I couldn’t help trying once more. “Are you going to tell me why you want me to pretend to be fae?”
“Not yet,” he replied simply, opening the door.
“How am I supposed to prepare if I don’t know the details?”
“I’m hoping the lack of preparation will help you be more convincing, actually.”
What on earth didthatmean?
I gritted my teeth.
Following him out of the burrow to where I’d first arrived, I resolved not to ask any more questions. After all, I didn’t care if his plans succeeded or not, as long as he helped me find my family.
As he turned to lock the door, I startled at the brightly lit tunnel, so different from the darkness when I’d first arrived. Gwen had said she’d “take care of it,” but I’d expected fluorescent cave lights and rock walls or something. Instead, warm light came from where lanterns hung on the walls every dozen or so feet, revealing a colorful carpet over the dirt floor and smooth dirt walls, where tree roots seemed to grow in pretty patterns like artwork.
Far above, stars in the night sky twinkled down through the hole. A gust of icy air reaching down into the warm tunnel made me shiver. The stairs mocked me, so obvious now in the light.
As the lock clicked into place, Soren straightened. “Lore mentioned you saw a boggart earlier. They lure in victims by impersonating someone you know.” He turned away from one tunnel to take the other. “Don’t let them worry you. The light scares them and any other gremlins off.”
When I glanced over, he met my eyes briefly, then started walking. Over his shoulder, he said, “You look nice.”
Nice.
It was a generic word, but he’d managed to make it sound like a huge compliment.
Nope. I refused to accept it. Despite him being fae, I’d admit he was good-looking, but while he might be used to girls fawning all over him, that wasn’t going to be me.
At first, I wasn’t going to reply. But his quiet presence drew the words out of me. “It’s a waste of time, you know.”
“What’s that?” he asked absently.
“The glamour. I’ve never fit in a day in my life. I hate to break it to you, but it’s not going to work now.”
He tilted his head. “Who said anything about fitting in?”
I tripped slightly over thin air.
His fingers twitched as I caught myself, like he’d been ready to reach over. But that was my overactive imagination. He hadn’t even looked at me.
I cleared my throat. “I assumed since you’re hiding that I’m human...”
Before I could find the right words, he stopped and faced me. “Being human might undermine your efforts for what’s coming up. Beingyou, on the other hand, can only help.”
I tried to process the words—what did that mean? He added, almost to himself, as he started walking again, “I must confess, your concern with what others think of you baffles me. Why would someone like you ever want to fit in?”
He was already a few strides ahead when I realized I’d stopped walking and jogged to catch up. I couldn’t tell if he actually wanted an answer. He didn’t look at me again. Something had drawn his thoughts inward.
But I tucked his words away to examine later.
It seemed like an accidental compliment, but it also might be the nicest thing someone had ever said to me.
