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“Ugh,” I groan. The taste of blood and someone else’s skin.
A pair of fingers swipe across my lips. Dessin. What happened?
“And here I thought the beautiful blonde would be the least of my problems.” My eyes widen despite the tilting world and deepening nausea.
Dessin’s voice, but it’s scarred and detached. Light and cynical.
Kaspias.
“Keep those fucking hands off her,” Dessin grunts.
I search for him through the sheet of blurry tears. He’s on all fours, trying to keep himself steady. The thing in his ear is keeping him from standing against his brother.
“Killing a sentinel is a serious offense. The punishment is grave,” Kaspias announces, and his stern glare bounces between Dessin and me. It’s almost…pained. Like he desperately wishes he didn’t have to do this.
The dizziness could kill as my stomach rolls over.
“Let her go!” Dessin shouts, slamming his fists on the jagged floor. “Skylenna!”
The world swoops out from under me, arms hook under my knees and back, and the thumping of footsteps vibrate up my body.
Kaspias leans closer to the man I love so only we can hear him. “Dessin, I promise—I won’t hurt her.”
I try to slither away, but he only grips me tighter. I’m panting with nausea, making me go limp in his arms, breathing heavily against his chest. He smells of rust and the execution block.
“I can walk,” I try to say, but it comes out in a long slur.
“Please, don’t be difficult right now.”
Bile creeps up my throat.
“You killed a sentinel in front of a room full of witnesses. Just go with it, alright?”
I swallow down the acid, trying to relax my body against the survival instinct to fight. Could it be that he doesn’t hate us? That maybe he wants to help?
The chatter from the commissary dims as we move further down a hallway in the prison. I wait to speak until I’m sure we’re alone. Maybe this is my chance to get through to him. Figure out why he isn’t being cruel, especially for a commander of the Vexamen army. I got through to Dessin in the asylum. What’s to say I can’t get through to this man, too?
“Did you mean what you said to your brother back there?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“About not hurting you?”
“Yes.”
Anticipation tightens a knot in my belly.
“I meant it.”
My shoulders sag, and I try not to let my mind blossom with hope and relief.
“But weren’t you raised to be this ruthless killer? A brutal commander?” I want to believe you. I want you to be on our side. For Kane. For everything he’s been through.
Kaspias looks down at me, his face finally clearing from the dizziness warping my vision. His brows knit together, forming a thick crease. He seems to hold his silence to study my face with a contemplative curiosity. His lower lash line is rimmed with black paint, casting an ominous cloud around his gaze. Aside from the scars, piercings, and beard…he looks just like my Dessin. My Kane. There’s a tangible connection forming with the seconds that pass, the look he’s giving me.
“My brother was raised to be a killer, too, wasn’t he?”
“That’s right.”
“People are capable of holding on to their humanity.” The corners of his eyes wrinkle. And he almost looks desperate, needing me to agree, to confirm that he in fact still has his humanity unbroken.
