She pulled a face. “Don’t start.”
He smirked. “If I want some time on my own … I just need to invite my sister to supper.”
“You didn’t invite me.”
“No, I didn’t.”
Their gazes met, the moment drawing out as servants appeared bearing platters of soup, cheese, and bread. Since her return to Caisteal Gealaich, she and her brother hadn’t spent much time together. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have a lot of time on her hands. However, Gil had a way of probing into things best left alone.
Her emotions were close enough to the surface these days without him stirring her up. Nonetheless, this evening, she wished to talk to him.
Maybe he knew what Mor was planning.
Gil broke their stare first, picking up a ewer and filling the empty goblet in front of Bree. “Mor still hasn’t called for you, I take it?”
“No.”
“Just give her time … our queen’s focus is elsewhere at present.”
A female servant placed a tray in front of Bree before darting away. Glancing back at her brother, she found him watching her.
“So, to what do I owe this visit?” he asked finally.
Frowning, she helped herself to a bread roll, ripped a piece off, and dipped it into the soup. “Aren’t I allowed to look in on my little brother?”
Gil raised an eyebrow, his expression easy to read.You never cared before.
Popping the bread in her mouth, Bree chewed and swallowed; these days, she ate more out of habit than enjoyment. “Have you heard any whispers about what Mor’s up to?” she asked finally.
To her disappointment, her brother shook his head. “Archivists are always the last to know.”
“No word has reached you about when and where the attack will come?”
His features tightened. “None.”
Curse it. Swallowing her frustration, Bree hurriedly veiled her expression, for Gil was giving her one of his penetrating looks.
Around them, conversation filled the cavernous dining hall. Nonetheless, she caught the sidelong glances and whispers of those nearby. Having the Raven Queen’s ‘shamed’ assassin join them was indeed causing a stir. She ignored them.
“What will you do now?” Gil asked, still observing her over the rim of his goblet.
Bree’s belly clenched, and she cut her gaze away. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly.
Shades, she’d once been so sure of herself, so secure of her place in the world. Yet now, she was adrift and battling with a longing that threatened to drag her down, like an aughisky—a vicious water spirit—into the depths of a deep, dark loch.
“But you can’t linger here forever, hoping Mor will forgive you.”
“I know.” Steeling herself, she looked at him then, her skin prickling under the directness of his stare. “But where would I go? I gave my life to serving my queen, to killing for her. Who am I, if I’m not her assassin?”
5: PINING
GIL’S EXPRESSION SOBERED at his sister’s admission. “Shades,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize you were so unhappy.”
Bree’s fingers clenched around the stem of her goblet. “Aye, well … I’m not in the habit of showing my underbelly to anyone.”
He gave his head a rueful shake. “I can’t believe you are now.”
Bree swallowed. “You’ve all I’ve got, Gil … and let’s face it … we aren’t close.”