“What is going on?” he roars.
I press my cheek to his chest to dampen the sound, but his heartbeat is somehow even louder. Strong like thunder in the center of a storm.
“Did you know the mortal has jokes?” Brin wipes at his eyes, a laugh still bubbling from him.
“What?” Vander holds me tightly.
“She thinks I eat—” He chuckles. “—mortal children. Did you know that?”
Vander relaxes a hair, though his grip on me is still certain. “Yes, I’d been meaning to address that.”
“Couldn’t find the time?” Brin grins, his canines longer than they should be.
“You can put me down.” I push against Vander’s chest.
“I’m aware.” He doesn’t move, but he meets my gaze. “The wolven don’t cross into the mortal realm. They don’t eat children or steal babies?—”
Brin guffaws again. “Steal babies?” He rolls his eyes. “What would I do with a mewling brat? Hurl it at my enemies? Watch it puke on one of the cursed vampire princes? Maybe I could use it as a?—”
“They hunt like all predators.” Vander speaks in an even tone while shooting the wolven a scathing look. “In fact, just like mortals do. No children, no babies. They don’t harm the innocent, though, of course, not all wolven are the same. There are bad ones among them, just as there are bad ones among mortals.”
“Concerning meals, I actually prefer chicken from Maisie’s over by Churlytown.” Brin shrugs. “I grew tired of hunting my own food ages ago. Besides, once you have chicken, you quickly realize that everything else tastes like chicken. I call it the poultry paradox. One day I’ll write a book on it.”
Vander gives him a withering look. “As I’ve said, you have nothing to fear from this wolven.”
Brin stands and closes his book. “While this has been fun, I’m afraid you’re curtailing my reading. I’ll show myself to my room and get ready for dinner.” He winks at Vander as he passes. “Keep that mortal on a leash. I’d hate for her to try to take advantage of me. She was looking at me with open lust only moments ago.”
“I was not!” I yelp.
Brin howls with laughter again as he disappears into the hallway.
Vander goes tense again, his jaw tight.
“He’s lying.” My cheeks heat, sheepishness creeping through me—and not just because Brin accused me of being interested in him. Could all those tales from my childhood have been lies? Why would mortals make up such awful things? It’s hard to believe, even harder to understand.
Vander sits, keeping me in his lap and his arms.
“Pet, you can’t go around the keep accusing my friends and family of atrocities, all right?”
My mouth drops open. “I’m not!”
“You just did.”
“No! I thought … I mean—look, we’re told?—”
“What you’re told, and what the truth are, are two entirely different things.” His steady green gaze makes my cheeks feel like an inferno. “I realize that isn’t entirely your fault. But, all the same, there are plenty of creatures in Oblivion that wouldn’t simply laugh off that sort of insult. You must be careful.”
“I thought you said I was safe here.”
“You are.” He lets out a longsuffering sigh. “I should’ve mentioned this quite a bit sooner but?—”
“But I freaked out about being held captive by the DragonKin and then almost killed myself?—”
He groans and winces.
“And got bitten by a giant spider.” I give up and rest my head against his chest. “That you saved me from, even though you didn’t have to.”
We fall silent, the pounding of his heart a steady rhythm against my cheek. From this one misstep, I’m beginning to realize I’ve made plenty of them. I’ve been foolish, the one thing I swore I’d never be. I’d always thought I was clever, especially when the prioresses scolded me for my wily nature. But as it turns out, I’ve been nothing but dense since Vander took me from that battlement.
