"That doesn't match what I've heard of you." "Not so patient," I told her.
"I don't think I'll play your game by myself.
I think the Gray Lords might as well take care of my problems for me." They wouldn't, of course, and I wasn't so stupid as to invite them in.
But I wanted to hear what her reaction would be to it.
She laughed again.
"You do that.
You just do that, Mercedes Thompson.
And if they figure out what you have--and have any inkling that you might know what it is--they will kill you, werewolves or no.
They'd kill you to get it, too--and trust me, it is easier to kill you, human, than it is to bother looking for it wherever you have it stashed." I didn't doubt that she was telling the truth about the Gray Lords.
Fae always tell the truth.
They usually respond to taunts, too--which is why I added a smug tone to my voice as I said, "Most especially because you don't know what it is, either." "The Silver Borne," she said.
She wasn't looking for the book.
I had no idea what "the silver borne" was, but the book was made of leather and embossed with gold; there wasn't anything silver about it.
I had nothing to bargain with for Gabriel.
So we'd have to find them and take him back in such a way that she never bothered us again.
A lot of fairy tales ended "and the evil fairy never bothered them from that day until this." "You don't know what it looks like," I said confidently.
"You think I have it because Phin is dead, and it didn't reveal itself to his killers as it would have if he were in possession of it." I told her as if I knew it to be fact.
"Do you have it?" she asked.
"Maybe he did give it to someone else.
Though if you don't have it, I shall take this beautiful young man as consolation and continue looking for it." I bit my lip.
Phin was dead.
"I have something of Phin's," I said with obvious caution.
In the morning, I'd feel bad about the man who'd stuck his neck out to help me in defiance of the Gray Lords, who loved books and old things--and who'd had a grandmother who'd called him and worried about him.
As things were, I needed to keep my wits.
I was tired, and Adam's pain and fatigue were starting to trickle through me as our bond chose this inconvenient time to begin to mend itself.
"You will not tell the wolves," she said.
"That is the first step.
I will know if you break your word.
Then I will take the boy and redouble my efforts to see you dead." I glanced at the wolves around the table.
"You didn't seem so anxious to kill me that you would risk my mate's ire yesterday morning." She hissed.