Zed glanced at me briefly, clearly caught off guard by the question, then went back to poking at the fire like I hadn’t just asked him something huge.
“No.”
That was it. One word. No explanation.
I leaned forward, propping my chin on my palm. “That’s it? Just, no? You’re not even going to tell me why?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said, his voice calm and steady as ever.
I narrowed my eyes. “Okay, fine. Then how old are you?”
He didn’t even look at me. Just kept tending the fish over the fire like my question was nothing more than a passing breeze.
“Oh, come on!” I groaned. “You can’t even tell me your age? Are you, like, secretly fifty or something?”
He almost smiled — almost — but shook his head slightly, still not giving me an answer.
“Okay,” I said, crossing my arms, “let me
