Nia comes back from washing her dress a short time later, wringing the soaked garment between her hands. “I bet you could do this better than I can. Your hands look a lot stronger than mine.”
What have I done to earn such a generous compliment? I will show her exactly how strong my hands can be. When I am finished with this dress, the fabric will be drier than ash. I take the garment and twist with all my might. Water dribbles down my forearms, splashing my bare toes.
She laughs and shakes her head, but her smile leaves when she catches sight of our dinner, my fear becoming reality.
“I am sorry for murdering your kinsmen,” I say.
Her brows lift toward her hair, which is even more springy in its damp state. “What does that mean?”
“I have killed a trout.”
Her laughter warms me more than any fire ever could. “I’m just glad there’s food. If it were up to me to provide for us, we’d starve.” She sinks down on one of the two flat rocks I have added to our small camp. If only I could give her more than sticks and stones and fish.
I drape her clothes over a boulder to dry while we eat, although with the dampness hanging in the air, this will take quite some time. “That is not true. You have been taught to make pie.”
“If we had an oven, I’d bake you ten.”
Her comment is offhand, meant to be teasing. Still, the words spread sadness through my veins.
If Nia were to ever bake me a pie, it would be out of pity.
A pity pie.
She glances up from the fire, her face obscured by a white puff of smoke. “Is this a proposal?”
I shake my head. “I have already told you that it is a trout. Chew carefully. There could be bones.” I have done my best to remove them, but one can never be too sure when bones are so small.
Hunger gnaws at my stomach while she picks at the fish’s flaky white flesh with her small fingers. I will not eat until she is thoroughly satiated. I will catch her a hundred fish if I must.
“What was it like growing up in the Unseelie lands?” she asks, drawing me from my internal reverie.
Cold. Lonely. “Ever, Gryff, and I went on many hunts together.”
“You’re lucky to have so many close friends.”
This is true. My life would have been a tragedy if not for the two of them.
She takes another piece of fish, popping it and the tips of her fingers into her pink mouth. “What about your parents? What are they like?”
I would rather discuss pity pie.
I have not seen my parents in so long, I can hardly remember. One trait stands out, though. The one that hurts the most. “They laughed a lot.”
“So that’s where you get it from.” She licks her fingers before going back for another piece of fish. For a Seelie fae, she does not seem to mind consuming the flesh of animals. This will serve her well in the days to come. “Do they still live in your village?”
I wish I could say yes. That my parents were growing old together just across the bridge. That I could stop by their wagon to ask the many questions I have had through the years instead of relying on my friends and my own faulty intuition for answers.
Alas, I cannot.
“They always wanted to travel, and when they had the chance, they took it.” Along with our barrel top and unicorn named Shadow. The only thing they did not take was me.
“I wish my mother wanted to travel. Then again, she would find a way to make the experience a miserable one.”
I prefer this direction of conversation, one where Nia reveals her truths and mine can stay hidden. “The two of you do not get along?”
“Not lately. She has these notions about how I should look and how I should behave and is constantly disappointed by my choices for both.”
Nonsense. “You could not possibly disappoint.”
