AllFreeNovel
Share Us
"And what would you know of it?" He narrows his gaze, cocking his head to the side.
It isn't hard to summon the anger I need to lift my chin, my own eyes burning with rage when I respond.
"Only that it is like no sickness I have ever seen, nor heard of. Or would you like to double down on your lie and pretend that it is some rare Jokithan plague?"
Instead of so much as a flicker of remorse crossing his features, indignation widens his eyes.
"You wish to speak tomeof lying?"
I distantly register that his lips aren't moving exactly as they should, but my mouth outpaces my mind when I answer.
"And what have I lied about?" Plenty, but I mostly want to know which of them he has figured out.
But he doesn't answer. He only looks at me with a waiting expression, like he expects me to deduce the answer on my own. And belatedly, I do.
Because we aren't speaking the common tongue.
I realize now what his sharp glance in my room had meant. Not because I had refused Sigrid what she had asked for, but because she had been speaking Jokithan when she told the king to have her moved.
Inwardly, I curse my thoughtlessness. Outwardly, I remain calm.
"Are you expecting me to apologize for picking up some of your language in the several weeks I have lived here? Would you rather that I remain ignorant of my own people?"
"Your knowledge would suggest far more thanpicking up some of the language," he shoots back at me, using my own phrase.
Again, I pull from the substantial supply of rage and injustice swirling around in my mind and infuse it into every one of my features, my posture, and my voice when I speak.
"If you'll recall, I had very little else to do when you brought me to your castle, alone, then refused to see or speak to me for weeks."
Shame crosses his features, just as I had hoped it would.
"None of this is helping Sigrid," I add in a softer tone. "Why don't you tell me what you know, so at least I can better care for her. Maybe I can help."
He sinks into his armchair, letting his head fall into his hands.
“There's nothing anyone can do to help.” He gestures around at the books, and I realize that this is the first time he is aware that I have been in his room.
I take a moment to study it ostensibly.
"What's all this?" I asked.
"Research. Seventeen years’ worth. I've been looking for an antidote, and I am no closer than I was when I started. And I'm running out of --" He cuts off, looking at me sharply.
Seventeen years.
“Running out of what?" I prod him.
“Time,” he says at last, his fingers tugging at the chain around his neck that he never takes off.
I suppress a scowl. He might be running out of time, but that's not how he had planned to end that sentence.
What is he running out of?
He is still keeping secrets, though probably not as many as I am.
Before I can ask anything else, a loud knock sounds at the paneled door.
“Enter,” Einar says, his eyes still locked onto mine.
