Page 117 of Fallacies

The hit jolts him back only a foot, and his recovery is so graceful that I’m hesitant to even call it a stumble.

I take advantage of the space it grants me, feeling the weight of his attention as I rush across the room and plant myself closer to the door.

There’s a small seating area between us now—not that that would prevent him from getting to me if he wanted to—but he doesn’t take a single step in my direction.

He simply straightens, turns so he’s facing me fully, and stuffs his hands back into his pockets. The feel of his eyes on me is different now. Like the illusion had been a buffer. A two-way mirror that he can now see perfectly through.

“Hm,” is all he says. An impossible-to-decipher grunt of some kind.

“Hm?”

He rolls his lips together, and I’m pretty sure it’s an attempt to smother a smile. “Just not what I expected.”

“What’s your proposition?” I change the subject, my impatience clear in my tone, but he doesn’t react to it at all. Isn’t threatened by it in the slightest.

Inclining his head in my direction, he says simply, “I will help you free your people if you help me with something in return.”

I snort. “Something in return? Do I look stupid to you?”

He slowly shakes his head.

“And what makes you think I need your help?”

“Aside from where I found you this evening?”

I can hear the sarcasm in his voice, but I choose to ignore it. “Yes. Aside from that.”

My response renders him speechless for a moment, and for what feels like an insanely long stretch of time, he just stares at me.

Mindful of his game now, I school my features into neutrality, locking away any emotion he might try to decipher on my face.

“You’re trying to take down the ward, right?” He says finally, and it takes momentous effort to keep my expression blank.

“That’s okay. It was a rhetorical question. You’re here to free the Captures and to do that, you have to take down the ward. You know that much. But what you haven’t figured out is how to do it. Am I right?”

There’s no hiding the deflation of my shoulders, or the deep breath I inhale as I swallow my pride—as much of it as I can muster—and nod.

Happy with my confession, he rocks back on his heels, taking one long step around the chair in front of him. One long step towards me. “That’s a problem.”

I grit my teeth. “And I’m guessing you know how to fix my problem.”

“I do.”

Moonlight hits his back as he crosses the small sitting area. I take another step towards the door, but he doesn’t stop. His pace is slow enough that I don’t feel the urge to run just yet, but I do have a strong desire to stay as close to the exit as possible.

“And as a gesture of my goodwill,” he comes to a stop before me, “I’ll tell you.”

Goodwill? Doubtful. “What’s it going to cost me?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t…bullshit…Lucina.” His voice curls around the curse as if it’s foreign to him. “All wards are powered by a source, yes?”

I remain skeptical as I nod.

“Their source is what keeps them intact,” he tells me. “So, you take away the source⁠—”