“By all means, wait until I’m gray.”
Shaking her head, Thia returned her attention to the wound, thinking through her answer. She’d told Dess about the joys of modern life, but somehow that didn’t feel as important now. What she missed was the surety of knowing what was expected of her, her place in the world. And those things were gone.
She decided on the simplest answer possible. “It’s warm,” she said. “Not like here. Fewer trees too. Sometimes we get these wild storms….” She paused, remembering the one that had brought her here. Her mouth twisted. “It’s home.”
“It sounds dangerous.”
In spite of herself, Thia snorted. Compared to Eldris, it was nothing. “Hardly.” She inspected the wound again, snagging a small stone. “My turn.” Oskaren nodded in confirmation. “Why the curiosity about my home?”
“Because,” Oskaren said easily. “You have a home to go back to.”
Thia peered up at her. “What happened to your home?”
Oskarentsked.“Not your turn.” She ran her unoccupied hand over the back of her neck. “Why, when he killed your parents, are you so adamant that I shouldn’t kill the king?”
Thia opened her mouth to reply that killing was obviously wrong, but slammed it again when she realized that wasn’t the truth. “Because he would kill you first,” she said instead. “And I need his help.”
“So if neither of those things were true, you would help me kill him?”
“Not your turn,” Thia retorted, relieved she didn’t have to answer. Uncomfortable, because she was no longer sure. She moved to a stuck thread next.
Oskaren waved her hand in the air, gesturing for her to go on. “Apologies, my lady.”
Thia scowled. “Why do you call me Faelyn?”
Instead of answering, Oskaren said, “Why do you care what happens to me?”
So Thia asked, “Why did the king take your heart?”
Oskaren’s playful tone turned sharp. “How does it feel to know that you’re completely useless to us all except as passage to the king?”
Thia winced. She should have expected it after asking the girl the most painful question she could have, but the words didn’t sting any less, likely because she’d thought them herself. “Sorry,” she muttered.
Oskaren turned, and her fingers found Thia’s cheek. She froze, but then Oskaren let them fall just as quickly, blowing out a pained sigh. “Of course you are.”
They sat in silence. Thia’s skin burned in the absence of the girl’s touch. Oskaren’s face was impassive, as though nothing unusual had occurred.
“Am I healed then?” Oskaren asked after a moment, and Thia started, remembering herself.
“Not quite.” It was cleared of debris at least. She set the tweezers down and snatched the alcohol again, which she poured over the wound.
Oskaren inhaled sharply. “Ouch.”
“The price you pay for attacking your friends.”
“Dess is hardly a friend.”
“What is he then?” It was a real question. Oskaren called him brother, but he was adamant that he wasn’t. Hostility was rampant on both sides. “Your enemy?”
They faced each other, Oskaren’s stare was too intense. “Is that your next question?”
The game. Right. “Yes.”
She pressed her mouth into a line. “If that’s how he feels, good.”
Thia frowned. Those were not the words of someone who no longer cared. “Do you…” She cleared her throat. “Do you remember what it was like before you were cursed?” Remembering their rules, she added, “You don’t have to answer. I’m asking outside of the game.”
She braced herself for another angry retort, but Oskaren surprised her again. “I remember that I was happy.” Longing was evident in her voice. “But I don’t remember what that feels like.”
