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“As near to trust as we’re going to get right now.”
He rewarded me with his brilliant smile. “Excellent!” He released me, then strode over to the table, returning with Blackbird’s tray of nibbles. “Have a quick something to eat then and we’ll get going.”
Chapter 8
In Which I Learn to Fence
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Like a child,I thrust my hands behind my back. My stomach felt wildly hollow all of a sudden, though it hadn’t bothered me much before.
“Lovely Gwynn,” Rogue said softly, “you need to eat.”
His concern washed over me and he raised a finger to my cheek, a feather touch that made me shiver. Now I understood why Persephone broke down and ate the pomegranate seed. She gave in to Hades. Maybe he’d been gorgeous and sexy, too. After all, he was the god of the Underworld, second only to Zeus in power. Kind of the bad boy of the Pantheon. And there I was, wanting to please my diabolical captor, too. But, call me paranoid, it made me deeply suspicious that everyone wanted me to eat from my specially prepared tray.
“My name isn’t Gwynn.”
“I can be stubborn, too.” Rogue waved the tray at me. In case I hadn’t noticed it before.
“If you’re so worried about time,” I countered, “why waste it on me eating? I hear there’s a banquet in my future. Or don’t you people have food at banquets?”
“Ground Rule Two,” he said. “Don’t act like you’re afraid of being assassinated. You must be nonthreatening enough to be underestimated.”
“Not unlike Ground Rule One.”
“Lady Gwynn, it’s a banquet. You will have to eat. You’ll also need your strength.” Rogue trailed his finger down my cheekbone again, but I batted it away. Too distracting.
“Stop that. And I’m not a lady and my name isn’t Gwynn.”
He waved that remark away. “You don’t know who you are. Here, eat.”
Perversely, I liked the impatient dictatorial Rogue better than the coaxing seductive one. It was true I was going to have to eat at some point. And for all that this magical place wasn’t the real world, it also wasn’t the Underworld where I could exist only in spirit. Easy not to eat when you didn’t have, oh, say, a body to keep alive.
“I’ll eat at the banquet—food I see other people eating. Nothing—” I pointed at the tray, “—especially prepared for me.”
Rogue glared at me. The tray vanished from his hand.
“Nice parlor trick.”
“Meant to demonstrate that food can be altered on its way to your mouth, if a sorcerer desired.”
“A sorcerer like you?”
“Any that wished to.”
“Nevertheless,” I said, “a girl has to have some standards.”
“Fine.” Rogue strode to the door. “Shall we?”
“I get two more ground rules.”
“We’ll cover them on the way—it will take a few minutes to walk to the banquet hall.”
“Can’t you just poof us there?”
Rogue raised that eyebrow at me and held up an arm, every debutante’s dream escort.
Sighing, I laid my hand on his forearm. Wiry muscle flexed under the black velvet. We walked out into a short hallway, more gray stones, torches burning merrily in sconces. Then we started down circular stairs. A tower. Of course—where else did you keep prisoners?
