Page 49 of By the Horns
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gwenna says in a prim voice.
“Admit it. You’re Sarya.” I’ve cursed that blindfold and my healing eyes a dozen times over since that fateful day. I’m practically giddy with relief that she’s stumbled over her own words and shown herself to me. If she truly is Sarya, this is the best possible outcome for me. I haven’t been neglecting locating the woman I’m obsessed with. She’s not a figment of my fevered imagination. She’s been right here under my nose the entire time.
And considering that I’m wildly attracted to Gwenna, this is perfect.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She puts her nose in the air, glaring up at me. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m tired and hungry and I’d like to go home.”
“First, tell me that you’re Sarya.” I move to stand in front of her, blocking the street. “There’s no point in lying any longer.”
“I don’t know what it is that you think I’m lying about,” she maintains, but her cheeks are bright pink with color. Far better than the bleached white they were down in the caverns. She’s bothered by my words.
She’s bothered because she’s been caught in a mucking lie. How has she hidden who she is all this time? How has she not said anything to me?
Unless there are more secrets she’s hiding from me…like being the thief.
Surely not. I can’t picture her as the thief in question. I can’t picture Gwenna—or Sarya—working with a bunch of cutthroats, opening up necks the moment a foolish repeater is no longer needed. It doesn’t match what I know of Gwenna. She can be a little jaded at times, sure, but who isn’t? And she cares for those she views as her family.
Gwenna’s cagey responses just irritate me. I point a finger in her face. “You and I are going back to the nest, and you are going to do some serious explaining.”
She swats my finger away from her face with her good hand. “There’s nothing to explain! Just leave me be.”
As if I could possibly walk away from a mystery like this without getting to the bottom of it? After learning that she’s Sarya?
She might not be the thief, but it doesn’t mean she’s not working with him. Or her.
I fight the incredible urge to throw her over my knee and spank her. Then again, that might not be irritation making me want to do that. It might be pure lust. I’m off my potion, so I’m going to be impulsive and turned on. There’s a small part of me that feels an overwhelming sense of relief that Sarya isn’t missing or hiding from me. That she’s been here all along.
That the charmingly tart human I’ve been fighting my attraction for is the woman I’ve been dreaming about, even if she lied to me.
But there are a few too many lies for me to be comfortable. Not when my task is to ferret out the truth of the conspiracy going on. I say nothing, just turn things over in my head as we walk across Vastwarren’s heart and return to the dorms.
When we get to Master Jay’s nest, Gwenna immediately heads for the necessary. I glance in the sleeping quarters, but they’re empty. Checking the rest of the house, I find only the nestmaid, busy chopping vegetables. “Get out,” I tell her. “You’re done for the day.”
The woman turns around, her mouth opening. “I don’t—”
“Out,” I say again, putting a growl in my voice. The woman nods, terrified, and races out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
As she races away, Gwenna enters, a towel around her hand. She frowns at me as if I’m the problem. “What did you say to Marta?”
“I told her to leave.”
“She has work to do. It’s not her fault you’re in a shitty mood.” She moves to the counter, eyeing the unfinished vegetable chopping on the counter. “If someone complains they weren’t fed, she’s going to be the one who gets in trouble.”
“No one’s here but you and me,” I point out. Even Kipp’s shell isn’t in the corner it usually inhabits. “Which means we’re going to talk about what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” Gwenna picks up the discarded chopping knife with her good hand and attacks the vegetables.
I move to her side and pluck the blade out of her grip, ignoring the glare she shoots at me. “I want to know what your game is.”
“I cannot even begin to know what you’re talking about,” she says with a huffed laugh.
“Probably because you’ve been lying to me so much you can’t even keep your own stories straight.” That earns me a dirty look, which confirms that I’m on the right track. “Give me your hand.”
She shoots me an indignant glare.
I gesture that she should hold it out. “Just let me see it. I’m not going to sit here and watch you chop up vegetables while you’re bleeding and in pain.”
Her jaw clenches, her expression mulish. Well, I can be stubborn, too.I hold my palm out, waiting patiently. Eventually she slaps her hand into mine. I gently pull the towel off, and I’m not entirely surprised to see that she hasn’t tended to her wounds. “Why didn’t you put an ointment on this?”
