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“Nothing about this is your fault.”
“Lorian…Cavis knew I wouldn’t be able to hold on. He knew I couldn’t watch him be tortured. Eventually…eventually, I was going to break. I was the weak one. And he knew it. He died for it.”
His expression hardened, even as grief darkened his eyes. “He would never have let them take him alive, Prisca. Never. Don’t take that decision from him.”
I drew in a deep, shaky breath. Lorian was a solid support next to me. But I wanted to be his support. I reached for his hand.
“I know you’re hurting too,” I said. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Lorian.”
“I…” He paused. Swallowed. “He should be here, Prisca. He should be right here. With us.” His voice was hoarse, and I nodded, just letting him talk. “The hurt will come later. When I have to—” His voice broke now. “When I have to tell Sybella he’snot coming home. That she’s all alone now. And I didn’t do what I was supposed to. I didn’t bring him back alive.”
I thought of the way Cavis had doted on his daughter. How they all had. Lorian’s last words to the man he’d considered family. He’d promised him he’d be there for his daughter.
He wouldn’t let anyone else tell Sybella. That wasn’t how Lorian was made. No, he’d do it himself. He’d see it as the least he could do for Cavis. But I had messages to pass on to Sybella too. And one day, when Piperia was old enough, I would tell her about her father. I would tell her that he was a hero, and that he’d left a hole in our lives that would never be filled.
“He was the best of us,” Lorian said. “The kindest. There was no one better. No one who cared more. But…now, he’s gone. And somehow, we all have to live with that. I’ve lost people before. Over and over again. So have Galon, Rythos, and Marth. But I don’t know if we’ll recover from this. I don’t see how we can.”
Leaning down, he buried his head in my neck, breathing me in. I stroked his head, giving him the time he needed.
He wasn’t ready to talk about it either. All I could do was be there when he was. And right now, it was obvious he wanted a change of subject. I understood what it was not to be able to think about it. Not to be able to feel the pain.
“I have a new power,” he muttered.
“You…what?”
“Do you remember the fae fire I used that time in Eryndan’s castle?”
I shivered. “Yes.”
“It appears that wasn’t a unique experience.”
“Are you…”
“I’ve only been able to use it during times your life has been directly threatened. I need to learn how to wield it without you being in peril. If I lose control, the world burns.”
I flinched. “We’ll find some damask powder,” I said. “Just in case we ever need it.”
He lifted his head, and I ran my thumb over his jaw, meeting his gaze.
“I took the disk from you,” he said.
“You did.”
“I won’t apologize.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
He sighed. I just watched him. Finally, he wound one of my curls around his finger. “It was Parintha, the woman who was my nanny when I was a boy. She hadn’t eaten with the rest of the castle that night when my uncle came for our magic. She was old and tired, and she fell asleep. If she hadn’t fallen asleep, she might’ve raised some alarm. Or perhaps she might’ve noticed the strange silence in the castle and hidden me away. She couldn’t forgive herself.”
“And she took her own life.”
He nodded.
“It was selfish of her. You’d lost your parents, and you needed her.”
He hesitated, his gaze still on my hair. But he nodded again.
“I will never leave you willingly,” I vowed.
