‘He made me kill my first man when I was thirteen.’ His voice has an almost dreamlike tone. ‘He was tied to a chair, helpless. I didn’t even know what he had done to deserve death. Father told me to kill him, or he’d kill Leilah. She’s always been my favourite among the palace staff, ever since I was a child and she’d sneak me food on the days I disappointed him and he made me go without. Three days. That’s the longest he made me go without food. I was only nine.’
My horror is absolute. ‘Kyor …’ I whisper his name, but it’s inaudible even to myself, and he doesn’t so much as turn his head in my direction.
‘I had to keep her safe,’ he continues. ‘She loved me. She looked after me. I had to keep her safe. Love is a weakness. Leilah … Zelle … I had to keep her safe, so I did it. I killed him. Sliced his throat.’ A thin frown line pinches his brow. ‘I can still feel his blood on my hands … damning my soul. And then I failed to save Zelle. And that damns me even more.’
My heart aches as if it has been struck physically. Tears are running down my cheeks, but I try not to let my anguish show in my voice as I say, ‘Your soul is just fine, Kyor. I see you.’
‘No, it’s not. You don’t know, Thorn. There are things you don’t know.’
‘About the vow you made?’ I question, my pulse flickering faster. Could he break it now, in this state? Had the tonic not loosened his tongue, I have no doubt that he wouldn’t have told me about his father starving him, torturing him, and threatening his loved ones. How far does that looseness go? Far enough to spill the last of the secrets he has kept between us…?
The question lingers in my mind. All I would have to do is ask – ask him to tell me about the vow he made – and I could have my answer. My veins throb with the possibility. Could I do that? More than once he has told me that he would tell me the truth if only he could. Perhaps this is the way it happens …
I swallow, aware of how quickly my throat is drying as I contemplate the consequences of what I’m considering. Say he does break the vow, then what? Will the effects of the tonic erase any ramifications that would happen had he consciously chosen to disclose the information? My mind moves to the blood vow I made with my friends to keep my brother safe. Who’s to say Kyor’s vow isn’t saving lives too?
For me to prise that information out of him while he’s in a vulnerable state would be so unethical, I know I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. And how would he look at me afterwards, knowing I stole the truth from him when he was at his weakest?
No, if he wants to bare his soul to me, it should be when he is cognisant of his own words and actions. Whatever secrets Kyor has, they will remain his tonight.
‘Come, sleep,’ I say, pressing my hand flat to his chest without evenmeaning to, as if I need proof that his heart is still beating. That he’s still here. That he survived.
The tension in his brow smooths.
‘I like resting with you,’ he murmurs. ‘I like you in my arms.’
The throbbing in my chest burns. I can’t bear to hear any more drug-induced confessions. ‘Sleep, Kyor. Rest now.’
He falls blessedly silent, his breathing even as he slips into sleep, his heart steady beneath my hand.
Chapter 36
The next time, I awaken slowly. My toes are cold, but the rest of me is surprisingly warm. My eyes flutter open, and I realise I’m not the first to rouse myself from sleep, as I inadvertently stare into Kyor’s icy blue gaze.
‘Morning,’ I mumble.
‘A morning I get thanks to you. You saved my life, Rose.’ His voice is clear, strong. The dreamy quality has gone, and I’m thankful for it. Each word he spoke with that loose tongue of his was a word given without his full consent, and the fewer of those the better.
I wave away his thanks, aware that one of my legs lies across him. I should want to move it away, but I don’t.
The last thing I want is to somehow hurt his healing shoulder. That’s what I tell myself anyway.
‘You would have done the same for me,’ I tell him.
The way his eyes glimmer is all the evidence I need that he would. Not that I actually need any evidence. As I continue to look up at him, a look of concern flashes across his face.
‘I don’t remember much. I remember being awake, but … did I do anything … say anything … inappropriate?’
‘You told me some stories from your childhood,’ I admit.
He winces, and that makes my heart hurt all the more. Not for a second does he think the memories he told me might begoodones.
‘Well, at least I know what I have to do next time I want to wake up with you pressed all over me,’ he says instead. It’s an obvious shift, moving the conversation to somewhere flirty, pushing away the awkwardness of his Robbard’s-induced confession, but I find I’m grateful for it. ‘Though I have to say, this isn’t quite how I imagined the next time we’d end up in a bed together.’
‘You’ve thought about us being in bed together, have you?’ I say lightly, sliding my leg off his and letting him change the subject.
‘Endlessly,’ he confesses with a roguish grin. ‘While we’re here, would you like to hear some of the things I’ve thought about doing to you?’
Normally that voice, those words, would be more than enough to slide my thoughts into somewhere I try to pretend I don’t still go, but not right now.
