It’s hard not to admire the kind of male who inspires such caution even when he’s stuck behind bars.
When I get to the dungeons, he’s lying on his cot with his hands crossed behind his head, whistling. Beneath his nose, a trail of dried blood is still visible.
I guess the twins weren’t as restrained as I hoped.
“Wolf-boy!” He grins, pushing himself up so he’s sitting. “I wondered when they were going to send someone with grit down to question me.”
I roll my eyes. “Call me Jaromir.”
“I prefer wolf-boy.”
Goddess, I already want to strangle him. Grabbing a stool which is lying, upended on the floor, I right it and straddle it so I’m facing the bars.
“Make yourself at home. Sorry about the stink of piss and blood, but my fellow inmates aren’t as well house-trained as I am.”
Deep breaths. “How did you get into the palace grounds?”
“I walked,” he deadpans, and I scowl as the lie washes over me. “My turn, what the fuck happened the night before last that made her scared? And where the fuck does she keep disappearing to for hours?”
Interesting. So Caed feels the Call when she panics as well. I wondered if it would work the same, given that he’s a different species. Fomorians don’t have mates—as far as we can tell—so he must be completely out of his depth with the instincts that come with it.
“I’m not answering that. You don’t deserve to know.”
Something dark flickers in his eyes for a second, but it’s gone before I can determine what it is.
“A truth for a truth then,” he offers, leaning forwards to rest his elbows on his knees.
What is he doing? He’s not fae, but he has to know if he makes that bargain with one of us, he’ll be bound to it.
“Fine.” I’m intrigued enough to accept. “Rose fell from her horse and spends her evenings going on dates with Lorcan. Now answer my question.”
He smirks. “I think your pelt would make a wonderful rug in my bedroom.”
“That wasn’t the deal,” I growl.
He cackles, falling back against the wall. “I promised you a truth, Fae. Joke’s on you for not being more specific.”
That bastard. I should’ve realised he’d use the oldest trick in the book, but I underestimated him because he isn’t fae. I stupidly assumed he wouldn’t play our games.
My hands tighten on the stool, and I work hard not to lose my temper. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’d make an excellent unseelie.”
He grins. “Oh good. If I have to be lumped in with the losing side, at least I get to be one of the cool kids.”
I roll my eyes, because I’m used to the incorrect assumption that unseelie are more dangerous than seelie. Whoever came up with that theory has clearly never met King Eero.
Or me.
“I have all day.” Although I’d rather be done by the time Rose finishes her lessons, so I can steal her away. “I can sit here for as long as it takes.”
“How about we use that time to discuss my living arrangements?” he suggests. “I think I really deserve one of those fancy garden rooms with easy access to my mate, don’t you?”
“No.” I’ll join him in the dungeons before I let that happen. “How did you get over the wall?”
“Ooh, is this interrogation?” Lore’s giddy voice echoes off the stone walls. “My favourite game. Let me get the knives…”
The redcap pops into existence beside me, balancing a wickedly serrated curved dagger in one hand. “This is my favourite. Hey, has anyone ever figured out why his kind bleed red but their skin is blue? Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I don’t have to become a bluecap every time I decide to go on a murderous spree, but don’t you think it’s a little odd?”
Oh great. Between the sarcastic Fomorian and the psychotic redcap, I’m probably going to reach my mental limit pretty soon.