Page 117 of Tales of a Monstrous Heart
‘No, opening cursed books,’ he clarified, reaching over me to flip the cover closed. ‘And I don’t hunt innocent creatures.’
I looked to the book, reminding myself of the night I’d seen him first in the moonlight. How far away that was now. How many things had changed.
I cleared my throat. ‘You shouldn’t own so many,’ I said, annoyed by my own breathlessness.
The shelves had shifted into a circular shape, concealing us. The vaulted ceiling, adorned with stone carvings like one of the saint halls for worship. Bright with long arched windows allowing morning sunlight to pour down on us.
‘You wouldn’t find me half as interesting if I didn’t.’ His gaze was cautious as it traced my face. ‘You shouldn’t go wandering those woods, Croinn. Not until we figure this out.’
I pulled back, ignoring the fact that he knew my latest scheme. ‘Is that why you sent Thean to spy on me?’
‘Thean?’ His eyes darkened immediately, his frown deep. ‘The last thing you need is to catch the rebellion’s attention, Kat.’
‘I doubt they’re recruiting at a lord’s dinner party,’ I countered tartly. The rebellion wouldn’t want a member as chaotic and undisciplined as me.
‘I don’t know. It appears Thean’s seduction tactics work wonderfully on you.’ He said the words so dryly and there was no missing the envy in his gaze.
‘I’m surprised you noticed,’ I observed coldly, his focus sharpening with almost deadly intent. ‘You think the rebellion care about a dead Kysillian bloodline?’
I pressed my hand to his chest to move him back so I could make my departure. ‘I’m in no danger from Thean. They’re here foryou, not me.’
His dark brow rose, the hint of a smile at the corner of his scarred mouth almost mocking as he captured my hand so gently, keeping me close. ‘Really? You think a Kysillian with full range of her magic wouldn’t catch their eye?’
‘Jealous?’ I snapped irrationally.
Something shifted in his expression, almost in warning. ‘Let’s just say it isn’t in my nature to share.’
‘You’re just annoyed someone else is trying to take advantage of my usefulness before you can.’ I broke, letting that bitterness out of me. Ready to be done with the game as I tugged my hand free of his hold.
If he was offended by the slight, he didn’t show it, no, he did something worse. He leant closer, a softness in his features that unsettled my heart. ‘That’s not why I chose you, Kat.’
‘Why else would you?’ I hated the hurt that burned in my chest at that truth. I was here because I wasuseful, and I wouldn’t fool myself otherwise. I pushed him back, moving past him to leave. ‘Call him an old bastard all you want, at least Master Hale was honest about his intentions.’
Liar.That voice hissed in the back of my mind.
‘Getting you killed for nothing more than his pride?’ He teased bitterly behind me.
I spun back to face him, hearing the shelves around us creak, displeased with our fighting. ‘Master Hale was trying to help.’
‘Help? By trapping you there?’
‘Where else was I supposed to go, Emrys?’ I threw my arms wide with frustration. ‘To the fey traffickers? The workhouse? Or the streets?’
Each word struck him like a blow but I didn’t care. Ignoring the sting of tears with my irritation, I charged back to him, finger pointed to ram it into the centre of his chest, Council regulations about partnership conduct forgotten.
‘We both know the rebels won’t have me. I’m even too cursed for the likes of them.’ I prodded the space right over his heart. ‘WhateverdebtHale owed you—’
‘Debt?’ He cut me off, the question as sharp as a blade, but it was his fingers that captured my wrist, pulling me closer until we were flush.
My palm was flat against his chest, feeling the calming, steady beat of his heart. His head ducked to meet my eye, an intensity resting in the stormy grey of them.
‘I once read a paper so beautifully written, it was like I was learning magic was real for the first time.’
My next words stuck in my throat, breath escaping me too softly.
‘Like seeing it rise from my own flesh, feeling it move through my veins. Proving I was real. I was alive,’ he whispered, like we were sharing a secret. ‘Magic survives, no matter how weak or thin its threads become. Unashamed of its weakness, consumed by its relentless will to live. It survives and we forgive it for its viciousness in doing so. We’d forgive it anything, and yet we never forgive ourselves.’
My words. They were my words.
