“You,” he says, squeezing my hand, “will be extraordinary.”
With my shackles replaced and Seth snoring on the other side of the tent, I sink back into my bed to try to get some sleep before morning.
But just as my eyes close, I hear a voice. “Sylvie?”
“Taran?” I whisper back. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
He goes silent, and at first, I think it’s because Seth is stirring, but then I realize he likely doesn’t have much more to say to me.
“Taran, I’m so sorry. For everything, but especially for this.”
More silence. Has he fallen asleep?
I creep up from my bed, pausing when the chains clink and Seth’s snoring halts, but it quickly resumes. I sit on the floor next to Taran’s cot, my back to the tent post. He turns his head as I sit down. “Are you in pain? I can get the elixir.”
“No. What they gave me is still working.”
I lean back and close my eyes. Fuck, this is a mess. Even if I manage to stay with Seth, it doesn’t mean Taran will be safe. If anything, he’s more likely to suffer at Seth’s hands. Adria would probably just throw him in a kennel and forget about him. “I didn’t want any of this to happen. I just—” I choke on my words as I let myself think of Ronan, truly think of him for the first time tonight.
He was so close. So close that I could feel him. His determination to save me. His love and his longing. But worst of all, I could feel his fear.
I hate that he’s afraid, and it’s all my fault.
I choke back a sob. “I just love him so much, Taran. I didn’t want to love him. I shouldn’t love him, but I do. And if I had just let myself admit that earlier, if I could have trusted him and told him the truth—”
“I know,” says Taran. His voice isn’t gentle, but it isn’t cruel either. “I know you do.”
“And now you’re here, and I’m scared. I’m scared of what Seth is going to do to you. And I’m terrified of what Adria will do.”
“Is what you told Seth true? About your shadows? You can’t control them?”
Ronan didn’t tell him then. “No, but they won’t work without Ronan. But the longer I can keep Seth from finding that out, the better.”
Taran nods. His eyes harden. “I can handle whatever he does to me.”
“Taran,” I say, and then I shake my head. He’s going to torture Taran. My brother is going to torture him, and then he’s going to kill him, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him.
I can’t hold it in any longer. I’ve tried so hard to stay strong, to stay hopeful, to look out for opportunities, but I don’t know if I can endure this.
I need Ronan here. He believes in me more than anything. He believes in me beyond reason. I need some of his beautiful delusion right now.
Because all I have for myself right now is shame.
Tears flow down my face. I think of the last time I cried a few days ago when I finally told Ronan the truth. The way he looked at me like he didn’t know me at all. The pain I caused him, the war I let happen because of my weakness. My foolish belief that my siblings were worth saving.
Taran begins to sing softly.
Termen a grenok, archin a hemerow,
Po dolgos opone a mos,
Mos a korta mev po vayhel.
The tune is gentle and sweet, soothing. Taran keeps his voice low, cutting out in places, but he continues singing as I sob, turning his head to face me. I don’t know any Orsan and can’t understand what he’s singing, can’t even tell if he’s singing different verses or repeating the same one, but slowly, the quiet rhythm of his melody calms me.
“What’s that?” I ask as my tears finally cease.
