He kept his attention on the gloomy tunnel as he responded. “Because we’re tired of being oppressed.”
“No, not that. I understand that.Whydid you take me out of there? Why did you risk yourself?”
“Because I couldn’t see you die. I… I was too late for your mother, but I wasn’t going to let you die, and it’s over; we’ve lost.”
“Did you really expect to win?”
His eyes returned to me. “Yes.”
I didn’t want to kick him while he was down, buthowcould he have expected that? They’d rushed into something with little planning, other than attack and surprise, that I could tell.
I opened my mouth to tell himhewas the reason my mother was dead, that he hadn’t given any consideration to the amsirah caught in the crosshairs… the ones whodidn’tdeserve to die, before attacking. I wanted to scream, hit, and kick. I wanted to throw myself at him, tear away his hood, and pummel him until I stopped hurting… but I’d never stop hurting.
That was the sad truth I’d learned after my father’s passing. While, eventually, my misery would ease enough that I could go out in the world and function again without breaking down, it would come back. And it would do so in powerful waves that would have me smiling one minute and sobbing the next.
During those times, it was like years hadn’t passed, and it was once again the day when I learned he was gone.
I could kill Callan, and it still wouldn’t make me feel better. I could rail against him and blame him for all of this, and it would still do nothing.
It would only make me feel worse, as the way he hung his head and hunched his shoulders told me he was beating himself up too. He was defeated enough; my mother wouldn’t want me adding to it.
Swallowing back the lump in my throat, I shifted my attention to the walls as I sought to bury the anguish crushing my heart. “Where are we?”
“One of the servants’ tunnels in the earl’s castle.”
“How did we get here?”
“Through a trapdoor in one of the pillars.”
I blinked as his words sank in. I didn’t recall going through the trapdoor. The realization of how out of it I’d been when we entered these tunnels was a slap to the face that helped clear my mind.
I’d allowed myself to sink into despair after my mother’s death, and while it was understandable under normal conditions, it was incrediblystupidgiven what was happening in the ballroom. My mother would want me to live, yet, for a brief time, I’d stopped functioning.
If Callan hadn’t led me away, I might still be on the floor, weeping over her loss. I might also be dead.
The enormity of that sank in, as did the rest of what was happening. Callan had his hand on my waist and his arm locked under my shoulders and across my back as he helped me stand. I hadn’t been functioning and moving as well as I’d believed.
It terrified me to learn how little control I’d had over myself. What was Idoing?
I didn’t know the answer, but I wouldn’t let it happen again.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Ellery
“You can let me go,”I told him.
“Can you stand without me?”
“Yes.”
He reluctantly released me, and while my entire being screamed at me to sink to the floor, I locked my legs and remained standing. I wouldn’t go down.
I fisted my hands to firm my resolve; when I did, agony lanced through my arm. I lifted it to inspect the gash that had torn through skin and sinew.
The bleeding had eased, and the wound was healing, but I’d forgotten about the sword that sliced through me, probably because the pain was nothing compared to the loss of my mother.
“Are you okay?” Callan asked.
