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“Youbathed.”
I tried to ignore Faenir’s strange comment but couldn’t. It came out of nowhere and completely derailed the fury that had thickened across my tongue ready to be spat at him.
“It is what you asked of me, was it not? I would not want to displease my captor.” I bowed dramatically. When I raised my eyes back to his I held that wide, golden stare in contest.
It took him a moment to reply. Faenir did an incredible job at keeping most emotion from his bored, frowning expression as though he was not able to show anything else. “Just sit yourself down.”
“You arrogant—”
“Perhaps we should begin,” Myrinn said hurriedly, reaching for a bowl of what could only be described as a cloudy, thin soup. “Would not want the food to get cold before it is even enjoyed.”
Faenir reached for his glass of wine instead of the food. Still holding my stare, he lifted it to his lips and exhaled, fogging the inside of his glass before taking a long sip. He won. I tore my attention from him and sat, hating that I did exactly as he commanded.
In truth I was starving, but the idea of eating food was beyond me. All it took was the reminder of where I was and what had happened, and my hunger ran away from me.
Instead, I focused my attention on Myrinn. “I wish to return to Tithe.”
She almost choked on her soup. Carefully she placed the spoon down beside the bowl and raised a napkin to her lips. It was all an act to give her time to decide on her answer.
“That,” she said before patting her painted lips, “I am afraid is not possible. As much as I understand… and agree, that your being here is wrong, there is nothing I can do to return you home.”
I believed her. How could I not when her gaze was so trusting? I studied her expression and did not see a glimmer of a lie across it.
“I have already told him this. He chooses not to listen.”
My hand gripped the knife beside my empty plate. Its polished, bone handle in my hand was familiar. All it would take was a sure aim and a strong arm and it would have been thrown across the table and buried between Faenir’s eyes. In that moment I decided it would be leaving this room with me.
Just in case.
“What of your human?” I asked, trying to still the frantic thunder of my heart in my chest.
“Yes,” Faenir added, leaning forward with the hint of amusement across his stern face. “Where is your mate, cousin? Is it not custom to spend your first night together?”
Myrinn shot Faenir with a glare that made him snigger into his glass. “Haxton Manor does not scream in welcome. After my brief visit, I shall return to him, do not concern yourself. However, for tonight, I feel that there are more pressing matters to deal with.”
“Has he attempted to kill himself already? Escape his fate perhaps?”
My palm dampened as I tightened my grip on the knife.
“You are drunk,” Myrinn snapped.
“I need to be to get through this meal.”
It was comforting to know that Myrinn also shared disdain towards Faenir. Even though I was still captive, I felt as though she would protect me with more than just her words if required.
Myrinn struck out with a hand as though reaching for something unseen across the table. It was a strange action filled with intent and focus. I followed it and watched, in disbelief, as the wine in Faenir’s glass leapt out and splashed across his face before he had so much as a chance to hold in a breath.
Magic. Such an open display scared me more than anything else I had seen.
The glass shattered in Faenir’s hand. A growl built within his chest before spilling beyond his lips in a string of anger.“Leave!”
Myrinn stood again, chest heaving and hands open, waiting at her sides. “The years of your chosen solitude has ruined you, cousin.”
I watched as power radiated from Myrinn’s skin. The air grew heavy with moisture. The goblets of wine trembled upon the table as the liquid within sloshed and twisted like a hurricane controlled them.
“Get. Out. Now.” The shadows that hung naturally in the corners of the room seemed to shiver, slithering outwards like snakes that coiled and twisted over one another.
“There is no helping you. Years I have fought your corner with our family. Trying to make them see that your bitterness is simply a making of the way you have been treated. Silly Myrinn, always hoping to see the good in everyone.”
