Page 80 of The Edge of Darkness

It works both ways, he replied. You only have to think with the intent of me hearing it, and I will.

I nodded to myself, processing.

Thankfully, Silas didn’t reply. I only heard his footsteps as he walked away from the door.

Assuming my mind was my own again, I surveyed the space, making no move to approach Nivelle. My stare settled on the plate of food she’d left neglected, and I frowned.

Finally, the witch turned her head to the side and said, “I don’t eat meat.”

My brows pinched in confusion, then I glanced at her plate again, looking closer. The vegetables were picked over and pushed around, indicating she had at least rummaged through them. But the meat was intact, drying out the longer it sat.

Nivelle had been avoiding us, keeping to her chambers and passing her time with reading and not much else. I understood that being here against her will was frustrating, but she would eventually have to make good on her agreement with Torin—to be her liaison. And whether she liked it or not, that meant participating in daily life.

“If I had known, I could have sent for something else to suit your needs.”

When she didn’t reply, I crossed the space and took a seat in the small upholstered chair, which gave me a clear view of her face. But instead of looking at her, I kept my eyes on the fire.

“Are you ever going to leave this room?”

“When Torin has need of me, I will do as I’m told and seek one of you out. Until then, I don’t plan on it.”

The wood popped and fizzled in the hearth, snipping at the line of tension between us.

“So, you’d rather starve in your rooms than get to know us or the territory you’re in?”

Nivelle said nothing.

I let out a long sigh. “All right. Tell me why you hate the fae.”

She remained staring at the fire, but the corner of her lip twitched in irritation. I’d figured her out, and that annoyed her.

It wasn’t hard to guess. Her kind had been betrayed by the fae before, and left to live within an illusion of their goddess’s making. And now, here she was, forced to be in the very realm of the lands the witches once sought, but no more free than she was back on the isles.

Her jawline hardened as she simply said, “You know why.”

“Because the Woodland Court betrayed Torin all those years ago? Do you realize this is not the Woodland Court? That Niall is not⁠—”

“He’s fae,” she snapped. “And the fae are the same as they’ve always been—quick to show off their power and boast about what’s theirs. Your High Lord dangled his lands in Torin’s face and she took the fucking bait. Don’t expect me to thank you for what he offered my kind.” Her eyes simmered in silent rage beneath her lashes. “I’ll pay the cost for her visit one way or another.”

“What do you mean?”

Her voice bordered on a growl as she said, “I told you before, we do not summon Torin unless absolutely necessary. The gods never offer help without a price.”

“The price is livable land in this court,” I reminded her. “And it will be paid.”

Slowly, she shook her head. “No. There will be more. There is always more.”

The flames of the fire flickered, dancing in the silence.

“You’re afraid of bargains with the gods?” I asked.

“Everyone knows to never make a bargain with a god. They are far too crafty with their words and their agendas only benefit themselves.”

A sinking feeling crept in my gut and spread like a flame catching on fresh kindling.

I didn’t dare mention my bargain with the god of death, but the thought was now burning in my mind.

It sounded like she knew firsthand what the consequences of bargains with gods consisted of. But perhaps not every god was like that. Perhaps it was just misinformation she had been given—like what I’d been told about the fae.