“And it wasn’t a courtship.” She sat down beside him, pulling her knees up to her chest. He put an arm around her gently. “It was just…what it was. Two clans that traveled together. Two children who grew up in each other’s orbit. Everyone assumed it would turn into something more, eventually.”
“But it didn’t?”
“I don’t know. No. Maybe? Memories get weird over time.” She rested her chin on her knees. “It might have. But it never got the chance. Because you murdered my family, and I decided revenge was more important than everything else.”
The silence stretched between them, filled with the soft sounds of the cavern—the trickle of water, the chirping of unseen creatures, and the occasional click from thechancha.
“Do you regret it?” His voice was quiet.
She took a moment to think about it. Really think about it. Turned it over in her mind like a knife in her palm. It was just as dangerous as one.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I don’t know if I would have been happy with him. With that life. I don’t know if I would have been a good wife, or a good mother, or any of the other things that would have been required of me. It’s a different part of my personality I never got to explore. No? But…”
“But?”
“But I don’t know. I think part of me will always resent the fact that I never had the chance to find out.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Instead, I had that taken from me.”
Raziel was quiet once more, for a long moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler than she’d ever heard it. “I cannot give you back what I took from you. But I can help you burn down the structures responsible for helping me take it.”
She laughed, the sound hollow. “Was that meant to be romantic?”
“As best as I can manage.” He pulled her tighter to his side. “I never said I was a good man. But I’m yours, for whatever that’s worth.”
She leaned her head against him. “At least as much as the gold coin you have in your pocket, I’d wager.”
He laughed quietly. “At least as much as that, yes.”
They sat like that for some time, neither speaking.
Somewhere in the dark, Kalo kept his watch, a silent reminder of paths not taken.
And futures that would never be.
NINE
The second day was worse.
Kalo had apparently decided that if he was going to be forced to travel with a vampire, he might as well get some entertainment out of it. Which meant an endless stream of questions and observations about Nadi, each one more pointed than the last.
“Did she tell you about the first time she tried to learn to fight with knives?” Kalo called back as they navigated a particularly narrow passage. The walls pressed close on either side, slick with moisture and alive with crawling things that Nadi preferred not to examine too closely.
“I don’t believe she has,” Raziel replied, sounding far too pleased.
“Cut herself so badly her mother had to carry her to the healers. Blood everywhere. She was maybe ten summers.”
“Fascinating. And yet she’s quite proficient now. Natural talent, or did she simply practice until she stopped bleeding?”
“Stubbornness, mostly.” Kalo’s voice carried a hint of grudging respect. “Girl never knew when to quit.”
“That, I have noticed.” Raziel’s gaze found Nadi’s through the gloom. “It’s one of her more infuriating qualities.”
“You know I’m right here?” Nadi snapped. “I can hear both of you.”
“We’re aware, little fish.” Kalo didn’t even bother to look back.
“Keenly aware,” Raziel agreed.
She was going to kill them both.
