Page 42 of Crown of Flame
“Before I dropped you off at the hovel,” he tells me, “you insisted that it meant nothing and that I was just using you for sex. It’s been a long time, and you still haven’t apologized for that.”
I grunt, more frustrated than I can articulate.
“I’m sorry then,” I reply. “I’m sorry I assumed that you were only keeping me around because you wanted to have sex with me.”
“Whatever.”
We stop where we always stop before any dramatic fallout, with the visible towers that both brought us together and tore us apart in the background.
“I know something else is wrong.”
He doesn’t say anything for a solid minute. He just stares. Finally, he speaks. “Would you still keep me around if I wasn’t valuable to you? If I wasn’t powerful?”
“What do you mean?”
I try to act kind, moving in toward him to try to comfort him. But as soon as I approach him, I feel overwhelmed by his heat.
Something is wrong. If I move any closer, I know that he will burn me.
“I mean that from the moment I’ve met you, I’ve done everything you asked. I helped you free the towers, then I freed two more. I fed the captives. I even became intimate with you…”
“You wanted that. I know you did.”
He nods. “Okay. You’re right.”
“What else aren’t you telling me?” I ask.
He stares down at the ground, as though afraid to ask the question on his mind. But eventually, he breaks the silence.
“How are you connected to the dark elves? Those pointy-eared creatures that imprisoned you?”
I shake my head, not able to believe that he’s making me address my trauma directly.
“We’ve been over this. They captured and enslaved me. Then they were going to use me against my will.”
He floats in place, and the jets of flame that shoot beneath him, keeping him propelled, now unnerve rather than calm me.
“I don’t think that’s all it is.”
“Okay, Cinis,” I say. “Fine. Explain this to me. Why would I be working with people who ruined my life and killed everybody I love?”
He hovers, not saying anything.
“I hate the dark elves. I will always hate the dark elves. You’re reopening wounds I thought were closed forever, just mentioning them. Do you know what it’s like, watching people you care about be killed in front of you without a thought? For the fun of it?
I sigh in frustration. “By the gods. I don’t know if you noticed, but I just got done reliving the worst experiences of my life. And now you, a mind-reading creature–”
“I don’t read minds,” he interjects.
“You sure as hells did earlier, which I’m pretty sure is why we’re fighting. But what do I know?”
He fumes. “You think I can control any part of what I am or what I’m able to do? If you’re uncomfortable with any of it, just call me an outsider. Call me a freak.”
“I never once said you were a freak! I don’t even know how you know that word. I just wish you’d respect my mental privacy a little more. People aren’t supposed to know the things you do.”
He widens the distance between us, and I’m afraid he might abandon me in the frozen wasteland.
I have to de-escalate this. If I’m abandoned out here, I could be in big trouble.