My gaze darts to Osrik for a second, but the man is stony. I can’t get a read on the behemoth at all. No surprise there.
In my lap, my ribbons swivel from the adrenaline sweeping through me. There’s no possible way he can see them, and yet, Rip’s eyes fall to the edge of the table before lifting back to my face.
The soup sours in my stomach, acid crawling up the back of my throat.
“Keep a lie for a lie, or tell a truth for a truth. What’s it going to be, Auren?” he asks, voice like dark honey, wicked and tempting.
My breath breaks apart. Like it froze in my chest, a brittle, sharp thing with nowhere to go.
The truth… Such a complicated thing.
The problem with truths is that they’re like spices. Add a little, and it can enrich things, let you experience more layers. But if you pour out too much, it becomes unpalatable.
My truths seem to always ruin the meal.
And yet, I almost want to blurt it out. To say what I haven’t said. To shrug off the weight of my secrets. Just to surprise him—to put him on his back foot and catch him off guard.
It’s tempting, like the way firelight must tempt the moth.
The promise of light draws me in, but I know that if I open my mouth, the truth will burn me up.
I clamp my lips shut.
Rip smirks and leans back, a victorious opponent sitting smugly across from me. I hate him, and yet somehow, I hate myself just a little bit more.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say evenly as I get to my feet, all emotion drained out of my voice.
I’m suddenly exhausted and bent. A blade of grass trampled beneath stomping feet.
Osrik moves to get up, the silent observer of the room, but I look at him dismissively. “Don’t worry, I’ll find my own way back to my kennel. That’s what a good pet does, right?” I taunt.
I turn and walk out without waiting for the commander to dismiss me, without even getting his permission. But thankfully, he doesn’t stop me, and Osrik doesn’t follow.
For now, my unpalatable truths are still sitting safely on the back of my tongue, everlasting with their bittersweet bite.
Chapter 14
AUREN
Hood up, hands tucked into pockets, I observe the soldiers from the nook I found—a shallow notch in the blue iced cave, just big enough for me to sit in.
The spot is perfect for me to keep isolated, while close enough that I can see the bonfire built into the middle of the hollow hill.
The icicles on the ceiling are dripping from the heat of the flames. Puddles have collected on the ground, but no one seems to mind. They’re too happy to be out of the snow.
The savory smell coming from the spit turning over the fire tells me that somehow, they managed to find fresh meat out in this frozen wasteland. My mouth waters at the scent, but that won’t tempt me to go closer. I’ll have to be satisfied with the soup and bread I got.
Bright side, at least I ate before I stormed out. Next time, I’ll make sure to stay until I’ve had the wine too.
I stay pressed against the sleek ice wall as I watch everyone. I can’t help but be curious about them, to look for their faults, to study their interactions. For all Rip’s bluster about trusting his soldiers, I like to see them for myself. I also like to do it from afar.
I suppose it’s not unusual, after being kept mostly isolated for so many years. For the most part, I still crave interaction with people, despite my unfortunate history. But sometimes, being around so many without the protection of my cage lights me up with sparking nerves. You can’t trust people.
Especially a crowd of them. And this crowd? They’re supposed to be the evilest, the deadliest.
But the more I watch them, the more I realize that they simply don’t fit that narrative. They aren’t a bloodthirsty group with rotted hearts and corrupted morals. They’re just people. They’re an enemy army, yes, but they aren’t monstrous. Not that I’ve seen, at least.
And Rip…