With a careful scrape of his chisel, a strip of gray bark flies off the stick and into the coals. “Then why are you here?”
“Ever is busy with his meetings.” Unlike Gryff, I am not content with silence. Besides the new king and, on occasion, his wife, no one in Rosehill cares to keep me company. I have tried befriending the guards, but they shrink back like I am going to roast them on a spit.
Probably because I amvulgarandgrotesque.
I knew many Seelie felt this way but thought maybe Nia was more like her cousin than the rest of them.
As with most things, I was wrong.
Gryff twists the stick and begins chiseling the other side. “Are there no other fae to entertain you?”
“None I wish to see.” Or, more accurately, who wish to see me.
He trades his chisel for his dagger and saws off a slice of meat from the spit. I expect him to eat it himself, but instead, he offers the cut to me.
My face must be very sad to warrant sympathy from the hardest fae I know.
The meat is too dry and spicy, but I do not tell him this for fear he will pour the boiling juices over my head.
This might come as a shock, but Gryffin used to be happy before he lost everything.
Now, he is a stone wall who feels nothing. I never thought I would say this, but today, I envy him.
We eat in silence, something else Gryff never seems to mind. How does he survive it? Does his mind not start screaming the moment quiet descends?
I am not attracted to you . . .
I find your body vulgar and your face grotesque.
“How do you stop feeling?”
His chewing slows.
“You have lost so much, and yet you are . . .” I dare not say happy. We are too close to a fire for that. “You do not lie in bedall day wallowing.” If I had not forced myself out of my wagon, that would have been my fate this day.
“There is no food in my wagon. If I do not eat, I will die.”
That is the secret to surviving heartache? Hunger?
This advice will not help my situation. Perhaps he will be able to assist me once he knows the truth of what has happened.
“I told a lie,” I confess.
Gryffin rolls his eyes. “That is no different from any other day.”
If that is so, then why does it feel as if my guilt is eating me alive? “I lied to Nia Quill. Said I was not interested in mating with her. That I am seeking the affections of an Unseelie female.”
Gryff blinks at me, his jaw hanging. “NiaQuill? The fae you said has the most perfect flat teeth?”
In my defense, her teeth are perfect and white and straight.
“The one you claimed was the fairest female in the realm?”
Again, not a lie.
“The one you said made your heart sing?” he snorts.
I do not know why that confession is the one that makes my ears burn with embarrassment. It was said under the influence of much drink, and even though I am now sober, the words hold true. I only wish I had not spoken them aloud.
