Page 81 of Embers of Ruin

His expression softens. “No.”

Whatever exists between us, whatever almost happened between us, we both know it can’t become anything more. And if I’m being honest—I don’t think there ever could be.

I swallow. “Good.”

“Good?”

“Yes. Good.” I lift my chin. “I have more than enough complications without adding you to the list.”

A quiet laugh escapes him, but there’s something sad beneath it. “For once, we agree.”

I meet his gaze again. “Then we leave it alone.”

He hesitates only a moment before nodding. “We leave it alone.”

I nod, letting the matter die between us.

For now.

“What does Thorin need in my mind?”

Onyx looks away, and I see guilt in his expression but he shuts it down quickly.

My pulse quickens because now I know for certain that he's protecting something. No—not something. Someone. The look he gave Thorin in the Sacred Gardens flashes through my mind. The disbelief. The anger. The clenched fists. It wasn't because Thorin entered my mind. It was because of what Thorin found there. And Onyx already knew.

I hold his gaze.

“You're protecting the king, and you knew what he would find when he entered my mind.”

His silence tells me everything I need to know. I stare at him. He exhales through his nose and looks down the empty corridor as if answers might be hiding somewhere along the stone walls.

“I know that something is there. That is all.”

My mouth goes dry. “No more lies. No more fucking lies, Onyx. One more and I swear—I can’t take much more of this. One more lie and I’ll break and neither of you will reach me. I will never, ever speak to you again. I mean it. Tell me, why would something be there?”

His silence stretches. I hate silence now. It makes me want to rage, scream, and throw things around. I have never had this type of temperament in my life, but manipulation can certainly do that to a person.

I used to live inside it. Silence used to mean safety. Silence meant no one was asking questions, no one was whispering, no one was looking too closely at the girl with silver hair who could work miracles. Now silence is a locked door, and I am on the wrong side of every one.

“Onyx!” I shout his name and his eyes come back to mine.

For a moment, I see it again. Guilt. That one is always so easy to read. But his is not the small kind. Not the guilt of a man who has told a lie to avoid discomfort. This is deeper. Older. The kind that has roots.

“I don’t know what’s there,” he says quietly. “But I think someone made sure you wouldn’t either.”

The corridor seems to tilt and my hand tightens around his arm. Someone. Not something. Someone.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means,” he says, voice rougher now, “that you need to be careful what doors you let him open.”

My laugh comes out shaken. “I am not exactly handing him keys.”

“No,” Onyx says. “But the king has never been good at leaving locked things alone.”

Again, that certainty, and history. I will get to the bottom of their story at a later time. I take a step back because standing too close to him while thinking about Thorin inside my mind is too confusing, and I am tired of confusion wearing different faces.

“Why do you stay?” I ask.