Itâs the idea of him waking from a however long slumber, thinking of home, and winding up in this room of all places that has her ire leaking away. âWas this truly your home then?â she asks, gaze swiveling around the room, shoulder losing some of their tension. Nothing about this room seems the type of place to encourage warmth, but some might say the same of her library, of South Reach as a whole, so she silences her questions with little more than a befuddled frown. Her brows quirk, an amused smile on her face. âYou must not have met a great deal of fae to think all of them are pretty and bossy. As for your name, I would say it should only change if you want it to, so if you are Lachlan Murray then you are Lachlan Murray.â Heâs blunt, and itâs startling enough to make her lips part and her brows furrow. Her eyes scan him over, finding neither a reason for spying nor why such a talent would make him die. Worse, still, to know the council invokes this type of person for their gains. Spymasters are a dime a dozen in the Otherlands, and she shouldnât be so surprised to know Lethe has one, too. Her lips purse, unamused at the notion that one exists now and she is simply not privy to their existence. âI do not like surprises,â she starts, frowning, âAnd you are one. Why would you choose to spy for the council? If it is anything like the careers I know, it isnât a path anyone will choose willingly. Ah, but I suppose you cannot share either.â Nor does Lily think she wants to know, her evening is bizarre enough, even if sheâll regret it come morning. She rubs her brows, and dismisses his apology. âYou are not required to apologize, it is unnecessary, this must be traumatizing to you. Perhaps you would like a place to rest? We are placing shades at the inn, for their safety and everyone elseâs, I can make such arrangements for you, but unfortunately you cannot stay in here,â she gestures around, belatedly noticing the look in his eyes. Not being able to read him is⌠strange. âWill you be alright?âÂ
He didnât much care to answer that question, though it was a good one. Cut clear to the bone, concise, and hell, she didnât even know him. She was like...a cauterizing iron, that was what came to mind. Sealing a wound almost as quickly as she could cause it pain, and it was puzzling. Her questions made him feel like he was being spun on the spot. Why had he gone down that path? Fear, starvation, a quick mind and a knack for eavesdropping. All he had been good for for many a year. âAye, suppose that makes sense. I chose it myself, long ago. Stole the first from a book, the second from a man who took me in to apprentice as a tailor. Never had any parents I knew of, yâsee.â He says wistfully, feeling at once more settled and more distant with every passing second. Where the fear fades, the exhaustion creeps in, and that he doesnât understand in the slightest. âCanât I share? Iâm dead now, not much worse anyone can do to me. Katherine Irving took notice of me after a man to whom I owe much sent me here to get my bearings. Left me under the wing of my council rep, but I fear Iâve...well, being a disappointment isnât new to me.â Her remark about him not being able to stay in her office gets a rare chuckle out of him. It wasnât his space any longer, that much was clear, and as probing as she was, there was a lot of kindness in the way she treated him. A strange thing, that. It was the final question that threw him, leaving his blue eyes wide as he headed towards the door of her office. âDonât think Iâve ever been alright, lass. If I had, I wouldnât have gotten shot and abandoned the way I did. But you can take me to this inn, if it helps you. Least I can do after youâve been so kind.â Lachlan swept her a bow, then found to his surprise that his hand was solid enough to turn the doorknob. Progress, perhaps.Â