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She scented the air and that intoxicating herbal scent filled her nostrils.
Wild. Unpredictable. Dangerous.
Home.Part of her whispered.
Rion interrupted the silence first. “One would think someone as cursed as I wouldn’t appeal to the Fairy Folk. A minor error from the gods I’m sure.”
Arianna cradled her elbow. “I wasn’t aware the gods made mistakes. Isn’t that why they’re gods?”
“One would think.”
Arianna struggled to prevent herself from fidgeting. She yearned for him to talk. She wanted to know everything about him, his hopes, dreams, fears. Arianna wanted to learn about The Demon people claimed was a plague upon Alastríona. A creature who wasn’t supposed to display kindness or compassion. A being put here to wreak havoc upon their land and plunge it into chaos.
Arianna sighed. “I’m so confused.”
He didn’t look at her. “About what?”
“About you. I was raised with certain beliefs. I was told you were someone capable of terrible things.”
“I assure you, I’ve done more than my share of terrible things.”
“But no one ever mentioned you were... normal.”
He barked out a laugh. “Normal? I don’t think anyone, in all my decades of living, has ever referred to me as such.”
“But you are. You have likes and dislikes. Moods. Kindness and compassion.” She paused when he glanced up at her. “Everyone paints you as a monster.”
“Perhaps people only see what they want to see.”
“But why feed into it? Why pretend to be cruel and uncaring if it isn’t true?”
Another swirl of his magic caught one of the Fairy Folk, sending it gently through the air before it settled on the ground again.
“It’s a tiring task to convince those who have already judged you. Fear is simpler.”
Her heart ached. “Don’t you have anyone at home? Someone who sees this side of you?”
He inclined his head toward the Fairy Folk. “You mean someone who’s seen me with them?” Arianna nodded. “No. I’ve never allowed it.”
“It could change their minds.” The Fairy Folk were sacred after all. “Everyone needs someone they can trust.”
“Get betrayed enough and you’ll think differently.”
Betrayal. How often? How many times had he trusted someone only to have them turn on him? And how many of those individuals had he killed?
“Don’t pity me. I’d rather live without ties than suffer with broken ones.”
Something deep in her core split, as if she were feeling the pain he denied himself.
“No,” she whispered. “The real suffering begins when we crave those ties but can’t attain them.”
“Because no one can be trusted.”
“Maybe, but isn’t it worth the risk?”
He raised a brow. “To hurt?”
“To love.”
