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His throat moved with a swallow. “They were incredibly powerful wyvern shifters. Their magic was significant, wielded with an ease few ever manage to learn and with a ruthlessness most don’t desire. Their fire could destroy entire navies before most would even realize they were in the skies. During the Great War, they laid waste to entire portions of both continents. Forests were destroyed, civilian ships were left to become ashes in the oceans, and livestock were glutted. Famine followed where they attacked.”

Dread sliced through me, worse than when I’d accidentally shattered the glass jar.

“How long was the war?”

He tilted his head. “Depends on who you ask. Most consider it to have spanned fifty-four years. A smaller faction argues it only lasted twenty-two.”

Fifty years.

“That’s… a really big discrepancy.”

He nodded. “Those who believe the short time also believe signing the Treaty of Losthallow was an asinine choice and that the last three hundred years have been a long road to ruin rather than the continual building to something greater than any one group could create on its own. Luckily, they are a small subset within our continents and hold little power.”

I tired to remember what Enoch said on Magefall.

“Does… Does Enoch ascribe to that view? He made it sound like he detested what the Treaty created, that he hated the Grand Rite.”

Callum was slower to respond. “Officially, none of the ruling orders ascribe to the shorter timeline. All five nations believe the creation and continuation of the Grand Rite have been a net positive for all of us including the Far Lands.” He tapped the sideboard. “There have been rumors that the Crown Prince is not so sanguine, though.”

He pushed off the sideboard and held out his hand as he closed the distance between us.

“Would you like to try again?”

Nerves swelled under my sternum, making it difficult to breathe. I quickly shook my head. I didn’t want to break another jar and cause him more pain. What if this time would be the one when he would get angry?

As if the thought were some revelation serum, I realized just why I was still so convinced he would walk out and decide this wasn’t something he wanted to try and make work even without the weight of my past assaults. The memory of that night in Wolfrest crystallized, the conversation between Amaria and Shelby when they thought I would be going back ho—to Arizona.

“Are the Alholím why people get scared when they see me? Did they look like me?”

Callum’s lips thinned as he gave a single, short nod. “They had black hair that shone blue in sunlight and gray eyes that seemed transparent at times, the same as their fire. It’s said they would also burn and churn like quicksilver, their pupils elongating when they were near to changing. Their skin was pale enough to see their veins. It also held the memory of their scales, the raised texture visible even in their mortal shape. Not unlike Joseph’s eyes and Jacob’s purr.”

I shored up my willingness to be vulnerable and asked the question that had plagued me subconsciously since hearing Shelby voice it in Wolfrest.

“And that’s why your court will hate me?”

His nostrils flared. I eased a half-step back.

“Who said they will hate you?”

The question was so low, it rumbled through the room. Pine slowly pulsed from him, tinged with his anger, acrid and uncomfortable. I swallowed an embarrassing noise and shook my head. No way was I going to throw Shelby under the bus when I wasn’t supposed to hear them at all.

His eyes fluttered closed, and he swallowed again, visibly controlling whatever strong reaction he was having. When he spoke, his voice was that soft croon he’d used earlier.

“Amethyst, no one will be in trouble. But I would like to know who has told you the court will dislike you.”

There was a command in those words, I was nearly positive. It was the same quiet demand he’d used a few times since that night with the urgul in the mountains. The truth fell from me in an unsteady heap.

“I overheard Shelby and Amaria talking about it in Wolfrest.”

His frown grew more pronounced. “Wolfrest?”

“They thought I was sleeping.” I picked at the sweater. “I’d tried to sleep but couldn’t quite manage before you got there, when you were still dealing with the urgul. I’d asked them both to stay with me. I was sc—” I choked on the word. “I was scared to be left alone in that home. So they sat with me. When they thought I was asleep, Shelby said that it was probably a good thing I was to return h-home.” It felt weird to call Arizona that at this point, even after only a few days since me staying here had become permanent. “When Amaria asked why, she mentioned the court would hate me because of how similar I am to the Alholím.”

His scent pulsed, and I swallowed a second sound. Then he took a deep breath and stretched his neck. That innate part of me that understood his scent, wanted to drown in it and press myself against him, relaxed. The urge to run lessened, and after another few heartbeats, I didn’t want to peel my skin off, either.

“There are those that will have trepidation, I imagine.” His voice was warmer than before. “But our court is not one to judge another by their complexion but by their actions and values. They will learn that you are compassionate and resilient and intelligent. That will matter much more than any resemblance you hold to the Alholím.”

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