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After mine, I’d had no one to talk to about it—how the blood had stained my hands, how my dreams had been filled with his dying breaths.
Isiah had tried to coax answers from me a year later, but by then, it had been too late. There would be no washing my hands or my thoughts of that kill.
“I should have known I’d have to do that at some point,” she said, turning her piercing stare to me. Water lined her lower lids, but she didn’t allow those tears to fall. Kiara was stubborn, even in her grief.
“I felt like this after my first kill.” My throat constricted the second after I spoke.
I shouldn’t be discussing this with her, but the way her brow creased and her eyes shone with water was a torture unlike anything I’d ever known. I just wanted it to go away.
“I was thirteen,” I continued.
Kiara went rigid in my arms, concern marring her delicate features.
“My father…he wasn’t a good man. He was a criminal who trained me from a young age to fight. To be useful to him and his band of rogues.” I swallowed down my hatred, my searing hot loathing for the man who’d given me life.
“One day, my father told me we were going to attack a carriage off the main road leading to the capital. I had been a part of a few assaults before, so I expected it to be some courtier or wealthy merchant. I was wrong.”
I lifted my head to the rocky ceiling, avoiding her eyes. The worry in them made my skin itch.
“This particular carriage was guarded by fifteen or so trained soldiers. A few of my father’s men were struck down immediately. My father, on the other hand, was caught in a fierce scuffle with a giant of a soldier. I’d been too frightened at the time to fully recognize the royal tunics the guards wore, but I understood that my father was on the losing end of the fight.
“The guard flipped him onto his back, and when he raised a silver blade high in the air, set to bring it down into his heart, I just reacted. Before my mind could catch up, I’d flung my dagger into the back of the man’s head. The soldier died instantly, his body falling onto my father, who was drenched in his blood.”
Kiara’s hand reached out to grasp mine, squeezing. I glanced down to where we connected, my jaw twitching. There was no hesitation this time when she curved her fingers around mine.
“What happened then?” she asked in a shaky whisper.
I pulled my hand back. The look of hurt that crossed her face stung.
“Then the carriage door opened, and a masked man stepped out. I remember he wore the finest clothes I’d ever seen, his mask a pure silver that gleamed beneath the moonlight. He was stately and robust and carried himself as though he were above it all. It wasn’t until later that I realized why he held himself in such a way. That man was the king.”
She gasped. “King Cirian?!”
I nodded. “My father was subdued easily enough by one of his guards, held on his knees in the dirt. The king approached me, assessing me with each step he took. I thought he’d kill me on the spot, but then he handed me a jeweled dagger from his belt, a shining ruby on the hilt. He told me I had two choices. That I could either die alongside my father and his men, or…or I could execute him and live.”
Her mouth fell open. She likely wondered what type of man would make achildchoose between killing their own blood or living. Cirian enjoyed his games, and I’d been just another toy for him to play with that day.
“As you can see, I am before you now.” I chuckled, the sound coming out strangled and pained. Now I just wanted to drop the entire conversation. Regret tore through me at even bringing it up.
“But what happened after? Where did you go?” she pressed, and it took everything in me not to shove her away. Every nerve became electrified, painful. I wanted to run and not look back at her sympathetic face. It tore me to pieces.
“The king was impressed with me,” I ground out, my nostrils flaring. “He was impressed with the way I didn’t hesitate to take his blade and stab my father in the heart, and he decided he could use someone like me. One who didn’t shy away from violence. I was with the Guard for the next year, and shortly after, the Knights recruited me.”
“Do you regret what you did?” Kiara asked, toying with the hem of one of her gloves.
Gods, I wanted to know what they concealed, but she’d tell me when she was ready.Ifshe ever was.
“No, I regretted nothing,” I replied curtly, without pause. “My father was a wicked man. A man who took great joy in using his fists and exploiting his only child for his own gains. There wasn’t a drop of love inside of him. Not for me, at least.”
“But he was still your father—”
“He was no father of mine,” I interjected. “A man who treats his kin like that is not a man at all. The world became a better place after he was gone. Though I can’t blame you for not understanding,” I grumbled, feeling as if her concern had shifted to judgment, just like everyone else’s.
“I don’t condemn you for what you did.” She held my stare, the conviction in her tone shocking me. “You did what you had to in order to survive. And at the end of the day, that’s all that matters.”
“I highly doubt that,” I growled, my upper lip twitching. “Most of my fellow Knights look at me in disgust for slaying my own father. I cannot fathom how you could not feel revulsion as well.”
Her hand seized mine once more, this time her grip unrelenting. “I thought you knew me better than that,” she argued, bringing her other hand to cup the side of my face.
