Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2)

Cold Fire (Spiritwalker #2) Page 92

“I can’t possibly imagine, Catherine.” He refilled the cup with juice, as if to give his hands something to do rather than throttle me. “Unless one supposed that hearing you answer all my questions with questions makes me think you are answering all my questions with questions.”

“Yes,” I said hopefully. My lips parted as I released a breath.

He raised the cup, took a swallow, and lowered it. “Catherine, you are answering all my questions with questions.”

My heart began pounding as if I were running. “Yes, I am.”

He turned the cup once all the way around. “Past experience suggests you may be doing it purposefully simply to annoy me.”

“No, I’m not.” I slid the cup out of his hand. “Although it’s a tempting thought.”

He propped his chin on a hand and considered me until I bit my lower lip. When he spoke, it was as if we were sharing a secret. “You and your cousin crossed into the spirit world in Adurnam. You met my grandmother there. Let me guess. You’re under some manner of binding.”

“Yes!”

“You have to answer questions with questions.”

“Yes. Thank you for realizing!” I reached out impulsively to grasp both his hands.

He looked down, eyes widening.

I snatched my hands back and tucked them out of sight under the table.

He made a business of coughing. “It’s easy enough to get around. You’re under a binding. If you can tell me what or who has set this binding on you, maybe I can help you break it.”

A crow fluttered down to land on the roof of the building in back. Its gaze like a hammer nailed my mouth shut. I just sat there.

Irritation flickered in the tightening of his eyes. Then a thought occurred to him, and his expression cleared. “It makes sense that a binding would bind you so you can’t speak of it.”

“Cold magic can’t break this,” I whispered, warning him off, for that cursed crow was still watching us.

“Don’t think you know what I can manage with regard to cold magic, Catherine.”

“Here in the land of the lowly fire bane,” I agreed, noting how his gaze narrowed at the phrase. “You haven’t answered my question. What could possibly bring you to Expedition?”

He looked past me. Rising, he left the table. Resolutely, I did not turn to watch him. He returned with a huge platter of steaming rice and peas topped by a slab of fish still sizzling from being fried in oil. The smell almost flattened me with its anticipatory aroma. He set down the platter and offered me utensils.

“Don’t think to distract me from my question,” I muttered as my traitorous hand accepted spoon and knife.

He smiled. I did not like that smile. That smile could peel the clothes right off a woman’s body.

“Go on,” he said coaxingly.

To my horror, I felt the heat of a blush rising just as if he had voiced that very suggestion and I was actually considering it.

He rocked back, caught himself, and let out a deep breath.

“Aunty makes the best rice and peas in the city,” he said in an altered tone.

He dug in. The sight of him eating with such gusto shocked me into temporary immobility. Then the smell of the food seduced me. The rice and round beans had been cooked in a creamy milk, and had a peppery flavor not burning but warm. The fish was white and flaky and perfect. It was so good and I was so hungry.

He paused. A disdainful frown creased his face. “Someone hasn’t been feeding you properly.”

I dropped my gaze back to the food so I didn’t have to look at Vai in case he would guess that I was thinking of Drake, for it seemed obvious he was referring to Drake. “You still didn’t answer. What brought you to Expedition?”

“A three-masted ship.”

“Don’t lie to me!” I set down my spoon.

“I didn’t lie to you. It was a three-masted ship. As for why I am here, I came to help my sister make a new life here.”

“Kayleigh? And the mansa just let her go?”

He tucked away several spoonfuls of the rice and peas as he considered. “Obviously it is not that simple, but it’s all I can say. If you thereby feel you cannot tell me what brings you to Expedition, then I will understand your reluctance to trust me. But you must know, Catherine, even if you can or wish to say nothing, I will give you whatever shelter and help you need. Anything.”

The word hit so hard I closed my eyes briefly out of sheer gratitude and relief. I was not alone and friendless. But I had to be pragmatic. “Anything encompasses a great deal. I have nothing except the clothes on my back and my sword. And my father’s locket, which I have thanks to you.”