Page 20 of Lady of the Nightmares

That begged the question, though: if not them and not me, then who? Bael’s desire to lift the curse was worth nothing without a plan; he had suggested himself that I ask better questions. Perhaps I would start there.

* * *

As soon asshe’d helped me to dress in some soft, plum-silk sleeping clothes and brushed out my matted hair, Enid made a quick escape. She claimed to want me to “rest” before we traveled again, but I wasn’t sure what sort of rest she was expecting, as Bael didn’t look willing to give me a single moment to myself. Perhaps she didn’t care as long as it meant she could leave the tent.

“Were you planning on moving?” I asked, anyway, placing my hands on my hips.

Bael shifted his arm so one yellow eye became visible. “Perhaps eventually. It depends what motivation you provide, little monster.”

I sighed. “I don’t feel like playing one of your riddle games. I have barely slept in two nights.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and I knew he was rememberingwhyI had not slept the night before the hunts. To my surprise, however, he did not bring it up. “What was the servant referring to?”

I stiffened. I’d thought he was listening—it would have been impossible not to. “What do you mean?”

Bael looked down his nose at me. “Feigned ignorance doesn’t suit you.”

I looked down. I thought that might have been a compliment, but it was hard to tell. “If you are going to tell me again about how I owe you my secrets, you would be better off waiting until I’ve slept and am in a better mood.”

Bael cocked his head at me, considering. “I was not going to say that,” he replied, leaning back against the pillows. “Owe me nothing, if that’s what you want. Keep all your secrets, but perhaps consider that you owe it to yourself to share the burden.”

I jerked as if struck. He couldn’t realize it, but he’d inadvertently said something I’d already been wondering—something I was afraid to voice, even to myself.

My entire life, I’d been taught to never draw attention to myself, to always lie and never get close to anyone. My mother spent years instilling her lessons, and even as time went on and I stopped following every single rule, I never forgot that I was always supposed to lie about who I was.

Yet now, when I was completely and utterly alone, I was realizing every day that maybe my mother had been wrong. After all, both she and my sister had kept secrets, and they’d taken those secrets to early graves.

“So, what?” I said caustically. “I’m just supposed to trust you?”

Bael turned only his head and raised an eyebrow at me. “Why not me?”

I opened my mouth and then closed it again. For some reason, none of my typical responses—“because you’re Fae,” “because you’re a prince,” or simply, “because I hate you”—felt quite right on my tongue. I didn’t want to think too hard about why that was and, more so, why I cared.

Fortunately, Bael filled the silence, seeming not to notice my internal struggle. “If you don’t trust me for me, or because I quite literally cannot hurt you, then perhaps consider that whatever you are concerned about, I might be better equipped than most to help you.”

That, at least, was true. Only an Everlast would have the resources to find anyone in Elsewhere or seek the answers to any question. I bit my lip, walking slowly to the trunk to buy myself time.

Bending low, I undid the latch yet again and opened the heavy wooden lid with a creak.

Sure enough, on the floor of the trunk, beneath a mountain of embroidered trousers and silk riding jackets, sat a stack of worn and faded books with no titles printed on the covers. My lips tipped up with a smile. Once again, something had gone right—after so long with not a single moment of joy, not one tiny success, several in a row was almost overwhelming.I really should not get used to this.

I grabbed the first journal off the top of the stack and closed the trunk with a snap, holding it tight to my chest as I breathed in deeply through my nose and crossed the tent to stand beside the bed. Bael looked up at me through his lashes.

“What’s your magical affinity?” I asked. “You said you would show me when we were alone.”

He tensed slightly but did not seem surprised, and I thought he must understand the question for what it was: a bargain. Only once he answered my question would I answer his.

Bael sat up. “Are you asking better questions now, little monster?”

“I don’t know what you consider to be ‘better,’ but I have many questions, and you won’t get anything from me for free anymore.”

His face split into a wicked grin. “How very Fae of you.”

My stomach turned over. I wasn’t sure I liked that comparison, or the undeniable truth of it, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Stop stalling.”

He glanced around the tent, his eyes finally landing on the plate of fruit on my bedside table I’d left nearly untouched. “Give me that.”

His smile faltered, the grin no longer reaching his eyes as he plucked a slice of orange off the plate with two fingers. He held it out in front of me, just inches in front of my face, and I had to lean back so as not to go cross-eyed.

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