Page 29 of The Red Woman and the White Bear

The question hung in the air behind him as a veiled threat, lingering even in his absence.

Bitterly, Aisling flipped open the book in her lap and scanned the first few pages. The volume read like a history textbook, a dry retelling of the establishment of Thin Places at the behest of the Unseelie Court. The print was tiny, the subject was dense, and Aisling had precious little patience for the tedious lecture on Fae diplomacy. Throughout the night she’d try several times more, if for nothing else but a distraction from her own thoughts. Each attemptended with an irritated sigh when she was unable to maintain focus on its contents for more than a page or two.

Her efforts were interrupted when a robed male entered her room—Rodney’s acquaintance, the Lesser Prelate who had taken her from the dungeon.Lyre,Aisling finally recalled. He hadn’t returned since that night, and she’d been both dreading and anticipating their next meeting.

“Feeling better, I see,” he remarked. He carried a tray of food that he set down at the foot of the bed. His hair—black as the oil slicks that sometimes coated the water near the docks—was combed back from his angular face so stiffly that it didn’t shift as he moved.

Aisling eyed it apprehensively, still wary of anything offered to her here. “Thank you,” she replied. “I appreciate your help.”

He nodded, glancing around the room before he pulled out Kael’s chair and sat down facing her. “How are you finding your accommodations?”

“Better than the dungeon,” she replied cautiously, studying his thin face for any indication of what he was thinking. His vertical-slit pupils were wide in the low light. “Though, I’d prefer a bit more freedom.” She rattled the chain against the bedpost for effect.

The Lesser Prelate’s expression remained neutral. “I’m afraid that’s not within my control, Aisling. I do believe that it’s best for you to remain here for now.”

“Best for whom,Lyre?” Aisling emphasized the name, as he had hers. It was a shot in the dark whether this faerie was the one who Rodney had described—one she took hoping he would confirm herassumption. Though he didn’t react, that he didn’t correct her was validation enough.

He leaned forward slightly and adjusted his robe around his legs. “Sometimes, what’s best for one is best for us all.”

Aisling’s heart sank at his non-committal answer. It was clear he held information he wasn’t willing to share, and her attempts to glean any bit of it from him would be unsuccessful.

“What business have you here, you and the púca?” he asked when she didn’t respond.

“Surely he explained it to you himself.” If he didn’t intend to answer her questions, she wouldn’t answer his, either. She was unsure of what, if anything, Rodney had explained to Lyre of her purpose. For now, until he revealed more, she would dance around it the best she could. “Does he know that I’m a prisoner?”

“I’ve told him of your situation.”

Aisling’s cheeks flushed hot. It had been the last bit of hope she had to hang onto: that when Rodney found out, he’d find a way to help her escape. If Lyre was telling the truth, and Rodney knew what she’d been through, maybe he was less of a friend to her than she thought. “Has he not asked you to get me out?”

He shook his head. “The favor I owe him is far less than that. He knows better than to even ask.”

After a beat of silence, Aisling asked, “You seem to know more about my situation than I do. Is there a reason why you’re here?”

“Because you’re alive,” he said simply. His expression remained impassive when he added, “And youshouldn’t be.”

“Did you finish it?” Kael nodded at the book he’d brought that was lying closed on the bedside table. He had returned the following evening, like clockwork and as aloof as ever, to deliver Aisling’s breakfast and salve instead of Methild. It struck her as odd to see him carrying the tray—the Unseelie King shouldn’t be the one serving her.

“Finish it?” Aisling nearly laughed. “I could hardly make it through the first chapter. I thought you said it was meant to entertain me.”

“History is as entertaining as it is valuable,” he said without a hint of irony.

Aisling rolled her eyes. “We have very different definitions of entertaining.”

“Would you prefer a children’s book then?” Kael shot back. Though slightly annoyed, his response wasn’t particularly unkind.

“I’d prefer to choose a book for myself, if you’d take me to find one?” she tried. It was worth a try. A walk anywhere, even if it was just down the hall and back, sounded better than anything. Her legs hurt from disuse and her back was knotted from sitting against the too-soft pillows.

He didn’t buy it. “Next time I will bring options.”

“Next time? Why waste time visiting a prisoner at all?”

Kael narrowed his eyes. For a long time he stood still and quiet. Thinking of a response, or maybe deciding whether or not to give one at all. Finally, he spoke: “There are things I wish to learn before others can draw their own conclusions.”

Aisling shifted to better face him. “What kind of things?”

“Things that are none of your concern,” he said coolly.

“Then why do you look at me like I might have the answers?” she challenged. She’d caught that look in his eyes a handful of times—just brief, blink-and-miss-it flashes of curiosity—and she wanted to know why.

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