CHAPTER 82
ZORA
“Are you going to kill me when I tell you where the eyelet is?” It’s a fair question, because I’m walking with ease now. I only have a day or two at best before Farin expects me to lead him to it.
Farin raises his brow. “Would you believe me if I told you no?”
“Depends on how convincing you are.”
“I like to think I can be rather convincing when I want to be.” He allows his gaze to trace over me, as he so often does. “No, I don’t intend to kill you.”
“But you’re capable of lying now.”
“I told you that you wouldn’t believe me, regardless.”
“I’m open to the concept. I just need to be given a reason.”
Farin sighs, setting down the piece of wood he’s been whittling into a shiv and looking at me. “Because I like you, Wanderer. And it’s a rather rare occasion that I find someone I actually do like, so no, I’d rather not kill you. Not that I wouldn’t if I found it necessary, but I’d really rather you not make it necessary.”
My chest caves in slightly, but if Farin is trying to persuade me, he’s doing it in the best way possible. He’s not trying to win me over with flattery.
There’s something about someone telling you they’d kill you if they had to that makes you more willing to believe everything else they say is true, too.
Even if it hurts.
It shouldn’t hurt.
Farin is not my friend.
He and I have a common goal. And personalities that jive rather well given the circumstances.
The circumstances being that he’s the murderer who stabbed me so he could make it back to the woman my brother loves.
Now, as to whether I want to consider why my personality jives so well with that of a killer’s, the answer is I don’t. And I won’t. At least not until we find a way off this island.
“The eyelet moves,” I say with a heavy sigh.
Farin’s brows raise.
“If someone enters it before me, it moves. I don’t know how or where or why it does, but it never goes away completely.”
“How do you know this?”
“Because it’s happened before.”
“Hm,” Farin says.
“That’s all you have to say?”
“It’s not the most useful information you’ve offered me, Wanderer. Unless this world is contained to this island alone, it’s not much to go off of.”
“There are other ways to find it,” I say.
“Is that so? And what are they?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you,” I say, and though there’s teasing in my tone, Farin turns his head slowly toward me.
He shrugs. “Dying at your hands doesn’t seem like the worst way to go.”
Ugh.
“What? You’re not going to threaten me with my life if I don’t tell you?”
A moment later, Farin is upon me, grabbing my wrists and pinning me to the wall.
“Is that what you’d like, Wanderer? For me to threaten you?”
My breath quickens, and so does my heart. The part of me that values self-preservation says it’s fear that’s causing my body’s reaction. The part of me that knows better tells me it’s something more.
His thumb finds the bone of my left wrist and traces circles into it, his forehead dropping until it’s nearly resting on mine.
My head spins, dizziness overtaking me, but Farin says nothing, does nothing, like he’s patiently waiting for me to make the next move.
Like a predator that lurks in the tall grass, waiting for its prey to flee, lest it cut the chase short.
This will not end well for me, I’m sure of it now.
Hero or villain?
