“Why isn’t it?”
“Because that moon fae from Nævhail Glen was targeted as a witch. Any female who holds rare or unusual magick is deemed a witch by some imbecile in charge.”
Her defiance and strength were back. I hummed in approval.
“But beast fae have no magick. So any female with magick is a witch in my eyes.”
She stared at me then arched a brow. “Are you teasing me?”
“Yes.”
She huffed and rolled to her back, a small smile curling her pretty mouth.
“You’re an idiot.”
I couldn’t stop from laughing. “Please tell me why.”
“If that were the truth, then Lorelyn, your seer, would be considered a witch.”
“Who says we don’t consider her one? My question,” I stopped her before she could snap at me again, keeping my gaze on the glittering stars, “is why you believe the word witch, or witchcraft, is something terrible. Perhaps, we revere it.”
She was quiet, but she shifted her body. She was staring at me again, likely wondering if I was teasing her again or telling the truth.
“Do you?” she asked softly.
Rolling to my side to face her, I shifted up onto my elbow and forearm. “Do I what?”
“Do you revere magick?” She leaned up on her elbow, mirroring me. The line of her delicate neck was utterly beguiling, drawing my gaze.
“Of course I do.”
She went silent again.
“Does that surprise you?” I asked.
“Yes. But I’m glad to hear it. I thought it would make you sad.”
“Because I have none?” I smirked. “I have never had, it so there is no loss to feel when it comes to magick. I am content living my life without what the other fae have.”
She pushed up, sitting straight, her face closer to mine, a serious expression tightening her face. “You do have magick though, Redvyr. It may not be the same kind that I have or even the other dark fae. But I see it, in the way you lead your people, the way you treat them, protect them. And in the way you treat strangers.”
“I was not kind to you,” I reminded her, my heart galloping faster at her praise.
“You were, actually. You could’ve left me in the snow and moved on. But you killed that poor deer and tried to feed me.” She laughed, and my heart falling further into the wonder that was Jessamine.
“All my efforts were for nothing.”
“Not for nothing.” She reached over and put her hand on mine which rested on the edge of my furs. “You have been far kinder to me than,” her voice broke, and she shook it off with another light laugh, “than my own family. Than most nobility I’ve known, who were born and bred to be civil and compassionate. You’ve shown more care for me than anyone I’ve ever met.”
Gods in the heavens and all of the hells, save me from this torment.
She removed her hand and laid back down, tucking herself under the furs again. I couldn’t respond to her little speech. Either she was still delirious from her dream, maybe even half-crazed because all she’d eaten was cheese and bread and jam since I found her, or…
Or she was telling the truth, and that is what she sincerely thought of me.
“You best get some sleep,” I commanded gruffly, needing to be rid of all these damned, soft feelings. “We have one more day of travel to Ghasta Vale. Then we’ll be hosting a visit from King Goll.”
“What?” she nearly shrieked.
