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Do you have any idea how dangerous this is ... for the whole city ...
I didn’t want to believe him. I reasoned that my actions could only bring harm to me, which was a risk worth taking. Nausea climbs up my insides and grasps me with clammy hands when I realize I could be the reason people have died.
No, I will not be telling this stranger anything about my gift.
I shake my head, look him in the eye, and smile wanly. “Nothing.”
He lifts his clasped hands and rests his chin on them. “You really didn’t know about any of this?”
I shake my head. I wasn’t forbidden from coming to Utsanek, but I felt bound to my father. The black mood that possesses him is deeper than any I have seen him endure before. I can’t allow myself to imagine what would happen if he didn’t have anyone there for him. And I went and called him names, accused him of wallowing. How could that possibly help him? The regret tastes bitter on my tongue.
But these are not things I can tell someone I’ve just met.
Belwyn says nothing for a while, his thoughtful eyes staying on me as though he can read my mind. The idea is ridiculous, but still, I can’t bear looking at him for more than a few seconds. I find the grooves of the tabletop much more agreeable.
“I wanted to go after you, you know.”
“What?” My eyes dart up.
“When my father came back from the Hunt, and you confronted him. I saw the whole thing.”
A chill quickly chases away the heat that races up my arms. He wanted to follow me? I try to swallow and find my mouth has gone dry. Instead of asking him why he would do such a thing, all that comes out is, “Your. . . father?”
He nods, a grimace gripping his features. “Yeah, I’m the son of the Foremost. Or at least one of them.”
It’s like I have been hit by a mighty wave, tossing me between the unexpected admission that he cares for me—at least in some unexplored way—and that he is the son of the man I hate most in the world. I was right to be cautious around him.
The stool screeches against the stone floor as I get to my feet. “I should go.”
Belwyn’s eyes narrow. “Look, I know he can be harsh, but—”
“This has nothing to do with him,” I say, fumbling to slide the stool back under the table.
“Are you sure?” he asks, brows descending as he gets to his feet. “Because that’s not what it looks like.”
I give my head a feverish shake. “No, it’s—I’m not sure I should even be here right now. And ... with the riot and everything—”
He crosses the room and places himself between me and the door, suddenly severe. Unpredictable. “I am not my father, you know,” he says, his voice affected, his dark eyes flashing.
I bite my lip and meet his gaze, struggling to breathe when he’s so near. “You are close enough.”Too close.Dangerous.
He stares at me intently, and for an instant, I am afraid. Some unstable emotion rages behind his eyes—because of me or because of his own familial ties, I cannot tell. When his hands tense, I flinch. His eyes graze my jaw, my throat, landing on the pendant. His voice flattens. “You should get rid of that thing, you know. It could get someone killed.”
My fingers find the precious metal. I know each angle by heart. The tiny shape is warm, shining with a light untouched by the ténesomni. Perhaps it is dangerous, but there are far worse evils. I press it to my skin and raise my chin.
“And you might want to question why we think killing the light will free us from darkness.”
Without giving him a chance to respond, I step around him, unlatch the door, and escape down the street.
13. Belwyn
BELWYN
A COMMOTION SOUNDS IN THE ALLEY. Something’s happening. But my feet fuse to the spot.
She was afraid of me. I saw it in her face.
My fingers curl inwards, inch by inch, until the blood flow in my fists stops, and the palms of my hands scream out in pain. I forget to breathe.
