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He widens his eyes. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe.”
“I’m glad that’s the worst of your troubles,” I say.
“Thanks to you.”
I shift in my seat. “You wouldn’t have been there in first place if it weren’t for me.”
“Nonsense. I know going through Cebba’s quarters wasn’t my favorite idea, but to help Ruskin…well, I wouldn’t do anything, but ruining my clothes snooping around dusty rooms isn’t where I’d draw the line, believe it or not.”
I smile, pleased to see he’s retained his sense of humor, even as his face grow serious.
“I owe you my life, Eleanor.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “I just can’t believe none of you have heard of magnets before.”
“I mean it. A life debt might not mean anything in that odd, muddy homeland of yours, but in Faerie it’s a very real force.”
“Oh no. Does this mean you have to follow me around the world until you repay the favor or something? I like you, Destan, but I don’t need your company all the time.”
“No, but at some point, some time, you’ll need something from me, and I will be sure to give it,” he says.
“What about information?” I ask, the incident I’ve just escaped nagging at me.
He weighs this up. “It depends, but I can try.”
“Magic in Faerie. Does it, I don’t know, rub off on humans after a while? Could someone who didn’t have magic catch it?”
“Like a cold?” He laughs, and I know I’m on the wrong track. “I don’t think so. I know humans can use magical objects, enchanted charms, things like that, but honestly, I don’t pay enough attention to your kind to know to what extent that applies. I’ve certainly never heard of a human having magic of their own.”
I’m disappointed, but can at least rule something out. Some of the gold I’ve had react to me has been enchanted, but I don’t think all of it was, and none of it was spelled in a way that would allow me to use it so specifically.
“So, does that clear the life debt?” I ask.
“Not likely. I didn’t really answer your question, did I?” says Destan wryly.
“You don’t want to know why I asked?”
“By now, Eleanor, I’ve learned to just let you be nosy. It’s quicker.”
I roll my eyes at his jibe.
“But you should ask Ruskin,” he says. “He deals with humans all the time. I’m sure he’d have more answers.”
“Thanks,” I say, rising to risk giving him a hug. I’m genuinely glad he’s alive, and am even gladder when Destan accepts my embrace with a surprised pat on the back.
“Don’t rumple the nightwear,” he mumbles. “It’s new.”
I take Destan’s advice. That night, after Ruskin and I have made love again, I contemplate how to phrase my question. It’s easy falling into each other’s arms at the end of the day, offering a sweet distraction from everything else running through my mind. It’s not so easy to be open in other ways, to reveal to him something I still don’t quite understand myself. There’s a part of me—that sounds like Fiona—telling me that I shouldn’t give up this advantage, especially since there’s a chance I might need to use it against him. I try to silence that voice, but I’m not entirely successful. As I trace my fingers over the lines of his body, I continue to stall—dancing them to the edge of his torso as I start to open my mouth, then trailing away again as I think better of it. Eventually he notices.
“Stop torturing me,” he says. His eyes are closed, but the words come through gritted teeth.
My hands still. “Sorry, is it annoying?”
“More like distracting. I’ll never sleep if you keep touching me like that.”
“Oh.” I lift my hands, unable to hold back a small smile. “I’ll stop.”
“That’s one option,” he says, opening his eyes to fix his yellow-green gaze on me. “Not necessarily the most fun one.” He examines my face, perhaps noticing the creases of thought that have appeared between my brows. “But something tells me your mind is on other things.”
