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And…it wouldn’t.
I looked down at my arms, the sleeves of my tunic rolled up to my elbows. I stared at where Poppy had dug into my flesh with her nails in her panic and desperation—her fury and agony. The scratches she’d left on my forearms had faded, but I swore I could still see them.
Exhaling roughly, I dropped my head into my hands, pressing the tips of my fingers to my forehead and temples. Guilt churned as I sat there. What had gone down during the Rite hadn’t been what I’d planned—what I wanted. But I was still responsible. Hundreds had died, and the overwhelming majority of them were mortal. Some had been enablers, but too many had been innocent. There had been so many funerals that multiple ones had been held at once. Their blood was on my hands.
And as fucked-up as it sounded, I could live with that. I had to. But what was hard to swallow? That I’d caused her pain. A rough laugh left me as I smoothed my palms down my face. It wasn’t like I hadn’t known the kind of hell I would unleash when I set out to take the Maiden and use her to free my brother. I knew I would stir the Descenters, likely inciting them to a violent insurrection. I knew I would cause innocent people to lose their lives. And I’d known that I would come into the Maiden’s life like a storm, destroying everything she knew in the process—perhaps even her.
I’d accepted that.
It was a price I’d been willing to pay, and the cost I would force others to endure because I knew that no matter how many died at my hands or because of my actions, it would pale in comparison to the lives lost if my father rode our armies into Solis. Millions would die. This was the whole greater-good shit…
With a dose of retribution.
But what I hadn’t expected was her. Poppy. Any preconceived notions I’d had about her had been wrong. Poppy wasn’t quiet and submissive, nor was she a willing participant. She was like so many others who either didn’t know better or, out of self-preservation, didn’t want to look too closely at all the things that didn’t add up around them. I hadn’t wanted her to be kind, but I could’ve dealt with that. What I couldn’t deal with was how brave she was. How much of a fighter she was.
I hadn’t expected to like the Maiden, not enough that I would strive to make her happy, smile, and laugh.
I hadn’t expected to care for the Maiden, not enough that I would sit and think of another way for this to work. For me to get what I needed and for her to have what she wanted: a life. Freedom.
I hadn’t expected to desire the Maiden, not enough that even now, my blood quickened at the memory of the taste of her lips and the feel of her bare flesh beneath my hands.
And I sure as hell hadn’t expected how I changed around her, enough that I quickly found myself not thinking about the past or the future and forgetting why I was here. Feeling calm. At peace.
Simply, I hadn’t expected to want. Because I hadn’t. Not in the years and decades since I’d been free. I hadn’t truly wanted a damn thing.
But I wanted those things for Poppy, and I wanted her.
So, now what?
I dropped my hands to the space between my knees and lifted my gaze. The wind lashed at the windows, chilling the chamber. I’d been summoned to the Duchess the day before. Jansen had been there. It had been a quick meeting. No coy smiles. She’d told me the Crown had grown concerned about the Maiden’s safety due to that last abduction attempt, just as the Duke had said during our initial meeting, and since word had already been sent to the capital notifying them of what had occurred at the Rite, she was confident the Crown’s response would be a summons. So much so, she had ordered the Commander to put together a group that would travel with the Maiden to Carsodonia.
I was getting what I came for. What I needed. I would be escorting her out of Masadonia with the Crown’s permission.
But it wasn’t what I wanted.
Scenario after scenario played out as I sat there, trying to figure out how I could at least give Poppy freedom when this was over. Different options. Choices. But they were all half-baked impossibilities.
A soft whimper drew me from my thoughts. I twisted at the waist as Poppy shuddered, her hands clenching at the blanket Tawny had so carefully tucked around her.
Her cheeks were damp.
Pressure settled in my chest as I smoothed the tears from her face. “It’s okay,” I told her. “You’re not alone. I’m here. It’s okay.”
