He rotates his neck. “I was born on this side of the gate, but there are always stories. Keep it to yourself, Aerinne. The House isn’t in a position to protect you from—” he stops talking.
“From what?”
“Hunters.”
A chill digs into my spine. “What do you mean?”
Now his long look is that of a male deciding whether giving a child information will help protect them, or just blow shit up faster—and take bystanders with them. “It’s a Dark Fae trait,Aerinne. Some will want you dead for that—but the ones who don’t? They’re the ones who are the real threat.”
“I only have one Fae parent.”
He says nothing.
Right. I exhale. I can’t parse all of this right now. “Fine. Fine. I don’t talk about myself anyway.”
“No, that’s one of your redeeming traits. You can keep your mouth shut on secrets even when youshouldn’t?— “
“By the Realms, get over it.”
“—and you’re almost nauseatingly self-effacing.”
I ignore the irrelevant adjective. There’s at least one adult in the room. “I can’t hold the bridge for long though. A uniquely unpleasant experience.”
Édouard laughs humorlessly. “It was unpleasant for the rest of us. They won’t say anything. They’re loyal.”
I nod, pursing my lips because I hate owing anyone a favor. “I had no idea I had this potential, Commander. I wouldn’t have kept something like this from you.”
Despite the advantage I gain from keeping an adversary ignorant of my abilities—modest as I thought they were, though now I have questions.
“The strength and control that ability demonstrates should be beyond you.” His eyes flare with anger again, hard and black as coal. “Unless, as I say, you’ve been holding out on me. Who’s been training you, Aerinne? What favors did you exchange?”
Ah. Not just pissed because I’d surprised him. He thinks I might have compromised the House by seeking tutelage from someone dangerous—which in his worldview would be anyone who isn’t him.
“I can’t say, but I assure you I’m not compromised.”
I may be getting closer to the time where I’ll have to reveal my. . .different personality. But not yet. Not before I figure out how I can teach myself?—
Maybe Darkan is an aspect of my avatar that somehow verbalized, and possesses knowledge passed down through genetics. I am half Fae, it is possible.
“Somehow, you’re lying to me,” he says. His shoulders relax, the anger draining from his face. “Halfling.”
He grabs me and backs me against the nearest wall. I curse, tasting blood in my mouth.
“Fuck! What the fuck are you doing, Édouard?”
There’s a blade at my throat. “You will tell me everything,” he says, menace in his gravelly voice. “And if you don’t. . .”
I narrow my gaze, poised to move the second he shifts that blade. Or maybe I’ll take a cut to make a point—he’s not going to try to actually kill me. If I thought that, I wouldn’t be standing here pretending I’m a possum. He’d be dead. Arddie knows how fast I can move when I want to; or at least he thinks he does.
But I’ll remember this.
“Or what?” I go for the jugular, since we’re playing with knives. “You’ll hurt me? I suppose since my mother died on your watch, you can’t sink any lower.”
He recoils as I thought he would, but with a brief grapple pins me to the wall again. I can’t use the advantage of surprise or underestimation with him.
I don’t think he truly intends to cut me—like all males, he’s theatrical—but the thinnest line splits open my skin.
The air goes arctic.
