There was something deeply human she’d been yearning for in the lightness of that subject. It soothed the cracks in her soul; it didn’t fill them, but now she felt a little more solid. A little more grounded.
A little more like herself.
And he, a little more like himself—like the Estevan she knew.
“Your father,” she said with a stronger voice, “you mean the cardinal?”
Estevan nodded with a thin smile. “I am his bastard son, yes. Do not misunderstand; he never calls me like that himself. He is a kind man, much kinder than I am.” Resting his forearms on his knees, he looked down at his hands. “Has to be, to adopt a boy accused of being fey-touched by his own birth family. I was not as understanding as he when I was younger.”
“That’s … not a kind accusation,” she replied, “but not entirely inaccurate.”
Brows furrowed, Estevan lifted his head. “Listen. Cael and I might have grown apart over the years, but I do not tolerate anyone calling my brother—”
“No! I didn’t mean it that way!” Semras raised her hands in defence. “I mean that hehasfey blood. It was painfully obvious when I met him.”
The inquisitor blinked. “… It was true? I do not think Cael himself knows. How can you tell?”
Did Callum really not know? She doubted it. A fey and a human didn’t act nor think the same way. He must have noticed the difference in his nature, even if he knew nothing of his bloodline.
“There are signs,” she replied. “His are the amount of freckles and his way of thinking like a Seelie. But what really gave him away was when he touched the shackles and hissed at the cold iron.”
“Just that?” he asked, shrugging. “He is a redhead allergic to that specific alloy; that is all. It is not really damning evi—”
“Just stab him in the heart, then!” Semras huffed. “He’ll get better, and then you will know he is fey. Or check what else is out of the ordinary in his physical appearance—count the teeth or the fingers, just like the old folk used to say. I don’t know what else he has that betrays his fey blood. It doesn’t manifest in all of us the same way.” Fumbling with a strand of her white hair between her hands, she added, “Only one thing is always true: the stronger it is, the more we look … um, enhanced.”
Cocking his eyebrow, Estevan leaned closer. “Enhanced how?”
Semras looked away. “You are an inquisitor. You know all that already.”
“Indulge me.”
The witch rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Fine … It’s beauty, mostly. There’s a reason the Deprived call us the ‘Fair Folk.’”Clearing her throat, she let her gaze wander around the inquisitor’s room.
The sun had set, and the shadows of the windows’ ornamental grates no longer drew a cage over the floor. Her eyes lingered on the door that separated their rooms.
It looked just like that—a door. So ordinary, so simple and mundane, it was hard to believe she once stood on the other side, expecting her life to be taken at any moment.
It was hard to believe she was sitting in his room now, having a surreal conversation about the beauty of the Fey.
He was still waiting for her to continue, and she did so, cheeks slightly coloured by the embarrassing subject. “We—well, the Fair Folk—always look striking next to ordinary people. There are exceptions, but—”
“Oh. So you think he is ‘striking.’ Marvellous, one more woman he effortlessly charms. And they callmea rake.” Snorting, Estevan passed his fingers through his hair. “If my benediction is what you came here for, you have it. Good for him, good for you. Let’s move on.”
Semras narrowed her eyes. Was it her, or did Inquisitor Velten sound … miffed? “As I wassaying, there are exceptions.” The words escaped her lips before she could think better of it. “Like you.”
He stared back incredulously. “Ah. So you came here to insult me.”
“Don’t make me say it,” she hissed. “You know what I mean. You’re not fey nor witch, and yet, you are …” Her hand waved at him up and down.
A slow smirk spread across his lips. “… I am …?”
If he wanted to play this game, he’d be sorely disappointed. Semras plastered a sweet smile on for him. “A bastard. You are a bastard …” She let her silence hang.
He frowned but did not deny it. Good, she thought, at least he knew.
“… And?” he finally asked.
Her smile turned into a smirk—just like the one he liked so much to give her. “That’s it.”
