Arax bows his head. “Of course.”
He strides ahead of us and Solena touches my arm as I follow him.
“Why?” she whispers, her eyes brimming with confusion. “Why lie for me?”
“I thought seeing you unhappy might bring me some joy, but I’ve realized it doesn’t. No matter how much this place tries to change me, I refuse to lose myself here. I know who I am, and that person does not take pleasure in the suffering of others. I understand the laws of the Reapers, but I have no desire to see them enforced.”
Solena bows her head. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
She lifts the hem of her dress and breaks into a run, and I watch her disappear around the corner.
I quicken my steps to catch up with Arax.
“So, did you fight her?” I ask.
“No, I did not,” he replies tersely.
“She doesn’t like me,” I say.
“No, she does not,” Arax agrees.
“Do you like me, Arax?” I ask, tilting my head.
He stops in his tracks, turning slightly to reveal the weary frown that’s becoming all too familiar. “You are not completely unbearable.”
A laugh escapes my lips, and the rare sound eases the tension in my shoulders and his. “Well, that’s high praise coming from you.”
He grumbles. “Hurry along now.”
I don’t take my eyes off Solena as she fumbles around my chamber, her flushed cheeks and trembling hands betraying her nerves. She drops nearly everything she touches and every so often, her gaze flickers toward me, only to dart away before our eyes can meet. Despite my assurances that I have no interest in exposing her relationship with the Reaper, I can see the doubt etched on her face. She’s bracing for the other shoe to drop, waiting for a threat or some personal gain to emerge from the knowledge I’ve gathered.
Perhaps, in another person’s hands, such knowledge would be weaponized. But not in mine. I’ve had decisions made for mebefore, often under the guise of good intentions, and I refuse to impose that on anyone else—even on someone who could be considered my enemy. That is not who I am, or who I want to become.
Solena helps me out of my damp clothes and into something dry.
“That will be all,” I say, but the sound of her restless shuffling lingers.
“Is something wrong?” I ask, knowing clearly there is.
“I need to explain what you saw. It’s a misunderstanding.” Solena clasps her hands, her knuckles tight with anxiety. “Orios was only comforting me. We've known each other since childhood and…”
“I may have spent my life in the woods, Solena, but I’m not naive. Besides, I’ve already told you—your secret is safe with me.”
But I can see the doubt lingering in her eyes. I remind myself who I’m dealing with: Fae. Scheming, meddling, deceitful Fae. Of course, she doesn’t trust me; she’s used to that kind of game.
“But why? Why show me such kindness? There must be something you want,” she presses, her tone tinged with suspicion.
I shrug. “Perhaps one day I will need your help, and you can remember that, in this moment, I chose kindness.”
Solena nods, but I can tell she is still not entirely convinced. If she wants to live with that threat looming over her, so be it. But if it means she doesn’t glare at me as much, then I’ll let her believe what she likes.
I take a seat on the edge of the bed. While she is here and amenable, I might as well have her answer some questions plaguing me.
“The Warrior’s Eye,” I begin, “Do all Mordorin celebrate it?”
“Only Blades,” she replies. “And the warriors of the thrall houses. It’s hosted by a different house each year. This year, it’s House Eyr’Drogul.”
“And what do they… do?” I press.
