My words begged the question:whowas paying Kriska? Someone who knew I was a Naiad. Not Selena, not Thaan. Their plans hinged on my remaining in Calder.
Someone else. But who?
He cleared his throat. “I seem to remember you telling me you can't read people, Leihani”
I stiffened at the use of my own words against me, watching his knee bounce softly. The scent of hot metal wrapped around the room, stronger than Captain Kriska’s anger had been the day before.
“Promise me you won’t react.”
His knee jiggled harder.
“Kye.”
“No.” He gave a sharp shake, a whispered snarl grinding itself from his chest. “I can’t. I can't watch them put their hands on you and not want to rip them apart. Ican’t, so don’t ask me to.”
I released a slow breath, head cradled against the hard wall, and studied him for a long time.
Where I’m from, everyone wants to press their advantage. You either learn how to manage people or you let them control you.
And where’s that?
Here and there, up north. I can’t stay anywhere too long. I’m always looking for something I can’t find at home.
The memory of Kye growing anxious as we watched the naval ships cruise into the Leihani harbor floated to the forefront of my mind.
He’s always looking for ways to disappoint his father.
Like Hadrian, I’d thought Kye self-indulgent and spoiled. Immature. Someone who ran from his responsibilities, chasing the idea of adventure instead.
Now I realized he’d simply been unraveling under the loss of control over his life.
That’s why he’d left home.
I coveted freedom above all else, but Kye neededautonomy. A license to do what he wanted without needing permission or approval. Here, chained to the wall of a pirate ship, he was tending to the wounds of his own anger and fear the only way he knew how.
Picking fights.
He'd been raised to become a commander in his father’s army, and here he was defenseless against attack, but he searched for it anyway. For the reprieve it offered.
Mihauna, what an idiot.
But even as I thought the words, something inside me softened. I watched him buckle under the weight of his own private chaos, and worry bloomed inside me like dark little flowers. I made myself turn to stone as I gazed at him, unwilling to take no for an answer.
“Promise me.”
His muscles twitched and jerked like the idea of swearing such a thing was worse than belly-crawling through a cave of venomous spiders. I wondered if his pride blocked the ability to say the words. If they died on his tongue the wayNaiaddied on mine.
“They won't hurt me, but you do, Kye,” I said, switching tactics as I felt myself grow desperate for him to stop shaking andlisten.
His mouth parted as his gaze drifted to meet mine. His heels fell flat against the floor, his knee frozen as he absorbed my words, not a flicker of movement across his body.
“Isuffer every time they lay a hand on you,” I said, and realized the words were true. “It's killing me. If you can't stop to protect yourself, find a way to stop and protectme.”
It was an unfair blow.
It was manipulative and low—invoking whatever guilt laying dormant under the surface of his ire.
But it was true.
