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“It does. That would again imply illusion, but…” I let my voice trail off. Because ultimately, it doesn’t matter. We’re not one thread closer to uncovering the ultimate truth than we were before. And there isn’t time to keep digging into it. There isn’t time to let her memories correct themselves.
I have to choose a bride by tomorrow night. Maybe my father would back down if I fought for more time, but we don’t have much to spare. More likely, he’ll choose someone for me.
And he absolutely will not choose her.
Yesterday, I didn’t care. Or at least I told myself I didn’t. But now…
My gaze returns to the woman before me. Moonlight glistens in her hair, shines on her cheeks. I’ve seen Alia under starlight so many times. Yet having been away so long, it’s like I’ve never seen her. Never touched her.
One hand curls into a fist, as if that will keep me grounded. Keep me from thinking what I’m thinking. From wanting what I’m wanting.
The memories of betrayal, of abandonment — they threaten to kill any attraction between us. Suck the life from us like my magic does. Yet if she didn’t betray me…
I can’t.
I need more time. I need to know.
But does it even matter? Does knowing the full truth change the fact that what I thought, what I’ve failed for so many years to get over, isn’t what happened? Even if I don’t know why or how, isn’t knowing it’s inaccurate enough?
The symphony of flowing water and night noises envelops the area, and I again let my eyes shut. Without the truth, there’s only moving forward. No understanding, no fixing — just a fresh start. New life, like she’s always brought me.
“What did you write in your letters?”
Her sudden murmur startles me enough that I flinch. Knots grind in my chest, and I set my jaw. “I don’t know if I’m ready to say.”
“That’s all right.” Her sweet voice caresses my ears. “You don’t have to.”
“They weren’t…kind things, Alia.” I hesitate, throat tightening. “Most of them.”
She flashes me a wide-eyed look. “Given your words last night, I can imagine.” Her shoulders raise as she inhales deeply, and she shakes her head. “I’ve been angry at you too, you know. Which you’ve probably gathered. I think it’s understandable. On both sides.”
“It is.” I nod once and look away. “And you’re right. It’s not easy to let go of.”
Silence stretches between us, thin and fragile like a worn ribbon. Part of me wants to make it snap, see what happens if we unleash everything, fight and accuse each other until we have nothing else to say. But there’s no point in it. The resentment between us doesn’t need somewhere to go.
It just needs to go.
“I’m sorry,” I say, glancing over. Her eyes lock on mine in an instant. “For everything you’ve been through in the last seven years. Even if the reason wasn’t real, the pain was. You didn’t deserve that.”
“Thank you.” Her expression pinches, and she twists her lips to the side. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through too.” Another wave of quiet passes between us. “And I’m very sorry about your brothers. I know you were close with them.”
Unexpected heat stings my eyes. I tip my face away. No one has wanted to talk about them. Including me. Yet somehow, part of me wants to. Aches to. Losing them once is bad enough, but losing them again because no one dares mention them to me is just as gut-wrenching. Acknowledging that they’re gone hurts just as much as pretending they never existed.
“And I’m sorry for…making it all worse.”
That catches me. “What?”
“You went to war while dealing with all of this from me. I can’t imagine that was…that it didn’t affect you. I’m sure it put you in danger.” A shudder goes through her. She lowers her chin until her hair once more slides over her face. “Or even got others injured. Or worse.”
“Nothing like that. Not that I could pinpoint.” I clear my throat as much as I can, but the emotion remains, thick and heavy. “But that’s why I only wrote twice. Why I tried to let you go.”
Her gaze drifts across me and lingers on my hands. Then her gleaming eyes find mine. I brace myself, but no accusation or disgust shines there. Only pain. “You wouldn’t have gone, would you? If it wasn’t for me.”
“It was my choice either way.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t know the answer, Alia.”
