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Demos was silent for a long moment. “You’ll put yourself between Prisca and anyone who wants to hurt her without hesitation, every time. That’s all I need to know.”
It should have been enough. I didn’t need friendship with Prisca’s brothers. Especially not this one. But I found myself grinding my teeth anyway.
“You would likely have preferred someone like Thol for her.” I managed to keep my voice carefully neutral, shoving the bitterness down where it ate away at my ability to reason.
The other man was dead. We hadn’t yet been able to remove his body from those caves to give him the burial he deserved. And yet some part of me was still deeply affronted at the knowledge that Prisca had once wished for a life with him.
Demos leaned back, angling his head. “You know, I talked to Tibris about Thol when he arrived at that inn. Tibris said Thol once told him he was going to marry Prisca. And yet he would have killed her for what happened in that village—without proof she was truly at fault. You would never have considered such a thing. In his place, you would have hunted her so you could protect her.
“If Prisca had been responsible for such slaughter, you would have prioritized her over anyone else. Even if she had been the one to kill all those people herself, you would have refused to allow anyone to punish her.”
I wished I could argue with him. Could pretend I lived by a more stringent code of ethics. But my moral compass had always been broken—especially when it came to my wildcat. Demos was right. No matter what Prisca did—even if she was to truly become a monster—I would be by her side. If she ever lost the part of her that could reason, I would hide her away and guard her for the rest of my life.
Even if it meant losing everything else.
Demos nodded at whatever he saw on my face. “Thol’s problem was that he could never love her enough. Your problem is the opposite. You may just love her too much. Since I don’t believe my sister will ever become a threat to innocents, I prefer your unhinged kind of love. But if I ever think you’re likely to corrupt her, I will find a way to end you.”
* * *
In the dimly lit confines of my cell, all sound had disappeared, until I could no longer hear the guards’ footsteps. My limbs tingled, as if they, too, were fading away.
Something had cracked open inside my chest—a part of me sucked into a void, now irretrievably lost.
Cavis’s eyes meeting mine. No fear for himself. No, he’d been terrified for me. The rest had been fury and a hint of relief.
I was haunted by death.
My parents, Mama, Wila, all of the villagers, my neighbors, Thol, Cavis.
Reality sank into me, draining the strength from my muscles.
I wasn’t getting out of this cell.
Cavis was gone, and when Regner arrived, I would die too—likely in a particularly gruesome, public manner.
Perhaps I would do more for my people in death than I’d ever done for them alive. At least if I died, they might rally behind my empty throne.
The thought chilled me. I didn’t want to die. But my mind provided me with the sight of my village on that last day before I’d left. Only, instead of children playing in the village square, they were buried in a mass grave near the forest. Herica’s bakery was splattered with blood, my friend’s last moments nothing but terror. Abus, Natan, Chista, even Kreilor. None of them had deserved to die. All of them were gone.
I lifted my hand, examining the space where Thol’s blood vow had sat. The line had disappeared with his death. Now, I was down to just two. Lorian’s vow to me, and my vow to the pirate queen.
If I lived…if I somehow made it out of this cell…I would have to tell Lorian, would have to tell Sybella that Cavis was never coming home. Cavis, who should have stayed at camp with his family where he was safe and who’d, instead, followed me.
The wounds Soltor had opened mustn’t have healed after all. Because I was bleeding out. And the thought of not waking up…
For the first time, death seemed like a mercy.
What was the point of it all? Regner had been spreading his poison and slaughtering our people for centuries. He always seemed one step ahead of us. We would die. Over and over again, we would die. Dying early in this war might be a blessing. At least this way, I wouldn’t have to watch my friends and family be slaughtered one by one.
I wouldn’t get to see Lorian again. Would never look into those wild green eyes. Would never feel his hands on my skin or simply breathe in the scent of him.
I would never see my brothers. Would never get to see the kind of men they would become years from now. They might draw closer to each other after this. Already, I’d caught glimpses of moments when they were almost…friends. Or, this might just kill any kind of relationship between them.
Asinia…she was one of the strongest people I knew, and yet this might break her. She was still mourning her mother. Still cried at night. I knew because in the mornings, her face was puffy. Unlike me, she was working through her grief instead of attempting to pretend it didn’t exist.
And Telean. I had represented her hope. She’d once told me that she saw so much of my mother in me, it both hurt and helped. My aunt was so fierce, so determined to save our people, and she’d believed in me. Truly, down to her bones, believed I could do it.
Had I told them I loved them? Did they know?
