“A Hellion,” I remind him, and turn, even though he isn’t done yet. He lets go of my hair and stands there with the brush raised, looking down at me. “You can’t regret attacking a Hellion. We were in your lands.”
Even though I know better now, my ship’s loss still makes my chest ache. The people on Rampage weren’t evil, at least, not all of them. They were just people. The berth-boys were shipped off to fight and die, the Enchanted were consecrated to pour themselves into crystal, and if Harfor turned out to be a heartless zealot, well, so was I.
Maybe the great evil of the Empire was the banality of it all, and the lies we were raised to believe. How can I fight that?
“...No,” Roiven agrees. “I don’t regret that, exactly. But I can wish I met you some other way. I can wishIwasn’t the one who hurt you.”
“I’m glad I didn’t win. You’d be dead. And I’d still be one of them.”
There’s a silence. Roiven nudges my shoulder and reaches for my hair again. I turn and he continues brushing. I gulp.
“For my part… I’m sorry for what happened at the Bluff. When your people came to rescue you,” I say. My whole body feels tense with shame.
His hands freeze for a moment. Roiven’s knuckles brush against the back of my neck as he grips a section of my hair.
“They knew the risk,” he whispers.
“How can you bear to touch me, after everything? How can you look me in the eye and feel anything but hatred?”
His hands still haven’t moved. I close my eyes, my whole world narrowed to the feeling of his knuckles against my neck, and wait. In my gut, despite everything I’ve felt through the bond, I’m sure he’s going to tell me that he hates me, because that’s what I deserve. But I’m beginning to think it will destroy me.
“I hate the Empire,” Roiven says. “But you… aren’t them.”
“I was, though. And recently.”
“They took you from us and made you that.”
I turn around again, and he lets go of my hair. I need to look him in the eyes. My heart pounds.
“Roiven, you’re making excuses. I’ve done terrible things. Things you could never—”
He brings a hand up and rests it on the right side of my face, his thumb running over the scars Sava left.
“I know,” Roiven says. “I know. Believe it or not, Cai, I’ve done terrible things too. I’ve killed sailors who tried to surrender because I was too angry to let them live.”
“Oh.”
“They fed you lies and Enchanted you. It could have been me, or anyone, and I can’t say I wouldn’t have become just like you did. And you made up your mind before I even got that enchantment off you.”
“Still.” If he ignores the truth now, and then later realizes he should never have been kind to me, I won’t survive it. I don’t think I could bear to feel him hate me. And I’m not sure I want him to bekind to me now at all. It makes me feel guilty, like I’m hiding the truth about who I am from him. Even if he’s the only one refusing to see it.
“Do you know how we formed the bond so quickly?” he asks. I think back to Aria, asking me whether it took more or less than a day.
“The kraken,” I answer. He’s made clear my familiar is the source of my power.
“No. Most kin bonds take time. Hours, at least, of just working on the bond before the marks grow on your skin. Some couples are at it for weeks; some find it so challenging they take it as a sign of incompatibility and part ways. But you can’t just meet someone and forge a bond this strong.”
“But ours was…”
“Some people go together easier than others,” Roiven whispers. “Our magic knows us better than we know ourselves. When I made that deal with you, I had to say it would be permanent, because that's the risk. But I didn’t think the bond would form all the way, not if we only tried for an hour or so. I thought it would just give me a grip on you, then fade away over time. But it didn’t. In a matter of seconds our magics tied us together, for good.”
“Fate?” I whisper.
“No,” Roiven counters. “Bonds this fast are rare, but they still grow from choice. You could have said no. Or I could have stopped asking. And we’d never have known.”
My heart falters as I stare at him, trying to wrap my mind around this. Around the idea of Roiven and I belonging together. My body and my heart agree that it feels natural; that I want him the way I want air, and water; that we are halves of a whole. That last night felt right in a way that had nothing to do with the lust and pleasure pounding through my veins.
But my head knows better. My head knows that even if he is no longer my enemy, I am still his doom. Because I cannot possibly be good for him.
