“Tell you the truth?”
“Yes. What's really holding you back? At the Imperial Castle, you seemed very interested. But then we get here, and you've suddenly had a change of heart.”
Rath clenched his jaw and looked away.
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “It's because I'm human, isn't it? You don't want all your buddies to know you'd lower yourself enough to fuck a human.”
He winced.
“You fucking racist.” I shook my head, so very disappointed in him. Yes, I had only known Rath for a day, but what he had shown me of himself had given me high expectations.
Rath jerked his head back toward me. “I'm not a racist. If I were a racist, I wouldn't even be attracted to you.”
“I don't think attraction is something anyone can control. But if you're not racist, then what exactly about my humanity do you not like?”
“Let it be, Ember.”
“No.” I stood up. “Tell me. I want to know. If it isn't some Varraen elitism, then what? Do I smell bad? Is there a human stench I don't know about? Huh? What?” I pushed his chest. “Go on, tell me the truth. Say it!”
“You're mortal!” Rath snarled.
I dropped back onto the bed, processing that quickly despite my inebriation. Mortal. And he was immortal. I would die one day while he would live forever. Not a good combination for a relationship. At least, not for a meaningful, lasting relationship.
“Oh,” was all I managed to say.
“Fuck,” he muttered and shook his head. “I'm sorry, Ember. I shouldn't have said that.”
“No, it's fine. It's the truth, and it's not so terrible.” I grimaced. “I mean, I'm not looking forward to dying, but I get it. You're immortal. I'm not. It's actually kind of sweet that you like me enough to think you could love me someday, that my death might hurt you. Or even watching me grow old. I'll take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Rath whispered, his stare intense. “And maybe you're right about the racism thing, though I've never thought of it as such. I've never considered a human for a lover. I've just never been attracted to one, but maybe that's because I've never allowed myself to be. I'm sorry for that, and I'll try to be better. But I can't risk . . .” He waved a hand at me. “This.”
I nodded.
“I hope you'll still honor me with your friendship, Spark.”
“Sure. But maybe don't call me that anymore.”
“Of course,” he murmured. Then, “Goodnight, Ember.”
“Goodnight, Rath.”
He left, and I fell backward onto the bed to stare up at the damask canopy. I'd never had my hopes dashed so quickly before. And in such a nice way. But I was glad I had spoken up. If I hadn't, I would have gone on wondering what was between us and why Rath never acted upon it. I would have pined. I would have become bitter.
Now, I could move on.
Yep. Right after a good cry.
Chapter Ten
The next morning, I woke up in my new bed, in my new room, and in my new, well, if not home, residence. I hoped it would become a home, that the Wraith Lords might become like brothers to me.
A pounding came at my door. “Get up, kid!” a jovial voice called through the wood. “Time to break your fast.”
I stumbled out of bed, dressed only in my tunic, but it was long enough to cover the important bits, so I opened the door.
Nex was standing outside with a stack of clothes in his hands. He shoved the clothes at me and said, “Rath asked me to give you these. He's meeting with the mages, but he'll join us in the dining hall afterward.”
“Thanks.” I poked my head out into the corridor. “Uh. Where's the outhouse? Is it in the courtyard?”
