“A leprechaun who smells like you.”
“It wasn’t me, Sophia.”
“No.” I want to look away from him as I say it, but I force myself to hold his gaze. “But maybe it was someone in your family.”
He shakes his head, but I sense it’s not in denial but disappointment. “Why would he do this? He already has everything.”
“Why would he poison you?” My voice rises in volume. “Why would he say what he said to me? Why does he hate pixies so damn much?”
“Think about what you’re accusing him of. This is more than bigotry. This is murder. Murder of humans, inside and outside Devashire.”
“But he has a special pass from the US government, doesn’t he? He has to as the chairman of Lucky Enterprises. All those slot machines your company sells to US casinos and the Dragonfly merchandise… He has to meet with buyers. That can’t all take place in Devashire.”
“No,” Seven says through his teeth.
“He hates pixies.” I frown. “I don’t know why he used Yissevel or why he killed those two humans, but he is the most likely to have the means. He must be working with one of the elves or somehow have a mirror.”
As soon as I’ve tied off the bandage, he hands Kiko back to me, clambers to his feet and limps toward the exit. I put her away before hoisting the pack onto my shoulders and following after him.
“I’m not trying to upset you, Seven. I just think we have to consider the most obvious explanation for what just happened. Chance Delaney is our most likely suspect.”
“Shut up, Sophia.”
I balk, a weight forming in my chest at the harshness in his tone. I’m exhausted. I don’t have the energy to fight him on this or to carry the burden of the truth alone.
His eyes spark emerald when he turns back toward me. “I’m not saying you’re wrong.” His expression softens. “But please, for five minutes, just let me think.”
All righty then. I drop back a few feet. I won’t let Seven deny this, but I understand why the trauma he’s lived through might cause him to avoid the hard truth. I can’t be part of that denial. When we get back to Devashire, I’ll tell Godmother everything, whether or not Seven is on board with that plan. I don’t know why Chance Delaney committed these murders, and I don’t care. He’s going to finally pay—for this, for what he did to Seven, and for what he did to me. I will take him down with my own boot on his neck if I have to. I’d rather have Seven on board though, so I back off and remain silent.
The journey is thankfully uneventful, and we set up camp on the same plateau we did before. Once the tent is erected and the fire blazes between us, Seven finally looks at me and breaks the silence with four little words.
“I lied to you.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
The only sure thing about luck is that it willchange.— Wilson Mizner
Ilower the cup of tea I’m holding and glare at him. “You lied to me? About what?”
“The night my father poisoned me, he didn’t lock me in my room.”
My blood turns to ice at the admission. There’s something about the way he says it that unsettles me, like he’s sharing a dark secret, like he’s peeling back the curtain on a deep shame. I give him my full attention.
“So youwerefree to leave, but still didn’t find help or a way to tell me what happened?” I say the words without judgment. The thought will be hard to live with, but I can forgive him for it. He was just a kid, in a horrible situation. I think of him back then, barely older than Arden. The memory hurts, but I can move beyond it.
He rubs his palms together slowly. “What I mean is, my father didn’t hold me in my bedroom. He has… cells under his hunting cabin in the mountains outside Elderflame. He took me there when I was unconscious and locked me up. I’d never been there before. I didn’t know how depraved he was until then.”
The horror of the revelation makes my skin crawl. “Seven, are you saying that your father has actual prison cells under his hunting cabin where he locked you up?” I lower my voice although there is no one here to overhear us. “Was it like a sex dungeon or something?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know for sure what it is or why it’s there, but there was nothing pleasurable in that room.” He’s silent for a moment, staring down into his tea. “And I wasn’t alone.”
My hand trembles, and I almost spill my drink. “Seven…”
“There was a woman in the cell next to mine. I never saw her face, but she spoke to me through the wall. She comforted me.” He closes his eyes, and I can see the burden this secret has placed on him. Then it dawns on me, this conversation isn’t just about then. It’s about now.
“Oh my gods, Seven! Do you think he was keeping the woman prisoner there? Was she a pixie?”
A muscle in his jaw twitches, and he rubs it absently. He hasn’t shaved since we left Devashire, and I can hear his stubble grate against his fingers. Seven, the leprechaun who always looks fresh and acts smooth, suddenly appears old and worn. I’ve reached the great and powerful Oz and pulled back the curtain to find the heart of an emotionally exhausted boy.
