Page 122 of The Wishing Game

"Others do," he replies curtly.

"But not you."

A single nod.

"Why?"

"Human," he growls, the sound vibrating in the stillness of the night.

Oh no... Did I hit a sore spot?

"I'm sorry if this is something you don't like to talk about," I murmur softly. God, but nowIam the insensitive one.

He grunts, and just as I'm about to take my hand away, he grabs onto it, covering it with his own.

"I was a soldier for a few thousand years before I advanced to my current position," he starts, his voice the same steely baritone as before, yet there's a light tremor to it. "I have no living relatives who could comment on my age or birthday, but I would estimate I am over seven thousand years old in your human years."

"Oh..." Is there anything else I can say to that other thanoh? The man is older than the Bible—andEarth according to the Bible.

"That is quite old," I nod.

His brows furrow as if deep in thought. He emulates my nod.

"So you've never celebrated your birthday?"

He stares at me. Another nod.

"Ze..." I trail off, my gaze softening.

"Don't you dare pity me, human," he warns, squeezing my hand.

"No, of course not," I hurry to say. Someone as proud as Ze would hate to be the object of pity. "I just feel sad for you. Birthdays are awesome." I smile tentatively.

He's still staring at me, his gaze intent.

Recognizing this is a rare moment in which he's sharing something about himself, I decide to do the same to make him feel better.

"I didn't celebrate my birthday for a long time either," I confess.

His eyes flare.

"Why?" he asks quietly.

A melancholic smile plays across my lips.

"I was extremely poor growing up. My mother barely had enough to feed me on a day-to-day basis. I never got a gift or even a special meal. Then I was a slave for many years, so no one cared about me." I swallow.

His features harden.

"You said the people who enslaved you are already dead?"

I give him a tight nod.

"That's a pity," he sighs dramatically. "I would have enjoyed breaking their bones."

My lips spread in a genuine smile as I turn my hand palm up, lacing my fingers through his. He's startled by it but doesn't seem averse to it as his gaze drops to our fingers.

"Thank you for saying that. It means a lot to me." And that is the real Ze. He might be surly and rude and socially inept, but he's a real friend.

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