“Why not make it even?”
“Because it is a mark of something I survived in the catacombs, and a simple slice could belong to anyone.” Hegrabbed his tunic and tugged it back over his head, hiding the wound. “This will always be a reminder of where it came from.”
I considered that, reluctant to admit it was somewhat poetic. Godsdamned fae probably thought I couldn’t understand that either with my small human mind. Well, this human had managed to get him to hint toward what he couldn’t share of the Gods, and that was important.
“And by the way, you were wrong about one thing you said, Bounty.”
I glowered at the name. “What?”
“You said my kind care so little about life and beauty.” He paused. “I can assure you, I appreciate beauty more than most.”
He stomped up the stairs, leaving me in the echoing silence of the dining room.
I was dunkingmy tools in disinfecting tonic when footsteps sounded down the stairs.
“Can I help clean up?” Celissia asked.
“Sure, if you want to start gathering the towels and sorting them into those we can salvage and those we’ll discard, that would be great. Thank you.”
She nodded, and I turned back to the bucket. Thank the Gods Harlen had arranged for this inn to be private. I didn’t know how we would have handled tonight otherwise. With so many deep injuries, access to the kitchen and dining room were imperative.
Plus, there was something comfortable about working here. Organizing my supplies along the worn bar top was familiar.
“Santorina?” Celissia asked after a moment, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Why are you helping the fae?”
I sighed, letting the metal tools rest in the bucket. “He may be a twisted, deadly, entitled predator”—Celissia snorted a barely audible laugh—“and he may be bred tohuntme, but my mother was a healer.”
Celissia sobered. “Was?”
“She died during the first war.” I turned to start re-corking my various jars of supplies and noting which would need to be refreshed. “A fatality of an attack on Palerman.” The memory of that day tightened my chest, but I breathed through it.
She approached the bar, setting down a pile of folded towels. “I’m sorry for all the pain these wars have brought between the clans. So much of it seems unnecessary for the masses.”
“It does,” I agreed. “But Ophelia was the one who picked me up when my parents died, so I’ll face anything for her.”
Celissia smiled softly. “As I would for Barrett. He supported me similarly when we were young. I didn’t suffer a loss like your own, but in my worst moments, Barrett was always there.” She spoke of the prince with such tenderness, one that he’d earned based on what I’d seen of him.
“He’s going to make a great king,” I said. “A leader the world needs.”
Celissia cast a wistful glance toward the stairs. “I only hope he sees that, too. He’s the only person I can envision ruling our clan the way they deserve.”
“Is that why you agreed to the ruse with him?”
“He didn’t even need to ask,” she said. “That, and, selfishly, I’ve always dreamed of seeing the world. Of getting away from Banix for a while.”
“I’ve heard your father…”
“My father should not hold power,” Celissia snapped. It was clearly not directed at me, so I let her continue. “He’s fine as a councilman, likely balances out some more impertinent decisions, but as a ruler?” She scoffed. “I fear him.”
“Why?” From what we’d been told, he was greedy, but dangerous?
“Some people base their hopes on injustices that have already been redeemed. They get stuck on them. I think he believes he’s fighting for a worthy cause, when truly, it’s one that does not involve him.”
“What sort of cause?” I asked.
“The kind that, frankly, I think wants to be forgotten.” Celissia shrugged, picking up a pile of bloodied rags and moving toward the door.
She disappeared outside, ducking back in as I was finishing tidying the bar. “Your mother was human, correct?”
