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"Fine. Then think of something right now. Let me prove that I am not lying."
Kallie rolled her eyes. This little game of his was foolish, but she exhaled a heavy sigh and focused on her thoughts nevertheless.
She turned the dagger and examined her favorite weapon finally back in her hands. She hungered for some sense of familiarity and normalcy, something that had felt so far away these past few days. Even though Myra did not always approve of Kallie carrying a dagger, Myra had designed the dagger with the help of Ardentol's top blacksmith for Kallie's eighteenth birthday. If she was going to carry a weapon, Myra had told her, it better at least be one fit for the future queen. The hilt had a simple black leather strap that was wrapped tightly around the handle, perfectly fitted for Kallie's hand. The cross guards had a delicate gold botanical design which continued as it traveled along the center of the blade. Black writing was perfectly etched down the center in Myra's elegant handwriting in an ancient script Kallie did not know. But Kallie knew what the phrase on her dagger meant:You are the holder of your own fate.
She craved Myra's light laughter, her unwavering optimism that constantly boarded on the side of annoyance. And the thoughts made her sad, concerned for her friend's well-being.
"Myra's in good hands, Kals," Fynn said, his soft voice pulling her back from the memory, and her thoughts about Myra halted.
Her legs grew weak as she tried to remain standing. If he was telling her the truth about his gift, a piece of information that could be dangerous in the wrong hands, he might not be lying about being her brother as well. Her world was crashing down around her and she didn't know how to stop it. Her control was slipping.
"I—I don't understand," she stammered, unable to hide the shakiness in her voice.
“As I said, it's complicated." He shrugged a shoulder.
"Then, by the gods, make it uncomplicated!" Kallie's voice reverberated inside the stable. Her knuckles grew white around the dagger still clutched within her palm. If he wanted her to trust him, then he would need to provide her with more information than a simple obtuse statement.
"It would be better coming from our mother," Fynn said. "She has a way of explaining things that I do not possess."
She met his gaze. The outrage sitting at the bottom of her stomach from all of the lies that had just been laid out on the table steadied her. It gave her the strength she needed. "I don't care if you can read minds. I don't care if you claim to be my brother or that my mother—who I don't even remember, mind you—is alive. You've let loose this massive beast and expect what? Me to believe you?"
Her words came out like fire taken straight from the Beneath, but she couldn't stop them. They fell from her mouth without a second thought. She was enraged and no one would stifle the fire within her, not now, not ever. Even if some of her words were tainted with delusion. "I don't even know you! You killed my guards. You've separated me from my closest friend. I am not some fickle girl you can manipulate at your will—"
"No. You're right, Princess, because you're the one who does the manipulating," Graeson said, interrupting her.
He had taken a large step toward her. His proximity to her was nearly suffocating, but Kallie refrained from retreating, tipping her chin up. She was fuming. She was angry and broken. If what Fynn was telling her was true, then it meant that so many other things were . . . were what? A lie? A play on her emotions?
The fractures in her mind deepened. Kallie was spiraling. She needed to stop the tornado she was becoming before she was sucked into the center of its vortex.
She exhaled heavily and took a step toward Graeson, eliminating the small space between them. The toes of her shoes brushed against his, his breath kissed her forehead, and her grip around her dagger remained firm. "That might be the first true statement that has left your lips, Graeson."
She touched her gift, knowing very well she had already used it twice today. She could only push it so far. Still, it greeted her, sluggish but present. With her free hand, she grabbed a hold of his chin, the stubble scratching against her fingers. She wasn't taking any more chances, she wasn't waiting any longer.
A crooked smirk pushed at the corner of his lips and she had the sudden urge to slap it from his face. "If you wanted to kiss me, you could have just asked. No need for the charade, little mouse."
No. Slapping him would not be enough. His words made her want to stab him. And it would be easy to do so. Her dagger in her hand was warm against her palm, ready to strike. But it would be too easy.
And right now, she needed answers. For once in her life, neither stabbing nor kissing a person would grant her access to them.
"Tell me why you kidnapped me." Her voice was commanding and clear as she pulled her gift up to the surface.
Kallie searched Graeson's eyes for the sign that her manipulation was working on him. Her heart pounded. She had used her gift twice tonight, but it should still work. She had just enough left; she had felt it. But instead of the fog she was accustomed to seeing, his eyes became brighter, clearer.
She didn't understand. It hadn't worked at the stream or when they were traveling. But during each of those times, she had been low on food, water, or sleep. There was a clear reason. And perhaps she was truly empty right now. Perhaps she had used up all of her gift earlier in the night, even though she had thought she was getting stronger.
The dagger's hilt bit into her skin. Graeson smirked, his jaw flexing underneath her palm.
"It doesn't work on him, Kals," Fynn said quietly.
A fleeting thought passed through her that Fynn was reading her mind at that moment, but she didn't care about that instant of violation. All she cared about waswhyshe had failed. Again.
"What do you mean?" she bit out through her teeth, her grip still firm on Graeson's jaw.
Graeson wrapped his fingers around her wrist, his rings cold against her bare skin. "We have a lot to talk about, little mouse," Graeson said. His eyes flicked over her shoulder but they quickly returned to her as if it was nothing more than a twitch. His voice was low and rattled her insides when he addressed her again, "But the next time you want to know my true intent, all you have to do is ask. No need to force it out of me."
Anger and confusion flooded her system. Who she was, who she had been her entire life now stood on shaky ground. The new information about her past, her family, her life story caused a disturbance in the natural order of her system as the fractures created deeper cracks in her mind and her identity.
The residue of the last few days felt heavy on her skin. She became acutely aware of the fingers that didn't belong to her wrapped around her hand. It should have felt grounding, something to stabilize her at this moment when even the earth she stood on began to shake, but it seemed to have the opposite effect on her. She felt trapped. She needed to scream, she needed to rage. She needed to break out of the walls that seemed to be closing in around her.
