Chapter 70

“I thought the mice had eaten your tongue,” I responded to Haydar, in English, after the first moment of stupefaction. I couldn’t disguise the mockery. “It is said that you have not spoken to anyone since they brought you to this cage.”

A deep, guttural, feline, gurgling growl floated in the air even above the soft sound of functional music. I gritted my teeth behind the serene grimace I was trying to keep for him, and the lion-man turned his upper half in my direction, resting both arms on the back of the chair with interest. The pale scars over his right eye were somewhat hidden by long strands of his ivory hair, which looked overgrown and unkempt. You couldn’t say he was smiling, but something in the curve of his parted lips and the direction of his many long, hard whiskers seemed to indicate that he was very pleased. His beastly face was certainly impressive, perfect; that had not changed at all.

Semi-animal form for five months, in addition to not having uttered a s