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The frustration on her face was locked down into smoothness, but he saw enough. The shake of her head confirmed it. “No. Normally I could have made the whole ocean glow and created a portal by now.”
He didn’t know much about portals, but he knew witches and warlocks were the most adept at them. The older Fae folks could create them on a whim, too, which begged the question…had an older Fae helped get him here?
“I suspect I was thrown here by friends. Or ex-friends now. And a family member. They might be part of the corrupt system and those deaths, and they may have had help from an older Fae to get rid of me.”
“Oh.”
“And I suspect you were a bystander who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“I was on a ship on my way home,” she confirmed. “And you still talk too much. I’m still a stranger, remember?”
“One who wouldn’t kill me,” he shot back. “If you planned to, you would have already.”
She grimaced, not contradicting his statement but reluctant about it. The tension from the water discourse eased a bit from his shoulders as he scanned the horizon.
“The sun’s going down,” she observed in worry.
He nodded, mirroring the sentiment: that nightfall in an open area wasn’t a good idea. Without a word, they trudged away from the shoreline. Her hand glowed and patted her clothes, then hesitantly touched his shoulder. A second later, he felt warmth enter his skin, then travel outward until his clothes were dry too.
“I don’t have enough energy for more,” she explained. “Chants take up a lot, especially coming from a place I don’t know. I’m not drained, but…”
“I get it. I have to conserve my shield too. And look at you.”
“What?”
“Talking too much. Sharing with astranger.”
She eyed his grin distrustfully, then stared ahead without commenting. Since she looked like she already knew where to go, he let her lead the way and kept up with her quick, steady pace.
“Are you some kind of investigator or something?” she asked after a while.
Rick tilted his head, then deduced that she was still trying to decide if he was an enemy. “Or something. Let’s just say I have some authority and the royal family might listen to me if I convinced them enough—or trapped them in a room until they either killed me or listened to me. Of course, I need something to convince them.”
“A suspect to the murders.”
“Natural deaths for now, but lately I’ve been convinced they aren’t. Me being here just cements that. Anyway, yes. I either need a suspect, a confession, or evidence to expose that everything’s connected, including the attempt to get rid of me.”
“It sounds like a violent court.”
“All courts have their pros and cons. Mine happens to not be one of those that savor killing sprees and torturing others just for the fun of it.”
“So, you torture for other reasons.”
“If it’s enemies or an attempt to track down kidnapped Fae. Believe it or not, it’s a common occurrence…wouldn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t I what?”
“Torture for those reasons?” he prompted.
Silence.
“It depends,” she finally replied. “But torture should be the last resort and should still be merciful.”
“Have you done it?”
“A mild one. Only because my brother needed help against a…difficult creature.”
“Right. We all have our reasons.”
