Page 70 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“I— I don’t know why he told me,” she says. “I just, I thought you should know. If we’re not keeping any secrets.”

The sound that comes out of me is almost a laugh. I choke it back, try to turn it into a cough.

“Thank you,” I say, finally managing to dredge up an appropriate response to her honesty.

She falls silent again. I tip my head back against the hard wooden seat and close my eyes. The story beats against the inside of my chest like a bird trapped in a cage, throwing itself against the bars. Why would Syvan tell her about Gerrart? Was it just to torture me?

“What did he tell you?” I whisper, half hoping she’s fallen asleep this time.

Lilias shifts against my chest. Her skirts rustle.

“That he died,” she says in a low voice. “And that it was drugs. I— I’m sorry.”

I sigh. “That’s all?”

She hesitates. There’s no way in the nine hells that Syvan would leave out the most insidious part of the story, the part that everyone in Vsenrog threw in my face for years. The only part of the story that wasn’t true.

“He said the drugs were for you,” Lilias whispers quickly, like she’s trying to get the words out before she can change her mind. She pulls back, then turns to frown at me. “Or from you. But that can’t be true. You hate drugs.”

“I do hate drugs,” I reply. “And the story’s not true. The shit that killed Gerrart, it didn’t come from me. Just like your father’s not sick, is he? But does it matter what’s actually true if everyone believes something else?”

Her frown deepens. The story burns inside me. I’ve never told anyone what happened that night. Not even Petrys knows.

“Still,” I whisper as rain patters the wood above us. “It was my fault.”

I close my eyes and tip my head back so I don’t have to see the look on her face. Anger, confusion, disbelief, sure, I’d take any of those.

But sympathy? I hate it when people look like they feel sorry for me. As if I’m deserving of sympathy, here in prince’s clothes, in the godsdamned palace of Vsenrog.

“Gerrart hated it here,” I say. “More than me, more than Petrys. He was miserable, and I— I knew it.” My voice pinches. I pause, then push on. “I don’t know when the drugs started, but I know why. Someone thought it would be a good way to control us, to have something to hold over our heads, something to exchange for information. But for Gerrart, he just— He just wanted to feel happy again, I think.”

Lilias makes a soft little sound in the back of her throat. I ignore it.

“I knew about it,” I continue. “Hells, I might have been the only one who did, aside from whoever was giving him that shit. I confronted him about it, screamed at him, but I⁠—”

My voice cracks. I swallow hard.

“I didn’t help him,” I admit. Guilt pulses inside my gut like a living being, a parasite feeding on all the many things I’ve done wrong. “I knew he was suffering, and I just screamed at him.”

Lilias gasps again. “Gods, Zarek,” she whispers. “It wasn’t your fault.”

I shake my head, then run my hand through my hair. My eyes burn. All these years gone by, and the weight of Gerrart’s cold body in that empty stall still rests on my shoulders.

“I’m so sorry,” Lilias says into the silence between us. “To lose a friend like that⁠—”

“He was my brother,” I admit.

She doesn’t reply.

I suck in a breath. Why in the gods’ many names did I just admit that? I’m treading far too close to the lie that’s kept me alive for all these years, the foundation upon which the snake’s entire life is built.

Lilias’s fingers close around mine. Her hand is warm and soft, and for some reason, her touch makes me want to cry.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, “for your loss.”

I open my mouth to thank her for her concern, but my throat is too tight to form words. Instead, my arm wraps around her waist, and my head drops to rest against hers, and we hold each other as the wobbly little carriage carries us into the darkness.

Chapter 39