Page 43 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“You want to be who you’ve always thought you were. That’s not a slight against me. I understand.” She recounted her list. “You can’t control it, can you?”
Caer shook his head. “I’ve learnt to activate it on demand, thanks to Diana’s help, but I still can’tstopit. Any time I touch someone, I risk their lives.”
How many?Aislinn wanted to ask.How many—and who?
But the question was too cruel, too invasive, and did it matter? It didn’t change anything. All that it would do would force him to relive that moment.
“Any more questions?” he asked, when she remained silent.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “A part of me wanted to. But you can’t lie, and could be forced to tell someone. Many might covet these powers, though I fear them.”
“Did you think that I might?”
“Come again?”
“Did you think that I might fearyou?”
He sighed. “Yes. I suppose I did.”
“Well, I don’t,” she said. “Just so you know. I am not afraid of you, and I’m not angry, either.”
Caerwyn snorted softly. “I used to hate the way that faeries could twist the truth, but now I’m starting to appreciate the honesty, too. It is nice to genuinely know you’re not afraid of me.”
“I understand that,” Aislinn said.
“Whyaren’t you angry with me?”
“We’ve only known each other a week, Caer,” she said. “And for all that I’m stubborn and impulsive and prone to bouts of irrational anger… it’s completely fair not to want to spill your darkest secrets to someone you just met.”
Their gazes met, hanging together like the beads on the leather string around his neck. For a moment, Aislinn stood suspended, the air as fragile as glass.
“Well,” she said eventually, “goodnight.”
She moved towards her bedroll, but Caer’s hand reached out, pinching the cuff of her sleeve between his thumb and forefinger.
“Thank you,” he said, “for not being scared. For coming with us. You didn’t have to escort me. The dwarves would have gotten me here.”
Aislinn froze again, her eyes once more threaded to his. She was still no closer to naming the colour of his eyes, but in the light of fire they looked like old moss, shadowed and soft.
Whyhadshe come with them? It would have been easier to go home with her father, but her first instinct—her only instinct—had been to follow the dwarves. To followhim.
“Well,” she said, spinning her impulses into acceptable truths, “I didn’t particularly fancy going back to your father and pretending to be some traumatised damsel incapable of looking after herself.”
Not a lie. He’d asked no question.
Caerwyn snorted. “Well, thank you all the same.”
“You shouldn’t say thank you. You owe me, now, Prince.”
Caerwyn’s face dipped closer, only a fraction. “I suppose I do,” he said. His hand dropped away. “Goodnight, Ais.”
Thefollowingmorning,theyate a quick breakfast and packed up in record time, determined to make the most of the day. Minerva gave the siblings a quick look as they were readying their belongings.
“Well?” she said. “Coming with us?”
Beau and Aislinn exchanged glances. “If we’re allowed to?” asked Aislinn.
