Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 47: A Simple Riddle

"What did you just say?" Owain asked.

He was staring at Tristan as if he'd just sprouted three heads. The pastries lay on the sideboard, forgotten. Tristan laced his fingers together. He was suddenly painfully aware of the dust motes floating around the room, sticking in his throat like glue.

"Lucia," Tristan said evenly. "Are you working for her?"

Owain blinked. "Why would you ask me that?"

His heart hammered. "Just tell me the truth. You owe me that much."

"I..." Owain ran a hand through his hair. "It's complicated."

A terrible ringing began in his ears. He hadn't believed it, Tristan realized; not fully at least, not until this moment. He knew that Owain had strong ties to his father, had responsibilities to the faerie realm as their prince, but to realize that he was working with them... that Owain had deliberately sided with Lucia...

Bile rose in his throat.

How long had Owain been lying to him for? Weeks? Months?

Perhaps since the first moment they'd met. When Owain had pretended to be a stray cat that he'd taken in. Like a fool, Tristan thought bitterly.

Owain started forward. "Tristan—"

Tristan flinched back. "Don't touch me."

Owain curled his fingers. His face was very pale. "It's not what it looks like. I wrote to my father yesterday. I told him that I was out, that I wanted nothing to do with it anymore. I'm on your side."

"How could you?" Tristan asked, his throat raw.

Owain looked away. "It was the only way that my family would allow me back to court."

"You know what she's like," Tristan said. "The things she's done."

His mouth tightened. "Yes."

Tristan swallowed. He felt dizzy, as if he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. "And you knew that she was back. This whole time, you've known."

Owain shook his head. "I never wanted to lie to you."

"Well," Tristan said, "you've done a pretty damn good job of it." He tugged on a shirt. Not because he was cold, but because he had to do something. It was unbearable, Tristan thought, to just sit there and listen to Owain set fire to everything he knew. "Just tell me this. Is any part of you working with Lucia—?"

"I'm not," Owain cut in.

"Is any part of you," Tristan repeated, ignoring this, "working with Lucia in the hopes that Halson will take you back?"

Shock lanced across Owain's face. "Faolan told you."

"He shouldn't have needed to," Tristan said, looking up. "Because you should have told me."

A beat passed. Owain's jaw worked.

"I'm not proud of my past."

"Answer the question," Tristan said.

Owain's eyebrows shot up. "Are you serious?" Tristan looked at his hands. When Owain spoke again, his voice was edged with pain. "You think I would have kissed you— you think I would have slept in your bed last night if I... if I even thought for a second that..." He exhaled, staring hard at the window. "I only want you, Tristan. That's been the problem since the beginning."

Tristan mechanically gathered his things. Formal jacket. Weapons. A change of trousers. Owain stood in the centre of the room, hugging his arms to his chest. He looked like a glass bottle bobbing on the waves, Tristan thought. Lost. Adrift.