“My arrow,” she said tightly, her fingers flexing on the table where her palms were pressed flat to the surface. Ashes fluttered around her fingertips.
“You seem very concerned about a single arrow,” he went on casually, adding scrambled eggs and toast with marmalade to his plate. “Would you like some?” he added, holding out the tray of toast to her across the table.
“No. What I would like is my arrow,” she snapped. “And I’m concerned about it because it’s mine.”
Cethin clicked his tongue as he stood and reached across the table. Moving the muffin to the side, he replaced it with toast before adding some bacon and eggs as well. “You have to eat. Or does your magic refill in some other way?”
“It refills by stabbing people,” she shot back.
He smirked, settling back into his chair. “Your reserves must be full after last night then.”
Those amber eyes narrowed even more as she pointedly shoved her plate away.
Stabbing a few potatoes with his fork, he didn’t react. Instead, he said, “We have some negotiating to do, tiny fiend.”
“I’m not negotiating anything.”
“Then I’m not returning your arrow.”
Fury sparked, her warm skin seeming to darken even more with it. “What is it, exactly, that you want from me?”
He took his time with his bite, slowly sliding the fork from his lips as he made a show of debating his next words. “Your name to start.”
“And if I share my name, you will return my arrow?”
“No.”
“Is that your favorite word?”
He flashed a feral grin. “No.”
She scoffed, sitting back in her seat and crossing her arms.
“I’ll start,” he said. “My name is Cethin.”
“You’re the king,” she all but drawled. “Everyone knows who you are.”
“Did you know when you stabbed me?”
“If I had, I would have aimed for somewhere far more painful than your arm,” she replied with faux sweetness.
He hummed in response, scooping up some eggs. “I’m still confused as to what I did to deserve a stabbing.”
“I’m still confused as to why I don’t have my arrow back.”
Continuing as if she hadn’t spoken, he added, “All I did was save your face from meeting the ground.”
“Save my…” She trailed off, as if perplexed by his wording, before her resolve snapped back into place. “I wouldn’t have nearly fallen if you hadn’t run into me.”
“Something I tried to rectify by saving you.”
“You are what I need saving from,” she muttered under her breath.
He didn’t know why, but her words rubbed him the wrong way. The darkness in his soul writhed in his chest, and he straightened with indignation. “I would never hurt you,” he said, his voice low.
“Merely hold me hostage?”
“That’s not what I’m doing.” When she stared back at him in silence, he sighed, pushing his plate aside. “I need your help.”
