“I didn’t say we were friends,” she shot back, too exhausted to come up with a better retort. His rebuke stung, though she had no idea why. He’d already warned her not to trust him, and he’d offered nothing more than an uneasy alliance. That was all. “I get it. You’re very mysterious and you don’t like personal questions. So tell me about my own parents. Why were they so eager to experiment on us?”

He flipped her cakes onto a plate and slid them across the table. “They wanted you to be the most powerful mage Maremount had ever known. It was a time of turmoil for the city, and they wanted to take advantage of it.”

“Lovely people,” she said drily. She picked up a fritter, biting into it, her mouth exploding with the rich, buttery tastes. “Mmmmm.”

Thunder cracked outside, and the room darkened further. She glanced at Caine, his skin warmed to a deep gold by the candlelight. “Tell me, is Maremount still in turmoil?”

He leaned on the countertop, holding a fritter. “No. A war broke out a few years ago. Eventually, the monarchy was overthrown.”

“Were you involved in the fighting?”

A muscle worked in his jaw. “Is there a reason you need to know that?”

She swallowed a mouthful of her breakfast. “Right. No personal questions. But do you know what happened to my parents?”

He paused for a long time, and she almost wondered if he hadn’t heard her. “We didn’t stay in touch.”

Considering they’d ruined her life in the quest for power, she wasn’t sure she even wanted to see them. Still, she felt an overwhelming urge to ask Caine what had gone so horribly wrong that her parents had shipped her off to the Brotherhood. But the last time she’d tried to pose that question, his eyes had turned black, and he’d nearly murdered her. She took a large bite of the corn cakes, and her mouth rejoiced. “This is the most delicious thing I’ve ever eaten. I think I could die happy after this.”

His face changed, and he flashed a brilliant smile. She’d never seen him smile so genuinely before, and his beauty nearly took her breath away.

Rosalind swallowed. “Was I nice to you and the other servants?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “You used to dump things on the floor just to have the servants clean them, and you only referred to them as Servant, never by name. But you were only four, so it was hard to take you seriously. Especially since you couldn’t pronounce anything properly, so it sounded like you were calling them swabents.”

She shielded her eyes with her hands. Oh, gods. I was a nightmare. “Please tell me you’re joking.”

Something struck her about the way he’d phrased that. He’d referred to the servants in the third person. Was he not among them?

He swallowed a bite of his fritter. “Truthfully, you were a horrible, spoiled brat.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter to me. You were only four.”