“Life isn’t worth living—especially an immortal one—if I’m stuck in this hideous human body,” he says with a sneer. “Not even my magic will matter to me if I can’t use it to shift forms.”
Hideous human body. Could he truly be so vain? I assess the king and his wild hair, his unruly beard, trying to find the youthful male buried underneath. While he claims to have begun aging when his sentence began, it’s only his unkempt appearance that makes him look that way. And even though I wouldn’t call him handsome by any means, he certainly isn’t hideous. On the outside, that is. His personality leaves much to be desired. “You could be…decent looking if you tried, you know. Perhaps you could even come to like yourself the way you are.”
He tilts his head back as if I’m spouting nonsense. “Impossible. Do you see me? I’m…disgusting. Repulsive.” His face twists in disgust. “Human.”
“Wait…you think you’re hideous because you look…human?”
“Of course.”
I almost burst out laughing. What I first deemed vanity is more a matter of prejudice. “Do you find all humans to be as hideous as you assume yourself to be? If so, you must think I am ugly as well.”
His gaze roves my body from head to toe. “Why wouldn’t I?”
A blush of heat rises up my neck. “I’m almost of a mind to be offended.”
“Waste no emotion on me, human. I’ll waste none on you, I can tell you that much.”
I purse my lips and force my indignation to cool. Why should I care what he thinks of me, anyway? Men finding me attractive has never served me well before. “Fine then. Now, what is this second option to break your curse? The one that must have something to do with a human sacrifice?”
“The second way to break the curse is for a human to hold me in such high esteem that they are willing to sacrifice that which they treasure most, breaking the curse altogether.”
I roll the words over in my mind, studying them from different angles. This time, it’s impossible to stifle my laughter. “And you think the tricks you’ve been playing on me are supposed to work?” I throw my head back, tears pooling at the corners of my eyes. “You can’t trick someone into holding you in the highest esteem, nor can you expect a feigned rescue after a contrived attack to stir that kind of sacrifice-inducing gratitude you’re after.”
He frowns, shoulders rigid as color burns in his cheeks. “Oh, and how would you go about it?”
“Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, actually befriending a human to gain their esteem?”
“Would that work?” His tone is skeptical, but there’s a note of hope in it too. “Even if I were to befriend a human, as you say, would such a friendship engender someone to make such a sacrifice for me? Wouldyoudo as much for your dearest friend?”
The question quickly sobers me. While I no longer count anyone as a close friend these days, I can still imagine facing the choice. For someone I loved, would I sacrifice that which I treasure most? I consider my great treasures, drawing a blank. Then it comes to me. My greatest treasure is that which I do not have—freedom, independence, a life of my own. There’s no one I’d be willing to sacrifice that for, no matter how dire their circumstance. For where would such a sacrifice leave me? If I am to assume the opposite would then manifest, I’d be…
Trapped. Captive. Controlled.
The thought alone drains the blood from my face.
“I suppose you’re right,” I admit. “Not even friendship would make such a sacrifice easy. You need something stronger.”
He nods. “Which is why I invoke an element of fear, something to set one’s mind at unease, make one more apt toward impulsive decisions beneath the weight of their gratitude.”
“But that isn’t working either,” I say. “You need something else. Something that makes someone stupider than fear, but more invested than friendship.”
“Well, if you have any bright ideas,” he says, voice heavy with sarcasm, “I’m all ears.”
I freeze as an epiphany strikes me.
I tally up everything he’s told me. His assets. His liabilities. I see his needs, his hurdles, his struggles.
And right there in the middle is an opportunity. Not just for him. Forme.
I turn away, a plan forming in my mind. I go over it again and again, checking it for weaknesses. Then finally, I say, “I have an idea.”
His voice comes out heavy with suspicion. “About what?”
I turn to face him, a smile tugging my lips. “We’re going to make a bargain.”
12
When we moved to Faerwyvae, I may not have been given a complete education regarding the fae, but I was told the same rule by pretty much every human who welcomed us to Vernon: never bargain with the fae.
