His chains rattled as he shifted to face her more fully. “Because I am not them. Because I love you.”
The words hung between them, heavy. And she wanted to believe them. Moons above, she wanted to believe them so badly it hurt. It wasn’t that she didn’t. Not exactly. But she didn’t precisely believe him either. Just as she didn’t precisely trust him.
Moreover, she’d seen what he was capable of. She’d watched him slaughter her uncle’s men without hesitation. She’d stood beside him as he’d plotted and schemed and manipulated everyone around him like pieces on a game board. Over his own family too. Ones he’d claimed to love, in his own way.
Love, for Raziel, was not the same as mercy.
“I love you too,” she said softly. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”
Before he could respond, the wagon lurched to a halt. Outside, she could hear voices calling to one another, the creak of wheels settling, the stamping of the greatushilas the caravan made camp.
The door to their wagon swung open, and Kalo’s silhouette filled the frame. The fae’s silver eyes swept over them both with barely concealed contempt.
“We’ve stopped for the evening. You.” He pointed at Nadi. “Come. We need to talk.”
Raziel’s hand shot out, catching her wrist. The grip was weak—weaker than it should have been—but there was possessive intensity in it, nonetheless. “She stays with me.”
Kalo laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “You don’t give orders here,vuampi. The only reason you’re still breathing is because the elders want you alive.”
“It’s fine.” Nadi gently pried Raziel’s fingers from her wrist. “I’ll be back.”
She saw the flash of something dangerous in his eyes—jealousy, perhaps, or fear. Maybe both. But he let her go, settling back against the wall with his chains pooled in his lap.
She climbed down from the wagon and followed Kalo through the circled camp. The humans watched her pass, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright hostility. She ignored them, keeping her focus on the blue-skinned fae in front of her.
He led her to the edge of the camp, where a small fire crackled in a ring of stones. The flames cast dancing shadows across his tattooed arms as he settled onto a fallen log and gestured for her to sit across from him.
“You’ve changed, little fish.” His voice was quieter now, away from the others. Almost gentle.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? It’s what your mother used to call you.” His silver eyes reflected the firelight. “She always said you were too slippery for your own good. That you’d wriggle out of any net someone tried to throw over you.” He smirked.
The mention of her mother hit like a blow to the chest. She hadn’t spoken to anyone who had known her family in so long…the grief was a wound she’d cauterized shut, and Kalo was picking at the scar tissue.
“What do you want, Kalo?”
“To understand.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You were always stubborn, always determined to do things your own way. But this?” He shook his head. “Bedding a vampire? The Serpent himself? I thought you had more sense than that.”
“You don’t know what I’ve been through. What we’ve been through together.”
“No. I don’t.” He nodded slowly. “But I know what he is. I know what his family has done to ours. I was there, Nadi, when the Nostroms slaughtered the Reshi clan. I saw what they left behind. Bodies strung up like birthday decorations, drained until there was nothing left but husks.” His jaw tightened. “I was fourteen years old.”
She said nothing. What could she say? She’d seen similar horrors. She’dlivedthem.
“And now you bring one of them here. Into our midst. I heard what you said to him.” Kalo’s laugh was bitter. “Do you really think I believe those chains will hold him once he’s recovered? Do you really think he won’t turn on us the moment it suits him?”
“He might.” The admission surprised her even as it left her lips. “But right now, we have common enemies. His family tried to kill him. They threw him into the ocean to drown for eternity. Whatever else he is, he wants them dead as much as we do. You’re right about why we’re here.”
“And after? When the Nostroms are gone and he’s the last one standing?” Kalo’s eyes bored into hers. “What then, little fish? What happens when the Serpent has no more enemies to fight and turns his hunger on the only prey left?”
It was the same question she’d been asking herself. The same doubt that gnawed at her in the quiet moments when Raziel wasn’t watching.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I’d rather have him pointed at our enemies than at us. For now.”
Kalo studied her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “You sound like Grandmother Ebiti. She said something similar when she sent me after you.”
So Nadi had been right. Ebitihadsent Kalo. This wasn’t chance or fate—it was calculation. Just another move on another game board.
