“It’s all right,” I reassure her as she passes them over. “Something you want to talk about?”
She shakes her head, but I keep an eye on her as I place the last few items in the wagon, watching the way she scans the distance for an approaching rider, and I’d have to be a half-wit not to realize what’s bothering her.
As well as a liar to pretend it’s not bothering me, too.
“He’ll be back before we leave,” I say gently, and the effect is immediate. Her spine straightening and her chin jutting up as she crosses her arms.
“I know,” she says.
“Of course,” I reply with a nod, but given the way her teeth are digging into her poor bottom lip, I still explain, “He’s scouting ahead. Making sure the coast is clear for us to come into town.”
“Right,” she replies, continuing to sound a bit worried when she asks, “Do you think it might not be?”
I shrug, reaching for a rope in the wagon to tie a few items down more securely. “Aiden has a keen nose for trouble. If something is amiss, he’ll know.”
“You put a lot of faith in him.”
“I putallmy faith in him. Well, half of it at least.” I look over my shoulder again to see her brow crease a little in confusion, though she makes an attempt at humor to dispel it.
“Is Aiden another of your gods?” she asks.
I let my grin turn mischevious as my hands easily tie one sturdy knot and then another. “There are certainly times he’d like to think so.”
She chuckles, but the pretty flush on her cheeks remains. “He’s so…”
“He is,” I agree.
Her eyebrows rise. “How do you even know what I was going to say?”
“Because I would have said much the same when I first met him.”
“Howdidyou meet him?” she asks, her curiosity piqued.
“Oh, you know what they say, little bird, adversity makes for strange bedfellows.” I finish strapping down our belongings, turning back to her fully as I say, “He chose to intervene at a very opportune moment.”
Her eyes narrow, her mind thinking through what I’ve said for a while before guessing, “He saved your life?”
“He did. It was some years ago now. I haven’t always been so…discerningwith whom I choose to sit down with at a card table. If I’m being honest, I once had a tendency to pick more out ofboredom than design, and I usually felt all the better if the hands ended up as fists aimed at my face when the evening was done.”
“And now?” she asks, the corner of her mouth curving.
“Now, I’m old enough and wise enough to try to dodge at least a few. Not to mention pretty enough.”
She rolls her eyes, shaking her head again slightly, and the expression reminds me so much of Aiden that I have to press my lips tight together to conceal my smirk as she asks, “Why would you havewantedto get in fights?”
“I wanted to get hurt,” I admit, and her expression falls, that delicate line back in her brow.
“Why would you want that?”
“So that I could hurt them back.” She doesn’t ask why again, and I know this is another case of our three circles intersecting, of there being things in her that remind me of myself just as much as they do of Aiden. I meet her gaze, refusing to let either of us hide as I confirm for her, “Some people don’t deserve forgiveness.”
Her eyes widen a fraction as she studies me, but instead of shying away from what she finds, she takes a step toward it. “And you can decide that over a game of cards? Whether they deserve forgiveness?”
“Not entirely.”
“Then how?”
“I told you, Cora, the game starts long before they take their chair.”