A Dawn of Onyx (The Sacred Stones, #1)(28)

“Hey,” he said more sharply, crouching down and slipping a large hand through the bars to grasp my arm. “Talk to me.”

I winced at the pressure on my forearm. I hadn’t healed myself in hopes of retaining all my power, all my energy, for tonight. He released me instantly, his face contorting in horror. “You’re hurt. Why didn’t you say something?”

“It’s nothing, just a bruise.”

Anger simmered in his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

“I stupidly did it to myself, I was trying to—” What? What was I trying to do? I wasn’t going to tell him I was trying to throw myself out the same window that he did.

He waited for me to continue.

“Doesn’t matter. Why are you down here talking to me? Are you going to tell me anything about yourself, how you escaped? Or just keep irritating me at inopportune times?”

“Is there a more opportune time you would prefer?” he asked, arching a playful brow. “Maybe in the middle of the night? When you are all alone down here, thinking of me?”

I shook my head in exasperation.

He huffed a quiet laugh. “In truth, bird, your cell is the last place I should be, but,” he sighed. “I can’t seem to keep away from you.”

A shiver kissed up my spine.

“Well,” I searched for the right words. “It is nice to not feel completely alone.”

His brows lifted slightly. “I can’t imagine a woman like you feels alone often.”

I shot him a look. “Excuse me!”

“That came out wrong,” he said, dragging a hand over his face to hide a smile. I had to force myself to look down. The dimples. They were killing me.

“I only meant that you are warm and funny and very pleasant to be around. I would assume you are rarely left alone by men or women.”

His words were like a loaf of bread, rising in my chest. Warm and gooey and soft.

But they soured quickly. “You would assume incorrectly. I haven’t had too many friends in my life. Certainly no men. My town was small, very few children my age. Everyone was close to my brother, and I sort of just… tagged along.”

“Then they’re all halfwits. Sounds like a blessing, leaving that collection of huts.”

“Maybe. Sometimes… I don’t know.”

“Tell me. Sometimes what?”

Why did I feel the words bubbling out of me? Words I had folded so deeply inside myself, for so long I had almost successfully forgotten they existed. I forced a slow breath into my lungs.

“Sometimes, I wished for more.”

His eyes flickered, waiting for me to continue.

“Growing up… I didn’t learn much, or meet many people, or try many things. It’s shameful, frankly, how little I know about the world.” I thought about Mari. How much she had seen and learned and lived in her twenty years. I’d bet she was even well-versed in the mysterious, far corners of the continent. Kingdoms I knew nothing of like Jade and Citrine. I shook my head. “In just a few days, I’ve met people here who have seen and done so much more than me. It makes me feel like I’ve barely lived.”

“Why didn’t you leave?”

Fear. Constant and cloying fear that dripped down my neck like thick syrup each and every day.

“I had a lot of responsibilities. I couldn’t,” I said instead.

“That sounds like a load of shit to me.”

I stiffened. “You’re foul.”

“I’m honest.”

My fingers pinched the bridge of my nose. Forget foul—this man was maddening.

“Never mind, I’m going to sleep.”

I made to crawl back to my corner, but he grasped between the bars and wrapped a strong hand around my bare ankle. His touch was firm enough to hold me in place, but gentle around the sensitive skin. A chill ran up my calf and settled between my legs. I shivered.

“Come on, bird. You’ve got no reason to lie to me. Why did you stay?”

“Let go of me.”

He did so at once and without hesitation.

“I told you. My mother was ill. My sister was young. Even before my brother had been sent off to fight in your king’s war, someone had to help take care of them.”

He shook his head and an uncomfortable silence stretched between us like a long and unending sea.

“And I had a person there that I cared about.”

The stranger’s full brows quirked up in interest. “I thought you said no men.”

Halden wasn’t a man. He was… Halden. It was—

I didn’t need to explain myself to this stranger. I opened my mouth to say exactly that.

But he just shook his head. “Nah.”

I crossed my arms. “What do you mean, ‘nah’?”

He shrugged. “He wasn’t much to you.”

“What?”

“You don’t light up when you speak of him. You clearly never think of him. Try again.”

“You’re so dismissive. How could you possibly know that?”

“Trust me, I know these things.” His eyes bored into mine. “Why did you stay?”

Ugh. Enough already. What did it matter, anyway? “I was scared.”

“Of what?”