“You’re a quick study, Fawn.” Kane’s lips tilt into a half smile as sweet and volatile as ether. “Tell me, do you learn everything so quickly?”
I swear I’m in an utterly embarrassing near-constant state of blushing around this man. “I did graduatewith honors from the University of Illinois. Go Fighting Illini,” I cheer and give a lackluster fist pump.
Even from the other side of the room, Kane’s deep, rumbling chuckle brushes over my bare arms and makes me shiver.
He grabs the leather satchel off the mantel and lifts the cast-iron pan from its resting place on a hook above the hearth. He sets it down, and it clunks into place on the sturdy wrought iron cooking stand. Next, he empties the pouch and handles the eggs. They’re of average size but look almost like pebbles in his large hands. Kane cracks them with a skilled flick of his wrist, and they sizzle when they hit the hot skillet. Casually, he tosses the spent shells into the flames while he fists his hand into the bottom of his tunic and uses it as a makeshift oven mitt to move the pan back and forth over the fire.
The aroma of scrambled eggs mingling with the woodsy scent of the fire makes my mouth water. I’m not sure how long it’s been since I last ate, but I’m starving. “You have chickens out here in the forest?”
“I borrowed a cage of hens when I left the city.”
I glance around the neglected cabin with its weathered furniture and the bundles of dried herbs hanging from the walls. “Did youborrowthem in the same way youborrowedthis house?”
Kane’s gaze meets mine, that delicious half smile lifting his lips. “I intend to give them back. I won’t stay banished from the palace forever.”
“You were banished? What exactly do you have to do to get thrown out of a castle? Use the wrong fork at dinner?”
His expression hardens, the firelight casting bluntshadows on his chiseled features. “You would not be so quick to jest if you knew the toll my absence has had on our kingdom.”
“Because you’re the one guy who holds everything together. You’re the glue.” I roll my eyes. “I’ve heard that before.”
“I am the one man who sees the truth of what is happening within the palace walls,” he booms, and I suddenly feel like I’m in trouble. Like he’s going to ground me and take away my phone.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“You should not speak of things you do not understand.”
“You shouldn’t yell at partially dressed stabbing victims who fell through a portal into another world.”
He narrows his eyes, ready to make another scathing retort before pausing. “Fair enough.” He turns back to the fire to shift the pan, and the golden-yellow eggs bubble and pop. “I was banished from the palace and the city of Pentacles because its power and influence are being twisted, used, and changed to benefit only one—Four,” he explains, back to being calm and measured.
Confusion knits my brow. “But you said the power and influence would only benefit one person.”
“Correct: Four.”
“No, one. One person. Four is three more people.”
“‘Four’ is the corrupt wretch’s name.”
“Oh.” I click my tongue. “Got it.”
“Four sought to kill me before I could do the same to him. Alderic, our king, is the only reason I still have my head. But Four is in command of Pentacles and speaks for Alderic. Those within the palace either cannot see orchoose not to see the curse Four has woven.”
“That’s the rot,” I say, continuing to piece together the how and why I’m here.
“That’s the rot,” he agrees. “At least, that is part of it.”
“And the other part?”
“That’s where you come in.”
“Right.” I grimace and shake my head. “I was hoping I’d hallucinated the whole thing about being the cure and having a job to do.”
“You are the cure, Fawn. Pentacles is on the edge of collapse no matter how much those in charge refuse to acknowledge it. Prosperity is never ensured and does not continue on its own. It has to be worked for. The townspeople and those who rule over them must be united to keep the kingdom from ruin. When they are not, as they are not united now, the tide turns, and it happens quickly. In order to go back to your home, you must finish your job, and your job is to rid our kingdom of rot and heal the—”
I cut him off, my exasperation bubbling over. “Yes, I know. The layers. The gross onion. I got it. I mean, I understand the words you’re saying, but I don’t think you’ve understood anything I’ve said.”
“That you’re a less-than-desirable bedmate who refuses to bear six children?” he replies, infuriatingly calm.
