“Come inside before you wake up the whole castle,” he says, leaving the door open for me to follow.
“I thought you’d stopped,” I hiss as I shove the door shut behind me, briefly registering that we’re in what must be his bedroom. “You as good as promised that you wouldn’t enter my head without my permission anymore, and then I find you spying on me when I’masleep. How long have you been doing this?” I demand, my gut twisting at the thought that he could’ve been creeping into my mind every night without me knowing.
He looks offended. “This was the first time. I felt you having a nightmare across the bond—I could sense your distress. I wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“I’m a lot fucking worse knowing you completely invaded my privacy,” I snap.
“I was doing it to keep you safe!” he throws back. “To keep us all safe!” He pulls his hand through his dark hair like he always does when I’m frustrating him.
“What are you talking about?” I demand.
Another flash of annoyance crosses his face, though this time I think it’s directed at himself.
“It doesn’t matter. The point is I saw your dream and?—”
“No,” I say angrily, throwing up a hand to halt his words. His changing the subject only riles me further. Knowing Syrus, there’s a reason he was checking on me when he knew I couldn’t guard my thoughts, one that isn’t about some fucked-up voyeurism. Yesterday, he didn’t like it at all when I suggested the ephilium might not be the culprits we’re looking for, and he seemed suspicious when I said they let me go. Now he’s talking about keeping people safe.
He wasn’t suspicious of the ephilium—well, at least no more than usual. He was suspicious ofme.
Does he suspect me of working with them? It would explain why he keeps trying to put distance between us, and why he keeps suggesting that I’m difficult to trust. If that’s true, then offering me a chance to walk away from our deal was a test—one I failed miserably.
“Syrus,” I say, my voice more even. I’m still angry, but the sharp edge of my rage has dulled with this realization. “You have to believe that I’m on your side.”
I take a step toward him, trying to find the words to make him understand. “I’ve seen the mireborn suffer. I know how important the lake can be for people needing a second chance.” I put a hand to my chest. “Believe me when I say that I want to help, not just because of our deal.”
His red eyes soften, and he sighs. “I do believe that. But sometimes there are forces beyond our control. And I have to be careful to keep this domain safe.”
I drag my eyes over the runes covering his skin. After what he’s given up to protect his people—whether in Strata or here in Malice—can I blame him for being a little paranoid?
When it’s clear I’m not going to immediately start arguing with him again, he circles back around to my dream.
“That nightmare you were having…” he says, then hesitates.
“It happened a long time ago,” I say, wrapping my arms around myself. “When I first started scavenging.”
“Is that why you’ve been holding back during training?” he asks. “Because you’re afraid of repeating what happened that day?”
I can’t meet his eyes, staring at the floor instead, but I give a little nod.
“He was going to kill you, Leah. You did what you had to do.”
I grimace. “If I’d just given up that fucking piece of armor?—”
“But you didn’t,” he says decisively. “You were defending what was yours, and he chose to take things too far. And when he did, you were strong enough to survive.”
I hate his comforting words and the way he says them—firm, but without any edge. If he was soft and gentle, it would make it easier to dismiss what he was saying as empty kindness. But this…this is getting through to me like nothing has before. Tears prick the back of my eyes.
“It wasn’t worth it,” I say.
He closes the distance between us, taking my chin in his fingers and drawing my face up so I’m forced to look at him.
“No, you don’t thinkyou’reworth it. That’s the problem. You fight so hard—want to live on your own terms so badly—but when people push too hard, you back down. Because deep down, you’re afraid you don’t deserve the life you want.”
His thumb strokes my cheek lightly, studying my face for signs I disagree. The problem is he’s doing that thing when he sees me too clearly, and I can’t argue.
“But you do deserve it, Leah,” he murmurs. “You deserve everything. And I would give it to you if I could. But some things you have to take for yourself.”
“Is that what you do?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know the answer. Until now, I’ve only ever seen him fight for other people rather than himself.
