He raised a brow as if he didn’t believe me. “You’re sure?”
“I don’t think so,” I said, “but it’s possible I may have heard of them. I think…” I tried to think of everything I’d ever heard of the Hemlit royalty. “No, if I’ve heard anything of your parents, I don’t remember it. I might have heard of your grandparents, but I’m a little unsure.”
“How are you unsure?” he asked.
“Well… my mother knew King Dustan and Queen Ember. She talked about them often enough that I remember their names. She said they’d been very kind to her when she was young. But, you’re obviously not Dustan. I don’t remember their children’s names, but I think I would have recognized them. So, I’m guessing you’re a grandchild… or else you’re not related, and you came to the throne through a challenge?”
He huffed. “Dustan and Ember were my grandparents. What do you know of them?”
I rolled my lower lip inside my teeth. I didn’t want to remember the details wrong. “It’s obviously been a long time since she mentioned them, but I think she might have lived with them for a time. I really don’t remember much besides her saying that they’d helped her, and she had information that would help them—or their son, if he was king. That’s why she set off to come here.”
Mylo’s jaw fell and his eyes widened so big I thought they might explode. The king managed to keep his face impossibly unreadable while he asked, “And is there any reason why you might want me or my parents or my grandparents hurt or killed?”
“No.” I had to fight back tears. I hated how he kept askingme this. I pushed the tears into anger. “Not unless you count imprisoning me or nearly killing my brother.”
His voice lowered to a husky growl. “And is that not enough to wish us harm?”
“No,” I whispered. “It’s enough to wish you were kind.”
He stared at me, his green eyes trying to dig out any unspoken secrets. But he wouldn’t find anything. I’d always said whatever came to my mind. If he couldn’t believe the truth, then he had bigger problems than whatever fears a half-fae-half-human might present to him.
He extended the giant volume in his hands. I looked at the book, and he waved it up and down. “Take it.”
I shifted my gaze up to him, unsure of his motives. Was it some kind of trick?
“It’s a book,” he said. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to hurt you with it.”
But he’d been so angry the last time I’d seen him.
He’d also said he wouldn’t hurt me—at least as many times as I’d told him I didn’t want to hurt his people.
How could I expect him to believe me if I couldn’t believe him?
I took his book, clenching my teeth in case it erupted into flames.
Nothing happened.
I read the title:Solantum’s Recent History of Hemlit. Was he letting me read a real book after all?
Emotions swirled in my throat as he spoke. “Koan told me you wanted to read history. This is the most thorough and boring volume on the subject. I hope…” His voice caught.
I raised my gaze to his. Did I hear a break in his empty expression? A vulnerable emotion? The possibility pushed tears out of the corner of my eye. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t imagine what he thought he was risking by giving me decent reading material, but it felt like a peace offering—a strange extension of trust despite all the unjustified fears he had of me.
“I hope you enjoy it,” he finished. Then he glanced at Mylo. “Also, if Mylo consents to supervising you, you are free to leave the room. You can explore the tower and the main levels of the castle, or the grounds, frozen as they are. Do not go into the lower stone levels.”
My heart soared. I was allowed out of the room! I thought our conversation last night had been a disaster, but now… now I had every bit of hope that my life in Hemlit would someday be as open and free as it had been in the hills.
Mylo looked even more surprised than I felt. The king gave me a short, jerky nod, and then strode away.
“Thank you.” I intended to call it out, as loud as his drekkan voice, so he could hear my gratitude easily, but my throat was too constricted. The words came out breathy, like I’d run across the mountains to speak them.
I didn’t think he’d heard me, and I braced to shout it louder, but he stopped. I clamped my mouth shut, nearly biting my lip. What was he thinking?
He turned slowly, and the emotions I’d first felt when he came to the dungeon returned in full force. He had more power than I’d ever felt before, but he kept it under a tight control—a control that was almost as attractive as the kindness and trust he’d just offered me.
Once he held my gaze, he spoke slowly in the same low,emotional voice. “It is my honor.” He looked at me for a few more seconds, and then marched away.
I clutched the book closer to my chest. What did he mean by it all? Did he believe I didn’t want to hurt him or his people? Had I convinced him that all fae were not evil? Why had he looked so horrified last night when I told him about my mother? And why was he being so generous now?
