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He’s on the other side of the cell, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against the wall. The sheet he slept with last night is folded neatly, tucked in a corner out of the way. He’s obviously been up for a while and from the slight quirk of his lips, he finds my near-miss funny.
“Nice,” I mumble, pushing myself up into a sitting position. I’m embarrassed that he caught me off guard and I say in a snippy tone, “I could’ve broken something if I hit the floor face-first.”
“Would you have let me catch you?”
“Nope.” When Rys raises an eyebrow, I tell him, “I know what happens when one of your kind touches me without permission. You’d be burned. I wouldn’t want that to happen to you.”
For a second, his whole face darkens. He looks angry, but only for a second. The next time I blink, his uninterested expression is back. “Someone’s tried?”
“The Seelie noble who tried to buy me from the market.” It sounds so crazy when I say it out loud. “He didn’t like it when I kept saying no.”
He scoffs. “You could beg me to touch you and I wouldn’t.”
Ouch. Tell me how you really feel. I decide that, if he ever does try, I’ll smile as he starts to blister.
Then, ignoring his comment, I reach up and pat the rat’s nest that is my hair after a rough night’s sleep. I take out the hair tie, running my fingers through the waves I get from braiding my hair when it’s damp. It feels like straw and I grimace.
Jeez, I’d do just about anything for some good shampoo. The shower box provides a soap that I figure is to an everything wash—hair, face, body, everything—but it’s killing my hair. I figured it’s not designed for dyed hair because Rys’s hair is freaking gorgeous no matter what.
I’m so preoccupied trying to work one super stubborn knot out of my hair that I don’t even realize that Rys has crossed the cell back toward me until he speaks up.
“Did you sleep well?”
Sweet dreams...
I jump, then quickly ball up the entire length of my hair, tying it into a twist on the top of my head to hide how nervous he just made me. Besides, I’ve put off taking another shower for too long. I’ll have to do that today. “Um. Yeah. You?”
“Well enough.”
I feel like he’s fishing. Good luck, Rys. This chick isn’t willing to be bait.
I’m not a moron. Now that I’m stuck in the same cell as the scarred Seelie, confessing that I overhead his conversation with one of the other guards doesn’t seem like the brightest idea. I only hope he doesn’t suspect I did. This close, I’m not too sure I want to piss him off.
Besides, I’m still trying to process some of it. The part where the other guard told Rys he could get out of Siúcra and he refuses to even think about it? It makes no sense. He really doesn’t want to leave.
I don’t get it.
And that reminds me…
I don’t know him. I was reminded of that fact again that last night. Except for his name, the fact that he’s Seelie and a killer, Rys is a mystery to me. Dusk obviously hates him, something strange is going on considering how often he’s taken from his cell, and then there’s the scar.
Every fae I’ve met, whether they were Seelie or Unseelie, Light or Dark, they were utter perfection when it came to their bodies and their appearance… except for Rys.
I tried to bring it up before and got shut down. He point-blank refused to talk about his imprisonment, either, but I’m willing to let that go. If he killed his almost mate’s sister, that’s as good a reason as any for me to be in prison.
But how did he get that scar?
As if he knows exactly what I’m thinking—and he probably does since I’m totally staring again—he lifts his hand, the tips of two of his fingers ghosting over his scar.
He does that a lot.
“What happened to your face?” The words are out before I even realize I’m asking them. Then, because I’ve already pulled the whole open mouth, insert foot stunt, I ask, “Where did you get that scar?”
When all he does is look down at me with another scowl, I realize I made a huge mistake.
Oops.
I brought up the scar yesterday, too. He chose to pretend that I didn’t, but maybe that was because I didn’t come out and, you know, actually use the word.
