Page 70 of A Fate so Wicked


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He clicked his tongue and reached into my bag, popping a sliced potato into his mouth before I could stop him.

“Hey!” I laughed, waving a hand down my body. “Starved one here.”

The bright smile that followed was contagious. I couldn’t help but display one of my own, wondering when things between us started to feel light.

“No, we simply age slower. That hardly makes me ancient.”

As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I could never tire of looking at him. Even his eyes seemed to change shades of green, depending on his mood. It was fascinating, and I needed to change the subject.

“Do you get to see your mother and sister often?”

He sighed. “No, not exactly.” Talon’s tone was curt, hinting he didn’t want to discuss the topic further, but curiosity had the best of me.

I finished with the chicken thigh and started on the potatoes before he could steal anymore. “Does being on the king’s guard take up a lot of your time?”

“Your focus should be on the trials—it’s best you don’t worry yourself about it.”

“Believe it or not,” I said between bites, “just because I’m a human doesn’t mean I have the mental capacity of a fish.”

Talon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can you drop it? It’s just not something I wish to discuss with you.”

I huffed a laugh. Well, fuck you too, I wanted to say. Instead, I poked around at the potatoes. “It all makes total sense now.”

He was harder to read than the ancient language carved into the coliseum doors—his mood ever-changing like the tide. It was infuriating. I couldn’t keep up. Hot one minute; cold the next.

Annoyance flared at Talon’s nostrils. “And what’s that exactly?”

“Why, you’re such a prick. You keep everyone at arm’s length, don’t you?”

“I chose not to share my personal life with you—and I’m a prick? What makes you entitled to that information?”

I stood, snatching the bag in my fist, my appetite nonexistent and my patience worn thin. We couldn’t go more than ten minutes without bickering. It was ignorant to believe we could get along. We were too different. Too explosive. “I don’t feel entitled to anything, I just figured?—”

“That I bring you food and suddenly we’re friends? Need you forget this is a deadly competition?” Talon stood, towering over me, and I took a step back. His size—his demeanor—intimidating me. “I didn’t volunteer to be your friend, Elowyn. It’s best you don’t lose sight of the goal by entertaining such outlandish fantasies.”

“Fantasies?” I scoffed. “Wow. Could you be any more conceited? Excuse me for trying to get to know the guy I’ve been stuck training with for weeks. As if getting to know each other wouldn’t work to our advantage. But you’re right, how outlandish of me.”

He stepped toward me, and I lifted my chin to keep his glare, hoping it wasn’t trembling.

“You humans and your emotions,” he snarled. “This isn’t Wendover. You’re in faerie territory—where such things will be used against you and cost you your life. So yes, it’s foolish to allow yourself to be even more vulnerable than you already are.”

Foolish to feel. How very faerie of him. How very him of him. I was done trying to make it work when he apparently cared so little. “Who are you trying to convince, me or you?”

The muscle in Talon’s cheek fluttered, but he didn’t reply.

“Yeah,” I went on. “I’m sure keeping yourself closed off will work out great for you.” I pushed the bag of food into his chest. A little harder than I should have. A little harder than I would’ve done a week ago. “Your mother would be proud.”

With that, I turned on my heel.

But Talon grabbed my wrist, pulling me back toward him with such force the air whooshed from my lungs. He flashed his teeth in warning. “Don’t you dare speak about my mother.”

I ripped my arm from his grip and flashed him one of my own. “Careful, Talon, your vulnerability is showing.”

Nineteen

Apungent scent wafted out of the coliseum’s marble doors and up my nose, burning my nostrils. There were no trees. No mazes made of mirrors.

Only five tables—donning three gold chalices each—were arranged in the middle of the arena in a perfect circle. One for each of us.

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