Brennur stays silent, which is answer enough.
Wick’s glare is chilling. “I trusted you to bring countless fae and Oreans to safe harbor, to sneak us into dangerous territory for our cause, and all the while you were nothing but a selfish fucking traitor.”
“I bow to whoever I need to so I can keep my head,” Brennur replies. “King, rebel leader, noble, doesn’t matter. Rolesand politics change all the time. I’m nearly a hundred and eighty years old. You think I’d still be alive if I’d been something as stupid asloyal? Bah!” He waves his hand, the chain around his ankle clinking with his movements. “Loyalty is a good way to get yourself killed.”
“Funny,” Wick grinds out, “consideringdisloyaltyis going to be the thing that actually ends you.”
CHAPTER 41
AUREN TURLEY
Despite Wick’s threat, Brennur doesn’tlook affected whatsoever.
“You won’t kill me,” he replies evenly. “You think someone hasn’t threatened that before? I know my worth. My magic is rare—very rare. I’m one of the only fae who can still control ring magic. I’m far too valuable.”
His words echo in my ears and make my teeth snap together as if I could gnash him between them.
“Are you?” Wick challenges. “Because you still refuse to tell us where that fairy ring took the king.”
Brennur looks between us. “I’ll tell you. For a price.”
“How about your life?” Wick growls.
He rolls his eyes. “As I said, you won’t kill me. So it will take more than that.”
Instantly, I open my palm and let chunks of gold fall onto the table, startling him. They land with metallic clinks, each and every one tracked by his seedy eyes.
“Alright, what’s your price?” I question lightly. “Gold? Enough wealth that you can become a king in your own right? Enough riches to own all of Annwyn?” I clasp my hand around one of the larger gold nuggets and hold it out to him.
He reaches forward and takes it from my grasp, turning it around in the lantern light, and eyeing every black vein. I let more gold nuggets form, some tipping off the table and falling onto the ground. Then I push the pile toward him like he’s just won the winning hand in a card game.
“There,” I say as his greedy eyes take it in. “Now, where did your fairy ring take the king?”
Brennur strokes his beard as he regards me for a long, silent moment. He’s not going to answer. He knows gold does him no good if he’s stuck in this room. But that’s fine.
I have other questions for him.
I glance down at the wrinkled leather vest he’s wearing. Open at the front, a muddy brown color.
“Do you tan your own leather?”
Brennur frowns in confusion at my change in subject. “What?”
I jerk my chin. “Your vest. You were wearing one before too. I’m just wondering if you tan your leather yourself.”
“Yes, I tan my own leather,” he answers with a scoffed impatience. “What of it?”
My fingers twist around a nugget of gold as I spin it on the table. “You use oak bark, is that right?”
The question is simple. My intent behind it is not.
And even though I keep my face expressionless, my tone easy, I’m coiled so tight I could spring at any moment because I recall what happened when he took me through the fairy ring, just before Una stole my memories.
I remember…remembering.
Brennur hasn’t caught onto the rage that’s simmering beneath my skin, because he looks impatiently to Wick. “What is this about?”
I lean forward slowly, and I can feel the flame from the lantern casting off against my face as I draw his gaze back to me.“It’s the scent. The taste,” I say, my tone gone dark. “It leaves an impression when someone shoves a piece of polishing cloth into your mouth to shut you up as you’re being kidnapped. That oak bark was very distinct, and youstill reek of it.”
