Free The Forest of Lost Souls by Anne Plichota

this?” muttered Oksa, frowning.
    “Treachery is at the heart of the activity, Young Gracious,” continued the Lunatrix, watched fearfully by his mate. “Treachery works at the heart of the Runaways. Interior and exterior perform the surrounding. The need for warning is severe: the Felons, like friends, have no obligation to coincide with our belief.”
    “You know, Lunatrix, sometimes I find it really hard to follow what you’re saying,” remarked Oksa, scratching her head sceptically.
    “But it’s crystal clear!” said a loud voice behind her, making her jump.
    She turned round to see Tugdual leaning against the living-room door jamb. A lock of black hair was hiding part of his face but even though he had his head down, Oksa could see that his blue eyes were gazing intently at her. Tugdual brushed his hair away from his thin, handsome face and gave a strange half-smile, as kind as it was unsettling. Withouttaking his eyes off her, he walked over and Oksa stiffened on the sofa. As for the Lunatrixes, they stood up with as much tact and discretion as they could muster and went over to curl up in the corner of the hearth.
    “What the Lunatrix means is that friends and enemies are not always who you think they are,” explained Tugdual, flopping down in an armchair opposite Oksa.
    Unlike her, he looked completely relaxed. He swung a leg over the armrest and began running his pierced tongue over his teeth with an irritating grating noise. Oksa sighed, annoyed at feeling so confused every time she was in his company. He was so unreadable. She tried to think of something to say, but the words got muddled in her head.
    “So you’ve gone back to wearing your piercings, have you?” was all she managed, cursing herself for such a lame comment.
    Tugdual’s eyes darkened briefly in surprise, then brightened again, reverting to that startling icy blue which—she suddenly realized—she found so attractive. She swallowed and gnawed at her lower lip, shocked by this discovery.
    “Oh! You know,” replied Tugdual, “a leopard never changes its spots…”
    His voice was serious, melancholy and cold as the winter wind. Tugdual aroused such conflicting feelings in her: his catlike nature and strong instincts made her feel safe, but he had another side which she found scary, almost intimidating. The only thing she was sure of was that he made her heart race whenever he was near, and that she’d never felt so confused. Oksa studied him: dressed in black from head to toe, eyebrows, ears and nose pierced with countless tiny precious stones, Tugdual looked and acted the same as when she’d first met him on the evening she’d learnt the secret of the Runaways. The only difference now was that he was watching her much more searchingly than he had before. “Oksa-san, get a grip on yourself!” she rebuked herself. She folded her legs beneath her in a bid to conceal her embarrassment.
    “The most important thing is to know who you are and to accept it,” he continued.
    “So who are you?” asked Oksa immediately, amazed at her own daring.
    Tugdual shot her a half-surprised, half-amused glance, which made her feel as if her face was on fire. He thought for a few seconds before answering in a voice which was as throaty as that of his striking grandmother , Brune:
    “Who am I? Do you want the official or unofficial version?”
    “I want the real version,” answered Oksa boldly. “I want to know who the real Tugdual is.”
    “You’re very inquisitive, Lil’ Gracious! I’m not sure you’re ready for the truth…”
    “You think I’m such a baby!” retorted Oksa angrily, clenching her fists. “It’s so…
humiliating
!” Tugdual looked at her in astonishment, his lips twitching, as if about to burst out laughing. Which unexpectedly infuriated Oksa.
    “You really get on my nerves,” she muttered furiously, looking away so as not to see his blue eyes burning into her.
    “You really want to know then?” asked Tugdual,