Page 123 of The Wishing Game

"Maybe not all is lost. I'm sure we can do something about it..." he trails off as he sinks deep in thought.

I shake my head at him, but I appreciate the initiative. And this time, it's not because we're a team and what happens to one reflects on the others—he's simply mad on my behalf.

"As I was saying," I clear my throat. "I was nineteen when I escaped the hacienda, and after that..." Warmth floods me at the vivid memories, my features lighting up.

"After that?" Ze asks curiously, leaning in. He has an avid expression on his face, waiting for me to continue.

"After that my husband made sure to celebrate my birthday every year. It became our tradition. He would prepare surprises for me and I would do the same for him. We made it a competition on who would come up with the best gift each year..." I add wistfully.

Ze's body tenses, and an indecipherable emotion enters his features. He tightens his hold over my hand, his thumb rubbing circles on my wrist. He squeezes his eyes shut as he takes a couple of deep breaths, almost as if he were in physical pain.

My brows furrow as I stare at him. Suddenly, his eyes snap open, jolting me closer as he pulls on my arm.

"When isyourbirthday?" he asks in a slow, deliberate voice.

His eyes bore into me, the dark of his irises glinting dangerously.

"September sixth."

"That would be sixth of Ananke in my world."

"Ananke?"

"There are fifteen months, each one dedicated to one of the ruling royal houses. Ananke is the ninth one."

"Sixth of Ananke," I repeat, tasting the words on my lips.

"Ananke is a good month," he mentions, nodding thoughtfully.

Silence descends as a look of concentration enters his features. Suddenly, he bursts out, "I have decided, human." His voice booms in that arrogant lilt of his. "I will allow you to give me a birthday. You may choose a month and a day."

I blink at him.

"You want me to choose a birthday for you?" I squeak.

"That is what I said, human. It is a great honor. You may rejoice." He nods, his lips twitching.

I refrain from rolling my eyes—such an honor!

"Fine. What month would you like?"

Although he still needs work on his delivery, I can sense that himaskingfor it would be revealing too much of a weakness—that hewantsa birthday. Somehow it reminds me of his ridiculous encounter withtrendyclothes and the way he'd desperately wanted to fit in but would have never admitted it aloud.

"It is up to you."

"Hmm. What about the third month?"

"I do not like the number three."

"Seven?" I throw out a random number.

"That is Flora." He wrinkles his nose. "I do not care for it."

"One?"

"I am banned from it," he mentions, shaking his head.

"Five," I say.

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