“Perhaps. But if it means anything, I understand what it feels like to be let down by people you thought were friends. People you trusted to have your back.”
“They still have my back,” I say, though my tone isn’t convincing, even to me.
“Then where are they now?”
I’m too tired to concoct a lie that will convince him, so I stick with the truth. “I can’t tell you that. Just know that I didn’t kill them.”
“That’s comforting. Are you going to killmein my sleep, Devilry?”
I purse my lips as if pondering my options. “Not unless you do something worthy of death.”
He scratches his head, a feigned look of concern on his face. “You might need to make me a list of things you consider worthy of death.”
“Well…” I make a show of thinking it over. “Calling me rude names, obviously. Pissing in places where you shouldn’t. Flatulence, of course, especially in confined spaces. Making suggestive jokes or sounds. Being overly inquisitive.”
“All those things will earn me a death sentence, eh?” He gives me a slow grin.
“Oh yes. Instant death.”
“You know, Devilry, I do believe you have a sense of humor.”
“Rumors and lies.” I hide a smirk by taking another swallow of wine.
“At the risk of committing a mortal sin, I have a proposal to make.”
“Tread carefully, Ravager.”
“My proposal is this. Since we both need sleep, yet you don’t appear to feel safe with me, perhaps we should get to know each other better before we rest.”
I frown, unsure if he means it in a sexual way. “No.”
“It couldn’t hurt, though.” He sets down his cup and moves to sit on the opposite side of the pantry so he can face me. “You seemed fairly full of questions earlier. I’m ready to answer. Ask me anything.”
I tip my head back against the cupboard, savoring the warm haze of the wine. “Very well, let’s get to know each other. Professionally, not personally.”
“Deal,” he answers.
“First thing you ever stole?”
“A chicken.”
“A live one?”
“No, roasted. I was in the city park, and a couple of servants had laid out a fancy picnic lunch for their lord or lady. They were squabbling over something—the arrangement of the cushions on the picnic cloth, I think—and while their backs were turned, I plucked the roast chicken right off its platter, tucked it into my jacket like it was a newborn baby, and ran. I was skinny and fast. Cut through a nearby thicket and from there down an embankment. I sat under a footbridge and I ate that chicken down to the bones. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever tasted.”
“Roast chicken is the fucking best,” I say fervently.
“I’d love a good chicken leg right now. In fact I can only think of one thing I’d like to taste more.” His eyes are focused on my mouth at first; then his gaze darts much lower. “Well... two things.”
I flush and look away, pretending I didn’t catch his meaning. “I can beat that story. The first thing I ever stole was much riskier and more expensive than a roast chicken.”
“Deflection and distraction,” he murmurs, smiling. “Fine, I’ll bite. What did you steal?”
“A ring. It was so big and purple and sparkly, and I just…wantedit. I craved it worse than anything I’d ever desired in my whole life. I pretended to fall down in the street, right next to the lady who was wearing it, and when she helped me up, I slipped it right off her finger. I’d noticed it was loose, see. As she walked, she had to keep adjusting it with her thumb to get the big, sparkly stone to stay on top. I slid it right off and she didn’t catch me. I was gone before she realized it was missing.”
“How old were you?”
“Five.”
