Nadi felt adrenaline and rage boil up in her as fast as lightning. “There was no such thing, Kalo, knock it thefuckoff.”
Raziel laughed. “Oh, this is going to begood.”
“There was almost a betrothal,” Kalo corrected. He was cleaning his nails with a small knife, the perfect picture of casual disinterest. “Our mothers discussed it often. And in front of me.”
“You were a monster to me as a child! Constantly!” Nadi stood up and rounded on him. “All you did was pull my hair, tease me, be an absolute littleshit.And besides, discussing and deciding are two different things!”
“And what happened to end these discussions?” Raziel leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees.
Kalo’s knife stilled. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You did,vuampi.”
The mood snapped like a tendon. Visceral. Painful.
“Her family was slaughtered,” Kalo continued, not looking at either of them. “And she vanished. Went off to the surface to play assassin. Left everything—everyone—aside. She could have come home. But she didn’t. She ran.”
“I didn’trun away.”Nadi’s voice came out sharper than she intended. “I went to get revenge.”
“And how has that worked out for you?” Kalo finally looked up, and there was agony in his silver eyes. It made Nadi’s chest ache with a guilt she’d spent decades trying to bury. “You left. That’s all that mattered to those of us who stayed.”
Raziel was watching the exchange with an expression Nadi couldn’t read. His usual sardonic mask had gone, revealing something that might have been understanding. Or calculation. With him, it was impossible to tell.
“And you waited for her,” Raziel said. It wasn’t a question.
Kalo’s laugh was bitter.“I am not a fool, bloodsucker! I stopped waiting a long time ago.” He sheathed his knife as though he were slamming a door. “But that does not mean I forgot all those nights I was.”
Nadi opened her mouth to say something—fuck if she knew what—but Kalo was already standing, brushing off his clothes with deliberate casualness.
“I’ll take first watch. I don’t trust either of you. Get rest.” His tone made it clear the conversation was over. “We’ve got two more days to go, maybe one if we’re lucky. And I don’t want to have to carry either of you.”
He walked off toward the cavern entrance, his silhouette muddy against the dim glow of the vines.
Nadi felt Raziel’s gaze on her, but she refused to turn her head.
“He loved you,” he observed.
“Don’t.” The word came out strangled.
“I’m not judging, little murderer.” He shifted on his stone seat, and she heard the soft rustle of fabric. “I am simply observing. He loved you. Perhaps still does. And you left him to pursue a vendetta against my family.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Wasn’t it?” His voice was almost gentle, which made it so much worse. “Tell me, Nadi. What was it like, then? What was the life you gave up to become what you are?”
She finally turned to look at him. In the blue-green light of the flowers, his features looked more inhuman. More predator than man. Sharper. Paler. The monster beneath the polished surface.
But his eyes—those damned crimson eyes—held something that looked like genuine sympathy. And more than that.
Love.
Fuck him. Fuck him for always knowing how to reel her back in.
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I was young. We were both young. We fought constantly. He used to tease me until I cried, and I used to threaten to drown him in the nearest underground river.”
“Charming courtship.”
“Like you have any grounds to judge.”
“Mm. Fair point.” He chuckled.
