“I know Solhearts are born with silver spoons in their mouths.” Liam flicked a hand, dismissing her.
Bláth spun on her heel and flew out the inn’s door. It slammed behind her, jangling the bell hanging from its frame.
The sound shook Liam like a tremor. Guilt bloomed on his face for what he'd said.
Brighid returned from the bar, gaze lingering on the door, eyebrows raised. She walked over, heels rapping on the wooden floors. “Mind if I join you?”
“You’re most welcome to.” I scooted over, making room for her.
Brighid sat with grace, long fingers curled around a glass of wine. “It takes quite the insult to upset Bláth. What did you do?”
“Told her the truth.” Liam shifted, looking away.
Clearing my throat, I changed the subject. “The . . .bardwho spirited you from your manor—could you tell me about him?”
A knowing gleam brightened Brighid’s eyes. “Vaf? What’s there to say? I paid him, and he obliged. Bards are overeager and easy to manipulate.”
“No, I mean.” I shifted, sitting sideways on the couch. “You said he was a fae?”
Liam looked over, interested.
“He claims so.” Brighid sat back, flicking one leg over the other. “They guard their secrets well—little is known of them. But if one shows up? He most certainly wants something.”
“Do you know what?”
“No,” Brighid admitted. “I haven’t the slightest idea. He seems content to watch, for now.” She tilted her head back. “That’s not entirely true, I suppose. I know he wanted me to find you. In exchange, he offered to save me from my wedding.”
“Because your fiancé is a bastard?” I guessed.
“He is worse.” Brighid closed her eyes. “When I am wed, my life will be over. Everything will become an oppressive pall from which there is no escape.” Her ruby eyes flew open. “I am truly tempted to let the fae save me.”
The pain steeped in her voice raked across my heart like knives. Just who was this fiancé of hers?
“I don’t understand,” I said, tilting my head. “Why are you allowed to marry a Solheart? A nobleman, no less.”
“Lavaire was the first to return to Forlaith’s control. Fireborn are seen as . . . lesser cousins of Solhearts. In special cases, our unions are permitted.” She sighed. “I don’t want to talk about this. Vaf—did he tell you something?”
“Yes.” I glanced over my shoulder and lowered my voice. “He said something I don’t understand.”
“Yes, well. He likes to speak in riddles.” She tapped her fingers on her glass. “I’m surprised by how upset you both look. Were not burnings commonplace during the hunt for the witch?”
Liam stiffened. I swallowed, reminded of something I’d yearned to forget.
A witch had come to Casaloch, twenty or so years ago. A woman who whispered of the old ways, fermenting rebellion and reviving the worship of the saints. The Inquisitors had burned the city nearly to the ground, searching for her.
Killing everyone who was associated with her.
So many had died. Father had kept me inside, for days on end, during the worst of it.
I raised my head. We had found Liam at the tail end of the hunt.
Just before the witch had vanished, Forlaith had given up the search.
Liam had been so scared of fire, back then. Plagued by nightmares.
I tried to find his gaze, but he stared at the wall.
His mug hit the end table with a loud thunk. Without a word, he retreated up the inn’s steps.
