quite magnificent."
"Ignore him," Vesyon said, slashing his dagger against a flint stone and sending sparks into the kindling. "I didn't tell you what you are because if you knew, you'd never have left that boy’s side."
She wanted to hit Vesyondirectly across his bearded jaw. "You lied to me! I should be protecting them right now!"
"I did what was necessary," Vesyon countered, finally looking at her directly. His irises flashed, a myriad of steel-grey stone and frigid ice, emotionless and unapologetic.
A stinging wetness gathered at the corners of Camille's eyes, but she blinked it away. "They were all I had," she said shakily, her anger crumbling into crippling grief.
"No, they weren't," Vesyon said simply. "Peter and Lunci are safe now; that's all that matters."
"We don't know that Lunci is safe! He could be dead!" Camille snapped.
"You will understand my reasons in time, Camille."
Camille fisted her hands and stalked around the two men, avoiding the patches of mud as she searched for a place to sit. "How many Chimera did you kill?"
Vesyon didn't even hesitate in answering. "Twenty-six."
It didn't surprise her. They hadn't been running because Vesyon was unable to handle the beasts alone.
"So, I am a Praetorian?" she confirmed, rolling the syllables around and trying to make sense of their meaning.
He waited an achingly long thirty seconds, allowing the fire to grow, before facing her. "Yes, you are. As am I," Vesyon said, reaching into the neck of his shirt pulling out a silver medallion with a single black stone inlaid in the center of the interweaving metal branches and roots—one just like Camille's.
"You hardly look old enough," Camille spat.
He gifted her with a small smirk before shaking his head. "No, you're right about that. I don't look old enough."
His offhanded response piqued her interest, and Camille scrutinized Vesyon's face and body with a more critical eye.
"Trying to assess my actual age?" Vesyon asked.
"No!" Camille shot back, though her eyes kept roving over his features. She was unable to see how he could possibly be any older than he looked, and it was then that she heard Betty Anne's voice lingering in the back of her thoughts: They never grow old—from the day they turn, their bodies are frozen in time. They can neither age, nor be injured without intensely great effort.
"It can't be true," she whispered. "I can't possibly be older than eighteen."
"But you are. Your flawless complexion, however, will remain forever young," Theo said with a saucy wink.
She ignored him and continued to stare at Vesyon, who was now regarding her with equal fervor.
"Twenty-five," Camille said in quick succession.
Vesyon silently shook his head.
"Thirty?"
Another silent shake.
"I can't possibly be forty," Camille said.
"Forty-six, to be exact," Vesyon said coolly, continuing to stoke the flames.
Camille studied her hands—the smooth, unmarked look of them. She had no visible scars running the lengths of her arms, legs, or hands; even the extremely painful whipping at the hands of Grenswald hadn't permanently marred her perfect skin. Theo was right; she was the embodiment of youth, forever captured in the body of an eighteen-year-old woman.
"You aren't alone, sweetheart. I'm one year older than you are. Vesyon is the grandpa," Theo said nonchalantly, moving even further away from where Camille stood.
"You need grandchildren to be a grandpa," Vesyon said in Theo's direction, his eyes never leaving Camille's. "I'm sixty-four."
Camille's jaw