“They say your ancestor enjoyed cruelty, so you shouldn’t be trusted,” she said, just to see how he reacted.
David tilted his head without looking at her. “And you judge people based on what others say?”
“Is it true?” she asked.
His voice remained even, almost bored. “Which part? That I’m cruel? That I enjoy it? That I shouldn’t be trusted?”
“Any of it.”
One of his shoulders lifted. “Stay and you can find out.”
Anna laughed once. “Give me one reason why I should do that.”
He flaunted a quick, devastating smirk that made her insides twist. “You’re curious.”
She didn’t refute it.
One elegant finger trailed across the spines before him. The tendons in his hand stood out, as did the bones in hiswrist. At first she’d thought him simply lean, but on closer inspection, perhaps he was a bit underfed. He had a thin, angular face, sharp at the jaw and nose but softened in places one wouldn’t expect.
Like his mouth.
As it sometimes did, her vision turned hazy, and in her mind, a shimmery image rippled forth, slow and sparkling. Against an ocean-blue backdrop, David stared down at her, expression far less guarded than it was now. He lifted her hand and pressed it to his chest.
If I have no heart…
His voice faded as the vision collapsed into a sea of glitter, and she was left blinking. Shaking herself, she took a hesitant step forward, leaning her weight against the settee. “What are you looking for?”
A long sigh left his lungs and he sagged back against the bookshelf, looking suddenly tired. “Yesterday I found out that my entire life is a lie. I discovered that I fled one prison, only to wind up in another. This one is prettier—don’t get me wrong—but my jailor is the same. This magic is ruling my life, and I want to know what I’m in for. If I have to serve this life sentence, I need to understand what I’m serving it for.”
Taken aback, Anna sucked in a stuttered breath. “I don’t think I can help you with that.”
His attention drifted to her, but this time, he wasn’t smiling. “You look familiar. That’s weird, right? Some of his memories are— I fucking hate that I’ve had these images in my head for the past twenty-one years without knowing what they were or why they made me feel like clawing my own veins out of my body. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be six years old and see visions of your hands killing people? To remember the warmth of their blood on your skin?”
Anna’s breath stalled.
Desperation rose to the forefront of David’s emotions, dim behind the ice.
In her mind’s eye, a skinny blond boy was crying over things he didn’t understand, and her heart pinched.
He pushed away from the shelf, his gaze planted firmly on hers. “If the things they say about me are true, then I’m a monster. Fair warning. But the truth is I don’t know if they’re true, and I just—I want the answer.”
So do I.
All she had wanted for five years was answers.
“I saw you, and something told me to stop. My intuition is rarely wrong.” He shrugged and motioned toward the door. “But leave if you want to leave.”
And that was all it took—the slightest show of vulnerability. She wondered why he’d let her witness it, but it made her decision easy. “I’ll stay.”
Expressionless, he blinked three times before a razor-sharp smile spread over his face. “Then why don’t you start by telling me everything you know about Morgan’s magic.”
She took a deep breath. “That could take a very long time.”
Faceted green eyes locked on hers. “We can go slow. It isn’t a race.”
“And then I told him everything I know,” Anna said, pacing the small quarters she shared with Madlyn. “Well, noteverything. We were only there for a couple hours before Autumn Farraday took him away, and there are dozens of books to go over, but?—”
“Anna,” Maddy said from the sofa, hugging a pillow to her stomach. “He’s going to figure out your secret.”
