Page 132 of A Sin So Pure

“I wouldn’t consider myselflittle,” I respond.

I round the chair and peer down at the fae. With chocolate-brown hair that is long on top and cropped on the sides, and tan skin that hasn’t yet wrinkled around his eyes, he looks to be about my age. Though, that could mean he’s anywhere from mid-twenties to one hundred. A folded book sits in his lap, aripped piece of paper tucked between the open pages to mark his place.

One hand mindlessly moves up to twirl the curled edges of his mustache. His head tilts to the side, an action akin to the sprites, as he takes me in with keen eyes. They are darker than mine, a mossy shade of green rather than crystalline.

“No, certainly not little,” he says. “Actually, you’re on the tall side, I’d say.”

“And I wouldn’t claim to be lost. Being lost implies that I didn’t intend to end up where I did,” I say.

“Did you?” he asks. “Intend to be here?”

I shrug. “Does it matter?”

He hums knowingly, his cupids-bow lips curving under his mustache. The red glow of the crackling fire plays well with the undertones of his coloring, warmth bringing out warmth. It softens the sharp edges of his jaw and roman nose.

“Fair,” he says, opening his book.

“This is one of the communal areas, no?” I ask, head tilting to the ceiling where intricate molding swirls around the base of each chandelier.

The Seelie grabs his crumpled bookmark and twirls it between his middle and forefinger.

“The doors to this area are supposed to be locked,” I say.

“And?” He flips a page.

“I’ve been told the castle has rules. But clearly, it doesn’t adhere to them. Bit hypocritical, if you ask me.”

He throws his head back, laughter bellowing to the rafters. “I wasn’t expecting you to be funny.”

“You were expecting me?”

The fae replaces his bookmark and snaps the book shut.

“My father more than I, but I’d be fibbing if I said I wasn’t intrigued to meet you. Been meaning to for a while, actually, but I couldn’t snag the permits to visit the Human Realm.” He statesit all so casually, it’s unnerving. “Rumors travel fast on our side of Faerie, and a soul-stealer taking on the mantle of Pride isquitea rumor.”

“I’m not a rumor, though.”

“No, not anymore. I’d say you’ve graduated to a cautionary tale for the younglings.”

“And you are?” I ask, running my nail back and forth over the coarse fabric of the empty armchair at my side.

“Benevolence. But you can call me Bennie,” he says with a blinding white smile.

“And your father?” I ask, though I suspect the answer.

His smile turns sour. “Someone you’ll quickly learn to hate, if you don’t already.”

I tilt my head, scrutinizing the Seelie before me.

“Fair,” I say, mimicking him from before.

“Now you’re more than welcome to stay. The gods know I love company, but I would like to finish this chapter before I retire for the night,” he says, pointing down to the clothbound book in his lap.

I snort at his forwardness, but I can’t help but find myself impressed by it. There’s a familiarity to his energy that whispers of homesickness. I almost think it would be a shame for me to have to kill him, if I learn he helped Patience in any way.

What a strange thought.

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