Page 32 of Crown of Roses
The stench of near-death lingered in the air between them. Slowly, Rowan’s skin cleared, and his veins, which once looked filled with ink, returned to normal.
With her dagger still clutched in her hands, Maeve rounded the table and held the tip of it to Aran’s throat. “Why were you exiled?”
“Your constant questions are giving me a headache.” Aran suffered her an eye roll and returned to his seat like nothing had happened, completely dismissing the dagger aimed to slay him, to kill him in seconds. He pressed his fingers to his temples and rolled his neck. “You’re like an annoying little sister who never shuts up.”
Maeve flinched, but she blew out a breath and didn’t lower her weapon. “Well?” she demanded.
Aran’s lip curled. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“Fine,” Maeve said, at the same time Casimir shouted, “No!”
Casimir stormed up to her. His face was etched with vehemence but his eyes were pleading. “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”
Aran took a drink of his coffee. “It won’t be anything outlandish.”
Maeve glanced over at Rowan, who’d recovered completely and didn’t look at all like he’d been on the brink of death. She met his gaze and he nodded, once. She tucked her dagger back into her sheath, but didn’t miss the way Aran’s eyes remained trained on it the entire time.
She eased herself down beside him. “What are your terms?”
Casimir groaned. He looked torn between screaming at her and tossing her over the railing into the sea.
“Simple.” He slathered butter onto a honey roll. “A truth for a truth.”
“Meaning?”
“You ask me one thing, and I’ll tell you the truth. But only if I get to do the same.”
“And I can ask you anything?”
It seemed too…easy. Too much like a trap. Her insides were a tangled bundle of anxiety. This would be her chance, her opportunity to ask him anything. Anything about the Evernight War, about the plague, about the soul of a goddess.
“Anything,” he confirmed and held out his hand. “Don’t worry, there won’t be another Strand since we’re merely exchanging information, and not offering up favors.”
Maeve hesitated only a second, then clasped his outstretched hand. “Deal.”
They shook on it and again her mind was barraged with images she couldn’t place. A kaleidoscope of autumn leaves swirling down from the sky. A lake as smooth as glass and water as pitch as night. Crumbling stone. And a set of beady, glassy eyes gazing at her from a shadowy brush.
She yanked her hand back and Aran’s steady gaze remained trained on her.
“After you,” he said mildly.
Hundreds of questions boggled her mind and consumed her thoughts. It was a chance circumstance, a means to find an answer without risking life and limb. Aran may have thought she was thoroughly invested in the reason he was exiled, but she didn’t care that much, not really. It was merely a tactic to get him to talk.
Maeve pinned him with a hard stare. “Why are the dark fae attacking the human lands?”
He didn’t even hesitate. “For the same reason they’re attacking Faeven.”
Maeve waited a beat. Then two. “Which is?”
“That’s two questions.” Aran’s smile was calculated.
It took a full three seconds for her to understand the depth of how he’d tricked her. Rowan laughed out loud, setting her teeth on edge. She shot him a menacing glare, which made him laugh even harder.
“Sorry.” He raised his hands in self-defense. “But the look on your face.”
Even Casimir was amused. He’d at least been smart enough to try and disguise it by pulling his hood down over his head. But his shoulders shook and she knew he was laughing at her, too. She slammed one fist down on the table. Embarrassment scalded her cheeks. It streaked down her neck and flooded her chest with heat.
“Bastard,” she hissed.
