I swallow hard, not answering him.
“There are always two sides.”
“Are you saying I don’t know the whole story?”
“Do you honestly think you do?”The challenge in his voice makes my chest tight.“There’s a reason you reached out to me tonight. You want to hate me for the sake of your friends, but you already know the answer to your own question.”
Closing my eyes, I listen to his heartbeat through the thread, wishing he was wrong. Because Wilder isn’t good—that much he’s proven. But something tells me he isn’t truly evil either. No matter what he’s done.
I feel him smirking through the thread—I can practically see it in my mind.“Is that what you’re looking for, Starfire? Something to make me redeemable?”
“Is that even possible?”
“Live long enough and there is no redemption. Besides, I don’t regret what I’ve done to protect my kingdom.”
“You don’t feel guilty?”
“I didn’t say that. Regret and guilt aren’t one and the same.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to put the pieces of him together. Wishing this was all simpler.
“Do you feel guilty about what happened with Isolde?”
“No.”He answers so quickly, my heart sinks.“Isolde died because she had faith.”
“In what? The king?”
“In you. She knew that if it hadn’t been her, it would have been Greer or Callum. It would have been someone else close to you. Isolde saw your strength. She saw the possibilities. She knew you needed them for whatever comes next, and that’s why she asked me to give her name to the king. Isolde did not fear meeting Sarrow.”
Wilder is implying it was Isolde’s choice.
It doesn’t make sense.
Or does it?
I think back to what Isolde told me. She wanted to give up after she lost her mate in Rohldova; she was only here to keep a promise to him. I was her excuse to finally let go.
“You were,”Wilder confirms.“But that’s not your fault.”
His reassurance does nothing to ease the knot in my chest.
“Would the king really have chosen Callum or Greer if Isolde hadn’t offered herself in their place?”
“To test a theory, yes.”
“And you’d have let him?”
“Do you think I control your king?”
“Answer the question, Wilder.”
There’s a beat of silence through the thread. My stomach knots, and I know the answer before he says it.
“I’m not here for them, Elorie. You know I would have.”
“There have to be limits.”
Wilder scoffs. “You should tell that to your king. He’s the one who wrapped his magic around Isolde’s neck. Who tortured my people and then brought you their mutilated corpses to resurrect. Yet you have nothing to say to him.”
