We round the corner. There it is: the sea. The ground slopes down to where the waves crash. A dozen sea-spires jut up from the water, arches and black columns that break up the view of the horizon.
“Of course. You said you lost your parents in a shipwreck.”
“That isn’t what I…”
“You were attacked?”
Gods, this terrible man won’t let me have a break.
I blink rapidly and shake my head. The memories rise like a tide, one I can’t escape from. Like I’m running and the ground is crumbling away with every step.
“I… I don’t know. Something happened. I remember being scared.”
“Of what?”
“There was a fire. We were sinking…” I blink again. I can almost hear a voice, almost see… “My father threw me in the water,” I say hoarsely.
“Someone must have pulled you out.”
“There was something down there. I heard a voice? And then a Hellion saved me.”
“So that’s when you bonded to the kraken? Did that Hellion sink your parent’s ship?” Roiven asks calmly. He strips his shoes off and begins rolling up his pants.
“No,” I say fiercely. “Of course not. It couldn’t… maybe my parents were merchants, or travelers… the War-Father never liked to discuss it.”
“Thatthingraised you?” Roiven asks darkly.
“The War-Father isn't athing.”
“If it was ever human, it isn’t now.”
The memory struggles to emerge. I hear someone scream; feel my father’s arms crushing my shoulders. My mother yelling, begging someone or something to save me. Blood, and bodies, and there are men with armor and swords—knights, but surely they were there to help, not kill us—then I’m falling, and the water crashes over my head, and I feelitbeneath the waves…
The pain sharpens, and sharpens, until tears prick my eyes and I grit my teeth.It isn’t true. Think of something else. Anything else.
“Cai.”
I whimper. The pain is worse than it’s ever been. I feel like someone’s cutting my head in two. And no matter how much I try to focus on my love of the Empire, this time, it doesn’t stop. Roiven’s fingers tilt my chin up. The pain is so bad I keep my eyes squeezed shut, unwilling to let any light in. A tear escapes and slides down my cheek. I gasp with pain.
“What’s wrong?” Roiven asks sharply.
“Hurts.” I barely get the word out.I’m not a witch. Please, stop. I know I’m not a witch.
“Your head?” His voice is a dangerously low whisper. I nod.
Roiven lets go of my chin and rests a finger lightly on my forehead. He draws lines there, his fingertip gentle as it curves over my skin, painting smooth flesh and scar alike with his touch. It's soothing, lines of calm against the fire in my head.
The pounding feeling lessens to a dull thrum, easily ignored.
“Better?” he murmurs. The pain fades entirely, but my shoulders are still tight, my hands shaking. My cheeks are wet from the tears.
“How…? What did you do?” I blink up at him carefully, bracing myself for the daylight to hurt my eyes. He’s standing closer than I realized, studying me. Roiven’s face is inches from my own.
“Witchraft,” Roiven says as I stare at his lips. “Unbearably evil, I know.” He turns and walks toward the waves. I stay paralyzed, unwilling to follow.
The War-Father was the one who attacked my parent’s ship. Which means he was trying to kill them. Which means odds are high that my parents were…
Like Roiven. That they came from a place like this, with people like these. That I was a child like the ones playing in the ravine.
