His shoulders stiffen, and the color drains from his face, setting off warning bells in my own head.
“Do you know what I just realized? I never asked you her name.”
He blinks at me as he shifts Biscuits’s lead from one hand to the other, wrapping the leather cord around his white-knuckled fist. “Whose name?”
“The Unseelie fae you’re hoping to propose to.”
There’s more blinking and a drag of sharp teeth over his lower lip. It’s not that difficult a question.
Unless there is no Unseelie woman.
From the way he’s stalling, that’s looking increasingly likely.
His spine straightens. “Her name is Gia.”
I’m going to pretend to believe him. “Does she have a surname?”
“Of course. It’s Gia . . . Gill.”
The man is lying.
What’s more, he’sterribleat it.
Gia bloody Gill? He cannot expect me to believe that he’s in love with an Unseelie fae whose name happens to rhyme with mine.
Does he think I’m a fool?
“I would love to meet her,” I say, waiting for him to confess the truth: that Gia Gill doesn’t exist. That he’s been wasting my time and his over a pointless task. That he’s been so charmingand kind, making me care for him and long for his presence when that’s the last thing I want. The last thing I need.
Wide eyes fly to mine. “You would?”
“Yes. I can tell her what a wonderful man you are, that she would be lucky to have you as a mate. Then she would be sure to choose you.”
His throat bobs when he swallows. “You would do that for me?”
“Of course. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
For some reason, that makes him frown. Probably because you don’t lie to your friends.
You lied to Kerris about Nolan.
That was different. That lie was about self-preservation. This lie is . . . I don’t even know what it is. What does Maddox gain by lying to me about some fictional love interest?
Not a damn thing, as far as I can tell.
“I will see if she can meet you,” he says quietly.
What’s he going to do? Paint Biscuits green and bring him to lunch?
“I can’t wait.” I’m about to move past him when I realize home is the last place I want to go. What am I going to do? Spend all afternoon stewing in my room? No, thank you.
I whirl and head back into the castle.
At this point, there are three things of which I’m certain.
One: There is no Gia Gill.
Two: I need a drink.
