“The pears?”
“Delicious. There was syrup on them, I think.”
“The tea?”
“It tasted like berries and there was real honey in it, not that watered-down?—”
I stopped.
He nodded with an indulgent smile, like he was actually interested in my answer. Which was insane. He had a realm to run. Warriors to command. But he hadn’t asked because he cared about the answers. He was keeping me focused on mundane things.
The tightness in my throat had eased. This was kindness. Twisted and backwards, but kindness nonetheless. I sat there, trying not to notice how safe he made me feel.
“Better?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good.”
A shaft of sunlight broke from the clouds, bathing us in warmth. I breathed in deeply, my hand sliding from my lap to the bench.
A sting bit my fingers.
I gasped and jerked back, wringing my hand. A rune on the bench emitted a faint spark.
Kairos straightened.
“Accident,” I said through gritted teeth.
His brow furrowed as he palmed the rune, caressing the carved lines. He frowned, his gaze flicking to me. “Does that always happen?”
I kept my lips shut.
He shifted closer. “How did you do it?”
I rubbed my arm. “Do what?”
“You touched my rune, and it fell apart.” Kairos pushed the hair out of his face. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
I flexed my fingers, remembering how it had torn me open. “The rune I broke on your gauntlet felt different, like it was hurting you.”
“Yes,” he said in a black voice. “Every day for a hundred years.”
For a moment, he stared at the garden with that terrible stillness. Then his shoulders dropped slightly.
“We were at war, and I wanted peace, but Skaldir had no interest in land. They wanted a symbol of their victory. So I let them take me.”
“You offered yourself for peace?”
He nodded.
“Why didn’t anyone free you?”
His jaw ticked. “Some tried. They died for it.”
“Was that rune part of the treaty?”
“It was a faerie deal. As long as I was chained, King Vaeron and his armies couldn’t set foot across our borders.”
