Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles #1)(17)

When I enter the room where Gavin waits in his clear glass cell, I am hesitant. I do not wish to see him. I must continue my cross-stitching after practicing my violin. There is much to prepare for—Mother has told me I will meet another Suitor tonight. One she has handpicked. If he is a good match, then we will be Coupled. This pleases me immensely.

The Guards let me in, and Gavin smiles when he sees me. I don’t smile back. I don’t even want to be here.

His smile falters. “Is something wrong?”

“My life is just about perfect.” My voice is rough and scratchy like I accidentally drank seawater instead of fresh.

He knits his brow together. “O-kay, but that’s not really what I meant.”

“I am not your friend. I am here for answers,” I say shortly, and begin to examine his shoulder. I don’t know how I could ever think he was attractive. He’s dirty and grungy. The hair starting to grow on his face gives him a wicked, shadowed look.

Maybe if he took a bath, I think.

He narrows his eyes and steps closer. I back up. I do not wish to stand so close to him. He does not smell good at all. I lift my handkerchief up to my nose.

He is not my friend. I am only here for answers.

“How are you?” He reaches a hand out, presumably to touch me.

I step away so his hand falls short. “Don’t touch me.”

“Why?”

I meet his eyes once before letting them flit away. “Why what, Mr. Hunter?”

“Mister? You were calling me Gavin last time.”

My fingers pleat the skirt of my dress. “It was highly inappropriate. I apologize for my forwardness.”

“Something is wrong.” There is a hint of frustration and worry in his tone. “Did your mother threaten you?”

“Certainly not.” I finally meet his eyes again and notice they are a beautiful gray. Almost silver in this light. What an unusual color. I didn’t even know eyes could be that color. They remind me of the charm around my neck.

“Then what’s going on?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I force myself to focus on something else—anything that isn’t his eyes. It is harder than I would have thought. “I am only here for answers.”

Gavin shakes his head. “Not like this. Something’s wrong with you.”

I settle for hands. Hands aren’t pretty. They’re functional. “My life is just about perfect.”

He paces the room. “Yes, yes, you just said…” He trails off and then spins toward me. “Wait. Why did you say that again?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Because it is the truth.”

His eyes narrow and he comes back over, walking a circle around me. My eyes follow him. I’m not sure if it’s to make sure he doesn’t do anything, or for some other reason. “There’s something not right here. Where did you go? Where have you been? It’s been forever. The Guards have changed twice.”

“That is none of your business,” I snap. “Please remember with whom you are speaking.”

His eyes flash. “I know exactly who I’m talking to. I’m talking to Evelyn. The girl who probably saved my life. For which I’m grateful.”

I stare at the wall behind his head. It’s damp and chipped in places. He’s only using me to get the answers he needs to find a way out of here.

“Fine.” Gavin sits back down on the floor. His expression is … hard to read. “You want answers?” he asks. “So do I. We’ll continue on with our earlier arrangement. One question, one answer.”

I slowly lower myself to the floor and wrinkle my nose at the dirt. My pretty dress is going to get stained. The Maids will probably have to burn it, and it’s brand new. Mother bought it not a week ago.

“I cannot promise to answer all your questions.” I straighten my skirt over my knees, taking care to make sure they’re completely covered.

He gives me a hard smile. “Then, neither can I.”

I purse my lips. “That is an acceptable arrangement. I will go first.”

His smile turns smug. “Fine.”

I recall the list of questions Mother made me memorize before leaving her. “Do you know where the door you entered from is?”

He scrubs at a dirt spot on his knee, only succeeding in making it worse. “Yes.”

I wait, but he does not volunteer any more information. “Where is it?” I ask.

He looks at me, amusement in his eyes. “Uh-uh. One question, one answer.”

I close my eyes against the anger rolling under the surface. Anger is a poison and will eat away at your beauty. I take a deep, calming breath—Calming lavender in. Green, poisonous anger out—before opening my eyes. “Very well. What is your question?”

He doesn’t even hesitate. His eyes are directly on mine, so intense I have to focus on not squirming. “Where did you go after you left here?”

“My Therapist. Where is the door?”

He furrows his brow and is silent for a minute. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks, as if he’s talking to a petulant child. “I’m not sure how to get there, but it wasn’t very far from your gardens. They’re very pretty, by the way.”

I don’t know what that has to do with anything. “What are?”