I shrugged, keeping my voice light despite the ribbon binding us together like a leash. “What can I say? I like long walks in dangerous arenas.”
His jaw flexed. “That’s not an answer.”
It was, just not the kind he wanted. I let my eyes linger on the ribbon between us.
Don’t look too smug. Don’t look too scared. Just... somewhere in the middle.
“Sorry to disappoint you, hunter.”
“You’d have to matter to me for that, witch.”
I smirked. Maybe I could push back a little. “Oh, you do care. You care about keeping us in line. About making us grovel. Confessing our sins.”
Something flickered in his eyes before he blinked it away. “Do you have sins, witch?”
“Not unless sarcasm counts.”
He stepped closer. Too close. Steel and storm clung to him, and my damn pulse tripped over itself. Great. Exactly what I needed. Heart palpitations.
“What I want to know,” his voice dropped low, “is why a Rune Weaver from the Chancellery signed her own death warrant. Even if you last through the Mortalis, you won’t last the hunt.”
“I’m just full of surprises. That, or I’m foolish. Could go either way, honestly.”
“You’re reckless. Suicidal, even. But not a fool. My father doesn’t keep fools around.”
I arched my brow. “Flattery from the infamous Ripper? Careful. I might faint from all the kindness.”
“You should be terrified.”
Finally, I met his eyes. “Of you?”
“Of what comes after. Everyone runs from me eventually.”
I tilted my head, let my lips curl as I walked a careful edge. “Must be exhausting. All that running, and nothing left at the end but corpses.”
“Better corpses than cowards.”
A chill tightened in my chest, but I forced the smirk to stay put.Don’t give him the satisfaction.
“Well, lucky for you, I’m neither. Which means you can keep your curiosity on a leash until the Mortalis is over. I’ve got better things to do than feed your appetite for riddles. Like making sure I’m not the next creepy, silver mark on your arm to be bragged about.”
His gray eyes narrowed. “You think you’ll last more than a day?”
I lifted my chin. “I think I’ll last as long as I need to.”
Behind us, Wither whimpered, voice thin with fear as he broke our argument. “We’re going to die.”
“Not all of us,” I said, still staring Wickett down.
“That’s helpful,” Wickett muttered.
I smiled sweetly. “Would you prefer a bedtime story? Courage, friendship, and all that? I can make it sound real pretty if it’ll help you sleep, hunter.”
His mouth twitched. Not quite amusement. Something darker. “I don’t sleep.”
“Explains those atrocious bags under your eyes.” My tone was airy, but inside I braced. I could mock and deflect, but I needed to keep it light enough he wouldn’t get an urge to snap my neck, here and now.
His stare sharpened. “So you’re lying to me already.”
