“She had… an accident,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “The healers took care of her. She was resting.”
Katell’s stomach tightened. “But she’s all right?”
“She’s all right.” His words were steady enough, but the unease in his voice betrayed him. His usual carefree air was gone, replaced by a tension that left her unnerved.
She turned away, retreating to the bed. The iron chain scraped against the stone floor, the harsh sound louder in the silence between them.
She gestured to the stool and side table, where a platter of food waited. “Well, make yourself at home,” she said with a wry smile. “As you can see, I have a real feast—water, some stale bread, and lentils.”
Nik barely spared the food a glance. His attention fixed on her with a focus that prickled beneath her skin.
“Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you about Sinope.”
Katell went still, her smile vanishing.
“I heard all about the fight,” Nik continued, his tone almost gentle, “but not what happened afterwards.” He hesitated. “Did you bury her?”
For a moment, Katell just stared at him, the memories crashing back with brutal clarity. Images flooded her mind—the sacred temple, the silent priestesses, Sinope’s body wrapped in a shroud, a crown of flowers resting on her brow.
“Yes,” she murmured. “We took her to the Achaean necropolis outside the city.”
The words hung between them, laden with unspoken grief neither of them could fully articulate.
Nik cleared his throat. “That’s good. She’s among her own now.”
“I saw her again,” Katell said in a clipped tone, crossing her arms. “Back at the hillfort. The Westerners brought back the dead one night, and?—”
Nik shook his head. “It wasn’t her, Kat. They were only visions. Echoes of the dead.”
Katell wanted to argue, to tell him how real that night had been, how seeing Sinope again had felt like her heart being torn apart. But the words lodged in her throat. She wasn’t ready to bare that part of herself. Not yet.
Instead, she said quietly, “I saw my father, too.”
She wasn’t sure why she told him. She hadn’t spoken of it to anyone—not even Dorias. But saying it aloud felt necessary, as if the act itself might help her make sense of it all.
“He said he’d been keeping us safe in the Freefolk Lands,” she went on, staring at the floor. “That it was on our mother’s orders. I wanted to believe he was lying, but…”
Nik’s gaze softened with understanding. “But Alena told you about the Rebel Queen.”
“Yes.” The revelation had shaken her more than she cared to admit. Alena would never lie about something so significant—but still, the truth had left her reeling.
“The Rebel Queen was an enemy of Rasenna,” she muttered, almost as if trying to convince herself. “And yet I joined the Sixth, and now?—”
“Now you don’t know what to think.”
Katell shot to her feet. “Stop putting words into my mouth,” she snapped.
But instead of backing away, Nik stepped closer. The scent of pine and fresh citrus rose from him like warmth off sunbaked stone. Her pulse quickened, and she hated the way his nearness made her feel exposed.
“You’re allowed to question what you took as the truth, Kat,” he said. “And to change your mind. We all make mistakes. What matters is what you do next.”
His words settled over her like a soothing balm, easing the tension in her shoulders.
She raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep her emotions in check. “Is that what you’re trying to do? Make up for your past?”
He shrugged. “Something like that.”
Katell shook her head, her tone softening despite herself. “You have nothing to make up for, Nik. You were just a child.”
