Page 53 of A Lost Light

I nodded. “Even if your feelings are enhanced by the bond, you mean more to him than you think. You represent so much more. If you weren't interested in him, then fine. It would be your right to say so. But since you clearly want to love and protect him, why deny him these things? Why deny you both the happiness you could provide?”

He searched my face for a moment, his usual calm mask crumbling away to leave a vulnerable, beautiful rawness. “I keep thinking it's all too good to be real,” he whispered, with a little nudge from me to keep him calm. “I keep thinking I'm not good enough to have all these people want to be close to me. I'm too cursed. And ugly. And scarred.”

He really didn't understand. He had no clue about the potential I saw in him—and that I suspected he others could feel, even if they couldn't put the notion into words. This man was meant to be a leader, not to cower in corners afraid of his own beautiful darkness. Maybe one day he would see it. And the family we were building would be better for it.

“You're beautiful,” I said adamantly. “Dyre, they are all drawn to you—weare drawn to you—because you're an amazingly alluring man. Powerful, smart, knowledgeable, handsome, and more sensitive than you want to let on. Darkness can be beautiful. Like night sky full of stars.” I tugged on his braid, making him laugh. “And this hair is quite sexy too, you know.”

He wiped his eyes and shook his head, sitting up straighter, with me still in his lap. “You're the worst,” he grumbled. But there was no true anger in his words. “Getting under people's skin and making themseethings. It’s awful.”

I shifted back and stood, giving him some of his personal space back before he could start to feel awkward again. “Give Elijah a chance. You both need it. You can help him find his footing in this new life. Help him feel grounded. He worries about being a monster too, you know.”

“He does?” Dyre said with an adorable frown for such a dark, broody man.

“Of course he does,” I said, heading toward the door. “We all do, sometimes.”

Then I left him to his thoughts.

Chapter 32

River

Only one day had passed since our little confrontation with the cult, and already I felt restless. I thought that once Andy and the others decided to get involved in matters, things would get more exciting. That maybe I'd get to stretch my legs a bit, use my abilities. Maybe even see what these strange, fascinating new people around me could do.

And yet, here we were, biding our time. The witch was back to focusing on how to reinforce or move the pocket world. She didn't want to talk about the rebels, her sister, or the councilor, and she growled at anyone who tried.

She seemed to care very little about what went on in the outside world. Though… perhaps that was an act. I didn't know her well enough yet to really say for certain. But the others said she had a big heart, and an even bigger sense of responsibility for other people's problems. (Some of them said it with fondness, and some with a tone of annoyance.)

She certainly wasn't showing those traits at the moment, though. Currently, she was acting as though nothing mattered outside this pocket world she inhabited.

It was maddening. The whole reason I decided to join up with the rebel cause was to make a difference. To protect my family and others like them who couldn't defend themselves from the cult. I needed to go, to move, to do… something. And yet here I was, prowling this curious, dusty haunted mansion in another dimension. I had made my opinions clear about the cowardice of hiding away here. But for some reason, I couldn't quite bring myself to push these people into joining the cause and heading out to fight.

Curious. Maybe I just didn't want to give up my access to all the information that resided here, all those delicious old tomes and the fascinating unexplored nooks and crannies of the Lovell mansion. Yes. That must be it. I did have a deadly addiction to needing toknowthings.

Which was why, against all logic or discretion, I was currently making my way down the hallway on silent feet, carefully placing each step, shifting my weight so the old, gleaming hardwood didn't squeak, so my scent didn't waft in the air and give me away. I listened to the currents of my magic, the subtle-yet-powerful sense that told me my luck would run out if I crouched down just there, but that everything would be warm fuzzy rainbows and hot chocolate vibes if I moved over here. Yes. Just here. Lowering myself silently, I allowed a little bit more of my magic free to play, giving me fuzzy ears and sharpening my already excellent shifter hearing as I lurked outside the kitchen.

“If all you're going to do is complain, go bother someone else,” the fae said in a flat tone. I heard the soft thunk of a knife on a cutting board, and smelled the distinct scent of green peppers. “I'm busy.”

A soft huff answered her. “Do you really think I'd be here withyouif there was anything even remotely interesting to do around here?” The jinn's silky voice was full of disdain.

A whiff of smoke tickled my nose. Then a wash of fae magic. “There is a working stove for that, Aahil. Do not set the kitchen on fire or Andy and Zhong will murder you. And I'll take great joy in helping.” A pause. Then a long-suffering sigh. “Where is Andy?” she asked softly.

Aahil snorted. “Researching spells with her pet corpses and their boogeyman voyeur.”

“Don't call Dyre a corpse. Or Elijah.” Silence. More smoke. The distinct sound of a knife sinking into wood. “Flame again, and I won't miss, jinn. Maybe you'll be less moody if I castrate you.”

They were quiet for a moment, both working on food prep, if the sounds coming from the kitchen were any indication. Then the fae spoke again, her voice softer. “What's Hasumi up to?”

“I have no idea. Probably fussing over the corpses. It's their favorite hobby these days.” Aahil's voice was bitter.

“Aahil…”

“Don't,” the jinn snapped. “Don't start in with the pity. I can't take it fromyou,of all people, fae.”

I tilted my head, curious as usual. I found myself increasingly interested in figuring out how these people fit together. How they all seemed to somehow work as a family unit, when by all rights, they should mix like oil and water. Perhaps I didn't see the whole picture. These two sounded more like squabbling siblings than like two people who honestly disliked each other.

“I'm not pitying you,” Niamh snapped right back. “Maybe I just want you out of my damned space.”

“Fine. I'll go.” Jinn magic rose, flared and dissipated.

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