Page 55 of The Sorcerer's Thief
“Hmm. I can work magic on you with ease so long as it’s for your benefit.” He ignores my question, almost talking to himself. “But anytime I mean ill or trickery upon you, it’s as though I’m impotent. Nothing works properly.”
“Terrible shame. Can’t have that. Now, answer me. I want to know why.”
He finally looks me in the eye. “I always intended to steal the coin. I never hid that from you. You left it for me to take, so I took advantage. What did you expect?”
More. Better. Trust.“For you not to be an ass.”
“Oh, I’ll always be an ass.” A sad chuckle passes his lips. “Perhaps if you gave it to me. Willingly. Handed it over with your blessing. Maybe then I could gate away.”
“But I won’t.”
“Why?”
I don’t want you to leave.“It’s not yours to take.”And I don’t approve of what you’re planning to do with it.“I’d thought we could share it.”You have to let me help you.“But I was clearly mistaken.”
He utters a frustrated moan, leaves the bed, and folds into an armchair, promptly dropping his head into his hands. I’ve never seen him so low.
Makes me nervous. Julian is supposed to be strong.
Desperately, I cling to my anger. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
“I’m not. I wouldn’t expect that from you.” The words come out muffled, spoken to the floor instead of me.
Seven seas, I feel sorry for him! I could pull out my hair I’m so frustrated. He’s pathetic, all crumpled in the chair, mad that he can’t properly steal from me. As I would be if I couldn’t best one of my targets.
I blow out a long, dramatic sigh for effect. “Why do you want the coin, Jules?”
He lifts his head, surprise etched across his handsome features. He sees the inquiry as the offering it is. A step back to me. An olive branch.
No.
Twig.
An olive twig.
He doesn’t deserve a full branch.
“Erm, I’m hungry. Need to trade it for some food.” He arches his brows. “I wonder how many nillyslugs on a stick we could get with a magical golden coin that sings when it’s happy and whines when it’s pissed?”
I laugh in spite of myself, just a little bit. “I’m not forgiving you yet.”
“I haven’t asked you yet.”
“Because you know I’ll say no, not because you don’t want it.”
“Correct.”
“I can’t trust you anymore.”
“No.”
The hurt comes rushing back, overtaking the anger. Water wells in my eyes, tears threatening. I blink hard and turn away. I don’t want him to see. On my side, back toward him, I tuck myself into the blankets and curl up tight.
“Come back to bed,” I say to the tapestry on the wall because I can’t bear to look at Julian right now. “You need to sleep.”
Silence. Then, “You sure? I can stay in the chair. Or I can leave if you’d rather.”
“Don’t leave,” I snap. “There’s more than enough room.”
