I could hear the question in her words, and I nodded. “Saint too.”
“From your time together here in Midnight?”
“We took an oath,” I said. “After one of Keradoc’s victory parades.”
“Victory parades? But he hasn’t even won the war.”
“And if he ever does, and the fighting actually stops and the monsters of Midnight unite in peace, the whole place will crumble. Midnight runs on corruption, greed, and violence. It doesn’t work otherwise.” I closed my eye and dipped my face into the spray of water, eye patch and all. I never took it off around her, and I never would. Haley didn’t need any more nightmares.
“After the battles,” I continued, “his soldiers would bring the wounded back to the city and parade them through the streets until they either bled to death or passed out and got crushed in the procession. Not just his enemies, which would’ve been horrifying enough, but his own fighters too. Anyone who got themselves injured was weak, he’d reasoned, and needed to be culled from the herd.”
“Holy fuck.”
“The worst part was seeing the family and friends of the wounded. They’d throw themselves in front of the procession, begging for the soldiers to free their people, but most of the time they got crushed too.”
My gut twisted at the thought. Saint didn’t think Keradoc was doing the parades anymore, but every time I stepped out into the street now, I looked over my shoulder, half expecting to see the half-dead armies marching through a river of blood.
“This one night,” I continued, “the parade got out of hand. The injured weren’t dying fast enough, so the Midnight soldiers starting killing them—just picking them off. Knives, arrows, immolation. People—not the ones unlucky enough to have someone marching in that mess, but the others—watched the procession from their windows and balconies. They cheered for the violence, egging on the attackers. They dropped roses down on the bloody streets, chanting for Keradoc. The bastard himself never bothered attending, though. He’d tell his generals he didn’t think it was prudent for a leader to sully himself by publicly supporting such barbaric traditions, even though they’d all been carried out on his orders.”
“And the soldiers called this avictory?”
“All they had to do was murder their own men, and they were champions.” I pressed the heel of my hand to my good eye, wishing I could stamp out the memories. “Later on, the three of us headed outside. The streets were littered with roses and blood and death. So we stood, right out in the middle of the city, and made our oath. Sliced our palms, clasped hands, and swore that no matterwhathappened to us in Midnight, we’d never turn on each other like that. We’d protect each other. Before glory, victory, or love, the three of us would come first. Even before honor. Didn’t matter that we weren’t born as brothers, or that we weren’t even the same species. That night, we became blood.”
“Blood before roses,” she whispered, and I nodded.
“That old saying, ‘blood is thicker than water?’ Most people assume it’s talking about your blood family—parents, siblings, whatever—and telling you they’re the most important people in your life. No matter what abuses or atrocities they commit, it doesn’t matter, because they’re your blood.”
Haley nodded, her eyes darkening. “I’ve always hated that saying. Family—a bond like that—should bechosen. Sometimes you choose your blood relatives, but that’s not always a given.”
“No, it isn’t. Which is why some people believe the saying is actually a bastardization of the original, which is, ‘the blood of the battle is thicker than the water of the womb.’ The people who fight side-by-side, the people who spill blood for you... That bond is stronger than a connection forged by the chance pairing of two people creating biological offspring. I always took it that way, anyway. So when I say Hudson and Saint were my blood… Ichosethem that night, Haley.”
She took my hand. Ran her finger along my palm, right across the spot where I’d sliced it open for the oath.
“And now?” she asked. “Are you still choosing them?”
“Now it’s… complicated. You know, sometimes things happen and you just… I don’t know, Haley. Bonds break.”
“Elianbreaks them, you mean.”
“No, it’s… It wasn’t all his fault. Not this time. We all played our parts. We’restillplaying them. But Saint… He certainly doesn’t make it easy to keep choosing him.”
She reached up and traced the arch of my eyebrow. “He makes you sad.”
“Not just him,” I said, forcing a smile. “Saint may be a grade-A dickhead, but he can’t take credit foreveryfucked-up thing that’s ever befallen me. Believe it or not, angel, I haven’t always been such a charming gentleman.”
That got a smile, but it wasn’t enough to chase the new worry from her eyes.
“Sometimes when you look at me,” she said, “I feel like… like you’re seeing someone else. A ghost.”
“Sometimes I feel like I might be.”
She blinked up at me, water dripping from her long lashes, waiting for an explanation I wasn’t sure I wanted to give her. Wasn’t sure I even could.
But then my lips were moving, bringing the past into the present, words tumbling out before I could stop myself.
“Oona,” I whispered, as if she really was a ghost. “She was a dark fae—one of the pureblood Midnighters. Keradoc’s daughter, actually, though I didn’t learn that until after. When his people found out we’d been together, they killed her. Saint thought they were trying to send me a message.”
“Oh my God,” she gasped.
