impossible even with the Myad, given Wynn held a seat of his own. But if I could just get the beast… If I could show up and take them by surprise, even the Crown of the Council would have to listen. A Myad wouldn’t bond with someone as evil as they believed me to be.
Dropping my eyes to the table, I ran my fingers along the smooth wood grain. My exile was a farce. A by-product of Wynn experimenting on a living creature and then using a Gyss to make the Council believe it had been me all along.
Noc cleared his throat. “I wonder what other sights you’ve missed.”
My head jerked up. Taking a slow sip from his drink, he peered at me over his glass, empathy there and gone in a flash. Was he going to drop it? Just like that? A swell of gratitude bloomed in my chest, and a soft smile captured my lips. “I’ve seen enough. Beasts live everywhere.”
He set his glass down. “Really? Let’s see what you know.”
“What?” I eyed my untouched water, suddenly wishing I’d ordered something stronger. The table beside us burst into laughter as a pile of whittled sticks toppled over. One man cursed, shoving a mound of bits to the center and breaking a stick in half. They’d go on like that until only one stick remained and the pot reached astronomic proportions.
“True or false—Kings Isle is guarded by two warrior statues at the mouth of the bay.”
I blinked. “Seriously?”
The ring on his pointer finger clinked against his glass, and he offered me a nearly boyish grin. “You don’t know?”
My heart fluttered, and I folded my arms across my chest as if that would somehow hide what his smile did to me. “False. It’s three women—the child, the mother, and the elder.”
That smile only grew. “Excellent.”
“My turn.” I leaned forward, resting my chin in my hands. Noc’s raised glass paused in midair, and a spark flared behind his normally distant gaze. “The Kitska Forest is littered with monsters Charmers can’t tame.”
He pursed his lips before taking another sip. “True.”
“Damn it.” Tipping my head to the ceiling, I hid my smile from him.
“Point for me.” His sharp stare contrasted with the lazy dance of his fingers across the rim of his glass, and it ushered my pulse into erratic territory. He was almost catlike in the way he approached our conversations. Aloof and distant, but when the right thing struck his interest, he was suddenly warm, if not a bit mischievous.
Calling him a beast would be too high a compliment, but he was close.
“What was the First King’s name?”
I rolled my lower lip into my mouth. The First King wasn’t exactly a talking point in Charmer society. He was responsible for the only war our people had ever been forced to suffer through and, as such, deserved nothing more than his title. “I can’t say.”
He sucked an ice cube, let it fall back into his glass. “It’s Huxley Farnsled. By the way, I would’ve also accepted ‘King.’ He despised his name, so he forced his subjects to refer to him as such at all times. Even his wife.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Really? How do you know all this?”
“I like to read.”
My mind raced. I needed practical information, then. Something he couldn’t possibly pull from a book in his library. I drummed my fingers on the table. Stopped. “What beast has the ability to change its constitution depending on its master’s desires?”
He arched a brow. “I already told you my beast knowledge is thin.”
“Giving up so easily?”
His grin sharpened. “If you want to play dirty, sure. I’ll give. But I won’t play fair, either.”
My pulse kicked up a notch as heat bloomed down my neck. “Okay.”
“Which assassin is responsible for the bloodletting of Sloane Saint-Germant?”
So much for dirty. “You got me.”
Leaning forward, he laughed—low and a little rusty, as if he didn’t often get a chance. “I know. Shall we go back to an even playing field?”
Gods, what that look did to me. It was impossible not to dip my face toward his. Everything about him was magnetic. “Yes, please.”
His gaze flitted to my mouth and then back to my eyes. And then he abruptly sat back in his chair, smile strained and voice cool. “Let’s see…”
I cursed at myself for moving in too quickly, but sent silent thanks to the gods that there was still lingering interest in his eyes. Not entirely lost, then. We continued this game of wits through