Page 86 of The Lure of Wolves and Whispers
“Why would a prince help a peasant?”
The prince takes the empty cup from my hands and places it on a side table, one thumb looping through the pocket of his rich brown hose just where the velvet tunic meets the straight cut of his hips. “I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you, Cashel, for saving my life.’?”
“I know the words I meant!”
Old Ones, the nerve of him.
All I want to do is smack the infuriating smile spreading across his mouth. I clench my fists, but pain rips over my palms again. Whatisthat?
He glances down at my hands. “Nerve damage. It won’t ever fully heal, but it should fade in a few months. Probably. You’re lucky I was there to help you right away.”
Months?Probably? Fuck.
“Is that right?” There’s no hiding the bitterness in my voice as the pain sears through me. Hurt and fear mingle at the edges of me,but I push the feelings away and turn them into something useful. Something that bites. “Because from where I’m sitting, it feels like all of this is your fault. Making everyone compete over you.”
The whole set of his lean body tenses. “You think I want any of this?”
“I think you’re aprince.” The word comes out like an insult.
“Exactly,” he snaps.
Silence stretches between us, completely at odds with the brilliant sunlight bathing the room.
He lets out a terse breath. “Look. If it was up to me, none of this would be happening. I could choose a partner for myself.” His eyes snap up to mine, and I shiver at the cold resignation there. “I think we both know who’s pulling the strings on this isle right now.”
There are too many insinuations behind his words. Too many lethal questions I can’t dare voice.
I start with an easier one. “Where am I? Who else is…” My throat scratches, and I cough. “Who else is dead? And where is…” I almost say Talon, but something stops me. “My guard?”
Cashel’s eyes narrow. “My own gardai are outside the door, like always. You can bet your ass I’m not having you plus a guard I don’t know and don’t trust in a room with this many daggers in it.”
He taps at the side table, spread out with every one of my blades.
Damn it.
I’m completely defenseless, lying here in his bed. My palms feel like they’re made of thorns, and my eyes sting at the pain. I shift topics. “It was creatlach, wasn’t it?”
“How do you—?” Cashel startles, then rubs a hand over hisface. “Yes, it was creatlach. It’s one of my stepmother’s favorites.”
A tiny flicker of pride flares in my chest. I was right. But the implication behind his words dangles in the air. “And you just happened to have the antidote handy?”
“Live long enough with her trying to poisonyou, and you’d learn what to keep on hand for the next time she bribes a healer to be indisposed too.”
He scowls, memories darkening his navy eyes. I hate that I’m learning how to decipher the shifting colors. I don’t want to know that they gleam a lighter sapphire when he teases me and turn the exact shade of storm clouds when I hit a nerve.
Still, a look I can’t read ripples over Cashel’s features. His midnight stare turns probing. “Well… if you aren’t going to thank me, then I have some questions.”
Warning bells ring in my head.
There’s no one here to help me. He could have one of the knives Wolf gave me at my throat in an instant. No gardai would come running in for me.
I meet the exacting chill of his gaze. “I’m an open book.”
“You’re not, but let’s ignore for a second the fact that you seem to lie as easily as you breathe.” His intent stare chills me. “Who brought you here?”
The knot that’s lived in my stomach since I got here clenches painfully. “The gardai.”
“No. Don’t play games with me.” He steps forward from the wall. A harsh light snaps in his gaze. “I know the girl who was here first isn’t here anymore. Someone cleared a path for you to take her place. I want to know who.”
