“Dana, I appreciate your concern for me,” he said. “But the truth is, you were hurt far more than I was.”
That opened the floodgates, and the waterworks started no matter how hard I tried to hold them off. I covered my face with both hands, still trying for all I was worth to force the tears back into my eyes. Finn nudged me, and before I knew it I found myself in the living room, sitting on the sofa, a real linen handkerchief pressed to my eyes as I bawled like a stupid baby.
Finn didn’t say anything for a long time, letting the most violent waves of emotion settle. I was still sniffling and hiccuping when he finally spoke.
“I’m a Knight of Faerie,” he said. “I have been a Knight since I turned eighteen, and that was … a while ago. I have been run through with swords, shot with arrows and with bullets, tortured in ways I will not describe to you. It is my job, and knowing full well what that job entails, I choose to do it.”
“But they could have killed you!” I protested, trying to wipe away the last of my tears with the soaked handkerchief.
Finn actually grinned. “So could the ones who ran me through, shot me, et cetera. In fact, most of those fully intended to kill me, whereas the Knights today did not.” He turned serious again. “Do not grieve for my pain. But do recognize your own, and let me take care of you.”
I shook my head. “So is cooking dinner part of your job description, too?”
“It is tonight. Let me do this one small thing to help atone for having been used as a weapon against you. Please.”
Back in the good old days, when I lived with my mom, I’d gotten used to winning ninety percent of our arguments. Let’s face it, my will was just flat out stronger than Mom’s. As far as I could remember, I hadn’t won an argument in Avalon yet. And Finn was playing dirty with that whole atonement thing.
“Fine!” I said with poor grace.
But Finn smiled, and I figured I must have done the right thing.
Finn wasn’t exactly ready to challenge Chef Ramsay for supremacy, but he was surprisingly good. Even with the Fae eyes, which always struck me as mildly feminine, he had the manly-man look of a guy whose specialties came out of cans and freezers, but I had to admit, he seemed at least as at home in the kitchen as I did. I can’t say I was comfortable letting him wait on me, but I managed to bite back every protest that tried to escape my mouth.
He was back to his usual taciturn self, but since I now knew he was capable of something resembling a conversation, and since I still had a lot of questions about the attack, I decided to grill him while we were eating.
“Did you know those two Knights?” I asked him.
He deliberately stuffed a meatball in his mouth so he couldn’t answer, but I just tapped my fingers on the table, waiting for him to chew and swallow. If he’d hoped the delay would make me drop the question, he was in for a sad surprise.
“Well?” I prompted.
“Yes.”
“Yes, you knew them?”
He nodded, then shoved more food in his mouth. I was obviously going to have to work for it if I was going to get information out of him.
“So since you knew them, you were able to identify them to the police, and that’s why no one asked me any questions?” That still seemed a bit … off. There’s no way I would have escaped a chat session with the police if this had happened in the United States.
“It’s not a police matter,” Finn said when he finished chewing.
“What? How can that possibly not be a police matter?” My voice had risen almost to a shout, but I forced myself to quiet down. “What kind of backward, crazy-ass place is this?”
His lips twitched, but it was a sorry excuse for a smile, even if he did find my outburst amusing.
“It’s not a police matter because the Knights are from Faerie. I’m sure they were back over the border before the police even got to the shop.”
“Well, aren’t there Fae on the police force? Can’t they go into Faerie after them?”
“Can the U.S. police force chase criminals into foreign countries?” He obviously knew the answer, because he didn’t pause