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“No.” I looked up at him, an uncomfortable, yet familiar sensation coming over me, like I didn’t belong in my own skin. “Who is your father?” I asked again, needing to shift the topic. I wasn’t ready to face the demons of my past—not yet.
A twitch worked in his jaw. “Fachnan.”
I jerked to my feet as if I’d been bitten by a snake. I’d suspected, but hearing him voice it was like a punch to the gut. “The cruel Fae king?”
He arched a brow. “So you’ve heard of him.”
It was a rhetorical question. Unless you were a troll living at the bottom of an abandoned mine shaft, of course you’ve heard of Fachnan. “Thorin said he butchered an entire town, and he’s as evil as Malvolia.” I stood opposite him, absently breaking small branches and throwing them in the pit.
His laughter sounded forced as he dragged a hand through his hair. “Well, at least he didn’t lie to you about that.”
“And who is Arabella?” I berated myself for the venom that slipped into my voice. I didn’t give a crow’s caw who Arabella was, or any of Helian’s love interests for that matter.
“You remembered her name.”
I wanted to slap that smug smile from his face.
“I have a good memory.” An obvious lie that I regretted as soon as it slipped off my tongue. If I had a good memory, why didn’t I know who I was? “Who is she?”
He circled around to the other side of the pit, facing me while breaking apart the rest of the branches. “Lady Arabella, Duke Viggo’s niece.”
I gasped, then silently berated myself for showing any emotion.
“You’ve heard of him, too?” he asked.
“His army is almost as big as your father’s.” I swallowed back my unease, though I wasn’t sure why I cared who this smug Fae married. “If your countries were to form an alliance, you could defeat Malvolia.”
“We could.” He had a wisp of a grin and his eyes shone with memories.
Bastard.
“Which must be why your father wants you to marry her.”
His bitter laughter had the chill of a brisk winter morning and the bite of a venomous serpent. “And here I thought all witches were stupid.”
“Why don’t you want to marry her?” I pressed.
“Because, although unlike you she is definitely a ten and probably the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, her heart is a one.” He tossed his sword from hand to hand before sliding it into the scabbard strapped across his back. “If she has a heart at all.”
“Hmm.” Refusing to show offense at his insult, I tapped my chin. “Interesting.”
He crossed his arms, scowling down at me. “What’s so interesting?”
“Interesting that you wouldn’t wish to marry her,” I answered in a sing-song voice, “since it seems you’re so evenly matched.”
Shadows darkened his eyes. “We’re not.”
“You’re right.” I smiled sweetly while imagining my tongue a sharp blade. “While your heart may be a one, your face is an eight, nine at best.”
A tic worked in his jaw while he eyed me coolly. “You’re a mouthy witch.”
“Perhaps we should stop playing truths. It appears I’ve injured that shriveled up heart of yours.”
His laughter was his only retort as I scooped my rabbit into my arms and brushed past him. I was determined to find a place to relieve my bladder and maybe forget the wistfulness in Helian’s eyes at the mention of Lady Arabella. Even if he thought her heartless, he obviously had feelings for her. And there was no way I wanted to ponder how I felt about that.
* * *
HELIAN AND RADNOR MOSTLYmade conversation with each other, leaving me out of their inside jokes while we sat by the fire. I pretended not to care. They obviously had a close bond. Besides, I had Demon, who’d finally decided it was safe to come out with Radnor nearby, giving me a chance to dump the multitude of rabbit poops out of my bag. I used it as fertilizer to grow more grass and leafy plants. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw Helian watching me with keen interest while translucent, green magic dripped from my fingers. He acted as if he’d never seen a green witch before. Then again, he obviously had never met a good one. I wasn’t buying his dragonshit story about how I was more powerful than other green witches and suspected he was only trying to flatter me, so I’d crawl beneath the furs with him tonight. Not that I would. Hugging my borrowed cape tightly, I scooted closer to the waning fire, trying to clench my chattering teeth as my gaze drifted to that lone fur he’d spread beneath him. The brute hadn’t offered me a seat. No matter. I’d rather freeze on the hard ground than share a fur with him. Even though it was exceptionally cold now that the sun had fully set, the stars obscured by the thick clouds overhead, which had fallen so low that I could almost reach up and touch them. I briefly wondered if he was always so ill-mannered, or if it had something to do with that small silver flask he’d slipped from his vest. Whatever was in that flask was strong, for the smell drifted across the campfire, hitting me like a brick to the head. Good thing he didn’t offer me any of his drink, either, for I knew my head would be swimming when I woke up. A few sips would’ve been nice though, just enough to warm my chilled bones.
