“Then you go to bed with your questions unanswered. The choice is yours.”
She stands there, tension in every line of her body. She wants to refuse. She doesn’t trust me. It’s clear in her expression. So I wait to see if that stubborn pride of hers will stop her from getting what she wants.
She moves to the chair across from me and sits, then lifts her chin.
“Fine. A truth for a truth.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
ALLERIA
A truth for a truth.
When I was a child, my nursemaid used to tell me stories about the fae. How they’d trick humans into bargains that seemed fair on the surface, but always cost more than expected. How they couldn’t lie, but could twist words until the truth wasn’t how it sounded. How a clever princess once bargained with a fae lord and lost her voice, her shadow, or her firstborn child—depending on which version you heard.
Ilovedthose stories. I’d beg for them at bedtime, pull the covers up to my chin, and shiver at the delicious danger of it all. The fae in those tales were beautiful and terrible, with honeyed words and cruel smiles.
Then I got older, and learned that fae were nothing but animals. Dangerous ones, yes. Magical ones that needed to be controlled, but animals all the same. The stories were just stories, told to amuse and delight. The fae in the real world don’t bargain or seduce. They run when you hunt them, and die when you catch them.
But now I’m the captive of a fae who speaks and schemes,and embodies all the things from the stories. And I’m beginning to think that my nursemaid knew more than anyone gave her credit for.
Cairn is sitting across from me, one ankle crossed over his knee, the goblet of wine held loosely in his fingers. The black marks trace up his throat and disappear beneath his collar. He looks perfectly relaxed. Like he has all night to pick me apart.
“Ask your first question.” His voice is low.
I think for a second. “Why did you drink my blood?”
He reaches for the wine bottle and refills his glass. “Breaking the collar only required contact. Drinking it created a connection.” He takes a slow sip. “One that allows me to see through your eyes.”
I guessed this. But hearing him confirm it so casually, that he’s been inside my head, seeing what I see. And I had no way of stopping it from happening …
He sets his glass down and leans back in his chair. His eyes travel over my face.
“My turn. “Did you like it?”
“Like what?”
“When I drank your blood.” His voice drops lower, turns softer. He’s watching my face with focused, predatory attention. “When I held your palm to my mouth and swallowed. Did you like it?”
“I …” I lick my lips. “I didn’t want to. My body reacted, but I was terrified. Confused. I shouldn’t have felt anything except violation. I couldn’t control it.” The words keep coming, spilling from me in a stream I can’t stop. “My body betrayed me. I still don’t understand why I?—”
“So … yes, then.”
“Yes.” I hate hearing the word come out of my mouth. “But I didn’t want?—”
“You answered.” His voice cuts through my protest. “Ask your next question.”
“How can you speak in my mind?”
“The blood bond I created makes a channel.” He watches me over the rim of his glass. “Strong emotion opens it wider.”
Strong emotion. I think about the times I’ve felt him slip into my thoughts, when terror and fury overwhelmed me. He felt that?
“Do you fear me?” The question is silky.
The bargain’s magic pulls at me, dragging the answer out of me whether I want to give it or not.
“Yes. But it’s different now than it was at first. At the Dell, it was pure terror. I was certain I was going to die.” No matter how I try to stop myself from speaking, my mouth keeps moving. “I thought you would kill me. Now I’m still afraid of what you could do. Your strength and anger. The violence I’ve seen. But it’s mixed up with other things. I don’t know when it changed. I don’t know when you stopped being just a monster, and became?—”
