“That you’re a high shayd? No. That you lied to me?Yes.” I tried to think of a reason, a way to make this palatable. “Was it because you’d have to declare yourself to the Council? And then you wouldn’t be hidden from your parents?”
Our gazes connected, and I read his thoughts in an instant. This wasn’t the reason, but he was weighing if I’d believe him if he served it back; after all, I’d delivered an excuse on a silverplatter. I scooched backward on the bed until my spine touched the headrest, putting space between us. “Don’t lie to me,” I said, my voice soft and hard at once. “Why did you tell me you were a wild shayd?”
“I didn’t tell you.” He bowed his head, sounding abashed. “You assumed.”
“I assumed because of your feather markings and talons.” I swallowed. “Are those not…real?”
He grimaced. “I can hide them, as high shedim usually do, if that’s what you mean. But you’ve seen what I look like. So, no, it’s not real, but it’s no less real than if I fully looked like a human.”
I swallowed. “Why did you do it?”
He sat on the foot of the bed, tracing the embroidery on the duvet, blue thread stark against the white linen. He said nothing.
“You have to talk to me,” I said, frustrated. “My aunt says the treaty negotiations are coming up. Are you here because of them? Are you a spy? Please don’t tell me you pretended to be betrothed to me because of myaunt.” It would have been the most ironic outcome, if Daziel had been using me to get to her just like the government students had.
“No,” he said immediately. “It has nothing to do with her.”
“But it has to do with something?” When he returned to tracing the embroidery, new threadwork blooming under his touch, I pressed on. “You do have an agenda.”
“…Yes.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t tell you.” His face was so compelling, so familiar and real andminein a way I’d never thought it would be when I first saw it.
But he wasn’t mine, not really. And he wouldn’t tell me, no matter that he’d used me for months. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
He jerked his face up, looking shocked. “Of course I don’t think you’re an idiot.”
“Really?” I tried not to cry, trying to freeze my tears by sounding cold as ice. “I let you in so easily.”
“You’re a trusting person. Optimistic.”
I blinked up at the chandelier, hoping the light would burn away any wetness from my eyes. “Optimistic people are stupid.”
“You’re not stupid.”
“Ithink I’m stupid.” I swallowed, my throat tight and dry. “God, I’msostupid. Everyone told me I couldn’t trust you. You even told me not to be so trusting. And what did I do? I let you in. I let you stay.”
“Naomi—”
“Areyou a spy?” My stomach tightened, and I could feel my grip on my emotions slipping. “About the treaty, about anything?”
He hesitated. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why not?” My voice rose. “Because you don’t trust me? Even though you said you did. Why did you even say that? To get me to so stupidly trust you in return?” I slumped down, curling into a ball. I wanted to pull the duvet over me and block out the world.
“I do trust you. It’s—I—Naomi, Iknowyou. You would tell people.”
“Not if you asked me not to.”
“Are you sure?” His black eyes met mine. “Will you promise now not to repeat what I say?”
I hesitated. I trusted Daziel, but I was also practical, and blanket promises were dangerous.
He arched his brows. “See?”
“That’s not fair.”
