“Why’s that?”
I frowned. “It’s logic. There’s no way to prove that you’re telling the truth.”
He dipped his chin in acknowledgment.
“Though,” I added, “if you were smart, you would’ve said no.”
A chuckle escaped him.
What’s wrong with me? Is this another fae spell causing more word vomit, or am I coming unhinged?I wished I could blame the first one, but I didn’t feel anything abnormal beyond my sore wrist and bruised ribs.
I stood, heading toward the nearest bookshelf, needing to move before my nervous energy made me say something else I shouldn’t.
When I snuck a backward glance, though, his polite smile had shifted into something more genuine.
“I do believe you’re calling me unintelligent,” he replied in a strained voice, like he was holding back a laugh.
Leaning down to read the titles on the shelves, I shrugged again, though he could probably tell I wasn’t nearly as casual as I pretended to be. “Am I?” I tried to get a read on him, because he didn’t strike me as dumb at all, actually, but he also kept a tight lock on his reactions.
He squinted at me like a creature he’d never seen before, head slightly tilted, seeming at a loss for words.
I’d gotten that look before. Many times. I ignored it, or at least pretended to, studying the books.
The closest shelf held a mix of hardcover and paperback, with no clear genres. In fact, many of the spines were completely blank. That seemed like it’d make it difficult to find a specific read, but what did I know about fae books? Or maybe they were journals or more logbooks. Most of the tomes had a fragile quality, like they’d been around for decades. Maybe longer. Though I tried to read the few visible titles, I couldn’t focus. My mind spun dangerously fast. Imagining making a deal with a fae was one thing—actually agreeing to a bargain that might turn me into their prisoner was another.
I cleared my throat. “What do you want my time for?”
“I’ll let you know beforehand,” he replied.
“Hmm.” I got the sense he never offered a deal without knowingexactlywhat he wanted out of it. I could counteroffer, except I didn’t have a clue what that’d look like.
“What does that mean?”
I wrapped my arms around myself.
“Say it,” he prompted.
Chewing my lip, I spit it out. “I know a bad bargain when I hear it.” Before he could get upset, I added, “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need your help. I can find them on my own.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, turning back to the papers on his desk, which wasn’t an encouraging response. He obviously didn’t think I’d succeed.
I glanced past the shelves at the brown door we’d entered through, then back at him. That was it? He’d let me leave?
My eyes caught on the book he’d had open when I first stepped inside.The entrance log, he’d called it. What if he’d written down exactly where they’d gone? The answers I needed could be just a few feet away.
Turning slowly toward the door, I debated snatching it out from under him.
All I needed was a peek.
But he had actual muscles where I had none and probably six inches on me as well. He’d stop me before I even cracked it open.
Pursing my lips, I carefully avoided looking at the book as I tried to think of another bargain.
He rested two fingers on the closed cover. “You really can’t hide anything, can you?” His voice had a strange tone, almost like wonder.
Scowling, I turned back to face him. So much for subtlety. I took a chance and dove toward his desk, reaching for the book.
He picked it up and held it out of reach. “This won’t help you.”
