“You tried to destroy the world.” Baradaz didn’t raise her voice, but the emotion in it made the words crackle with ice. She abandoned all pretense of being occupied with the medical supplies, her hands tightly clenched around the bandages, wrinkling them. “You brought ruin to countless beings. What did you expect?”
I had been wrong. She wasn’t indifferent toward me at all. She was as furious with me as she’d been at the end of the war, only keeping herself carefully in check from the moment she entered the room.
I was at her mercy. It would have been clever to soften her toward me. Seducing people to my side, using their hidden desires and weaknesses to influence them, had always been something I excelled at.
Not with her, though. All my cunning burned away in the face of her anger like mist in the morning sun, her scorn only stoking the flames of my own ire. The betrayal that had gnawed relentlessly at my heart since she chose a side in the war—a side that, again, wasn’t mine—prompted me to retort.
“We always said there was no judgment between us.”
For a long moment, she stared at me as if she couldn’t believe my audacity. She could destroy me with a single thought in her anger. It wouldn’t be the first time she had used her powers against me.
Yet Baradaz only hissed, “You killed an entire company of soldiers in front of me to teach me a lesson.” She raised the hand with the bandages as if contemplating smiting me with it. “You did things…”
Her voice caught; the sight of her struggling to rein in her temper, her whole body trembling with fury, was nearly painful to witness.
I shouldn’t have come here. Far from her, I had been able to deceive myself into believing she didn’t hate me. A desperate illusion that was now shattering into a thousand pieces. There were no bridges left between us, their burning debris filling the air with an acrid smoke that choked me.
“I am sorry,” I ground out, unsure what else to say. Knowing it was not enough. That nothing I did or said could ever be enough.
Baradaz let out a hollow laugh. “No, you are not. The one thing you always desired above anything else was to hurt your brother. No matter the cost.” Her expression hardened. “Congratulations. You achieved at least that.”
“Not at the price of causing you pain,” I said, wishing I could find the words to convince her. “I know you have no reason to believe me. But it’s the truth.”
Baradaz scrutinized me for a long moment, her expression giving no hint to whether she believed me or not.
“Aramaz told me he brought you to the Abyss to deliveryou to justice,” she stated matter-of-factly. “How did you escape being destroyed by it?”
I frowned. She still didn’t sound terribly sad about my possible demise. It stirred a familiar self-disgust within me. If even she didn’t care if I lived or died anymore…
“You know how it is. I always find a way.”
“Noctis.” There was no amusement on Baradaz’s face as she regarded me steadily. How I wished she wouldn’t use that name. After decades of hearing it spoken with hate and disdain, I did not enjoy the sound of it on her lips. But I could imagine her reaction if I requested that she use my true name.
My mouth twisted. “He didn’t throw me in,” I said, the admission tasting bitter, so bitter I had to cover the sting with a mocking laugh. “An undeserved act of mercy. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
Baradaz’s face remained motionless at the revelation, not even a flicker in her eyes betraying her thoughts.
“So yes, my dear, my brother deceived you,” I pushed on relentlessly, eager to elicit some reaction from her. “Again. What a surprise.”
Instead of cursing either me or my brother to the deepest pit of the Abyss, a hint of sadness crossed Baradaz’s face. “Yes, you two always had that in common,” she said. “Both keeping the truth from me to manipulate me into doing what you wanted.”
“I never lied to you,” I snapped, unwilling to confront the unease churning inside me at her melancholy. How could she compare my deeds—deeds committed for a reason—with Aramaz’s manipulations? After she had lied to me for centuries, helping my brother betray me? “It was always you and Aramaz who were fond of elaborate games of deception.”
Baradaz only nodded sharply at my accusation as if to end the conversation, her expression calm and collected as she pulled downthe sheets covering me and reached for the simple black shirt I was wearing.
“I need to look at your wound.” She carefully tugged the garment over my head while curtly explaining how she had treated the injury. Much to my dismay, I couldn’t even manage these small tasks without her help. A hiss escaped me at the renewed pain shooting through my body with every jostle.
Baradaz’s touch was brief and efficient. Despite my weakened state, it sent an instant awareness through me, a pleased shiver that reached my very bones. I had missed her. I wasn’t too proud to admit it, at least to myself.
“I found your horse,” she commented. “Or more precisely, he found me. You were lucky he didn’t run off. That horse is a menace.”
“Nacin tried to bite you,” I said, briefly closing my eyes. Nacin was a trained war horse. If Baradaz had touched him without permission, she could have been easily injured.
Not that she shared my concerns. No, a self-satisfied little smile played on her full, red lips. “Only once.”
“Ah, yes,” I said with a shake of my head. “I forgot how much you love bringing unruly subjects into line.”
Despite her lack of response to my joke, I could sense the hostility between us gradually easing. The smile stayed on her face as she resumed her task, long dark lashes shielding her eyes as she slowly unwrapped the bandage around my torso. She nodded at my discarded shirt. “There were some clothes in the saddlebags. I see you still prefer black.”
