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“He’s innocent of the crime you’ve condemned him for, and I intend to prove it.”
“And you know he’s innocent, how?”
“There is no evidence.”
“Despite my witnessing the murder?”
“Forgive me but I feel you must be mistaken. What did you witness exactly?”
“Do you believe Devere incapable of killing?” he asked, plowing over my question.
“He comes across as quite hostile, but he has a soft soul.”
“A soft soul? Truly? Then if I were to suggest your parents’ deaths were no accident and perhaps Devere might know more, what would you say to that?”
I smiled back at the lord. “I’d say that baseless accusations are dangerous things. I might also be inclined to thank him. You didn’t answer my earlier question. Whatdidyou witness?”
“I’m rather more interested in what Devere witnessed over a decade ago. Your parents were cruel to you, no?”
Before I’d realized my error, I tasted wine on my lips. My heart hiccupped. I coughed, but it was too late. I’d swallowed.
What was a little wine? Probably nothing. I’d consumed it the last time I was here… and that had not ended well. It was only a sip. “My history has no relevance in Jacapo’s case,” I rushed on.
“I think it does. I think it’s very relevant. Is murder ever justified, Mr. Anzio?”
“Murder, no. In some cases, self-defense—” I wiped my damn hand on my trouser leg. Perspiration beaded down the back of my neck.
“What of vengeance? An eye for an eye?” he asked.
I sighed. He was relentless, and this was going nowhere. We’d talk around and around in circles when we both knew the entire subject of the conversation was a silly fantasy to please him. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Vengeance seems the sort of thing a man like you would enjoy.”
“What makes you say that?” He smirked. “We barely know each other. Indeed, we’ve only just met.”
“You know, I suppose I’ve been away so long that I have forgotten how it works, but I was under the impression you’re incapable of lying.”
“Oh?” His eyebrows lifted. “Incapable how?”
I was sure I’d read within the old book’s pages that fae could not lie. But now, under his gaze, I couldn’t recall the exact paragraph. And hehadlied, over and over. Perhaps I was mistaken? I tasted more wine, cursed, and slammed the glass down. Was hemakingme drink it?
“Is the wine not to your liking? I’ll have another bottle brought in—”
“No. I’m not thirsty.”
“Or hungry, it seems. You haven’t touched the food.”
“Or… hungry.” The roasted chicken, mountain of glazed vegetables, hams, fruits, and cheeses did look delicious.
“Lies,” he abruptly said.
“What?”
“You were accusing me of being a truthful man, I believe.”
“No, that’s not…” I pulled at my cuffs. “No. What I mean is, in some hands, lies can be taken and twisted into truth. Fantasy can become reality to a damaged mind.”
“A mind like yours?”
“Mine. What? No.” I laughed, though it sounded strained. The table tilted so violently that I thrust my hands down to keep from tipping over. In a blink, everything was as it had been. No twisting table, no spinning room. Goodness, it was hot. I shot to my feet. “You know, I think I just need—”
