Cronan had made it clear that he would destroy it all, for the simple reason that he could—and that it would make him more powerful. Grim didn’t want more power. He hadn’t wanted his own to begin with.
The only hope for his realm was to convince Cronan that his people, at least, were worth saving. And if he couldn’t, he’d have to kill his ancestor.
“You seem distracted,” Cronan said, peering at him as he sipped wine from his goblet. He could have easily pierced his mind with his shadows again, but he didn’t.
His ancestor feared him. Grim could tell. But why, when Cronan had such endless power?
Why had he taken the memories to begin with? It didn’t make any sense.
Unless he believed...that together...he and the Wildling could defeat him.
Grim blinked and saw Cronan awaiting a response. Right. “Apologies,” Grim said, the word scraped out of him. He bowed his head and schooled his features. Cronan couldn’t know he was planning against him. He offered a truth. “It’s been unsettling...having so many of my memories gone. There are gaps I’ve been trying to fill in.”
Cronan leaned back in his chair. “Don’t bother,” he said. “Your memories with the Wildling only made you weak. You’re much better without them.”
Grim nodded, but inside, he wondered if that was true.
Cronan continued to sip his wine, looking deep in thought. “In fact,” he continued, “if there’s anything else you’d like to forget, anything else that’s holding you back...I’d be happy to release you from any burdens.”
Grim’s hand turned into a fist below the table. As if he would ever willingly let his ancestor into his head again. Even if he was better off without his memories with the Wildling, it had been an invasion. The gap was unsettling.
Though...when he thought of moments he might want to be rid of...he immediately thought of Laila, of his shadows slashing through her and her blood spilling onto the floor. He had been haunted by that memory for practically his entire life. What would it be like if it simply...disappeared? Would he be stronger for it?
No. He wouldn’t erase Laila from his mind. That was the only place she still existed.
Besides. He knew how to erase memories too. Perhaps not as well as Cronan—he never did master mind abilities—but he was sufficient enough. And the thought had never crossed his mind before.
Especially when all this pain just made him stronger. It was useful.
But he didn’t say that to Cronan. No, he said, “Thank you. I’ll consider it.”
Like fuck he would.
Cronan hummed, pleased, watching as the attendants began bringing in plate after plate of dinner. There were meats and vegetables and fruits Grim didn’t recognize. He didn’t really care about the food, but he pretended to study them, if only to keep from speaking to his ancestor. Still, Cronan didn’t stop. “And how’s it going with our prisoner? Have you made any progress in trying to sway her to our side?”
Our side. Grim almost laughed at that. But he’d have to continue this charade until he could guarantee the safety of his people.
In truth, Grim hadn’t spent a second of his time with the woman trying to convince her of anything. He was still trying to make sense of her, to understand what he had lost.
He ground his teeth, remembering the feel of her body pressed to his as she held a knife to his throat. He never thought the position would inspire any feeling other than rage.
But he’d hadseveralother feelings. “She’s stubborn,” Grim muttered. Vague but not dishonest.
Cronan raised a brow. “Don’t tell me she’s bested even you.”
“Of course not,” Grim snapped. His blood heated with anger just thinking about her. “She’s emotional, and her love for me makes her vulnerable. She likes to put up a fight, but in the end, she’ll do whatever I say. She’ll be on our side any day now.”
Cronan laughed. And he could still hear the pleased sound of it when the lords filtered into the room andshesat next to him. Hedisagreed with his ancestor—she was the problem, not the solution. She definitely had to die.
But first, Grim still needed more information. She remembered everything he didn’t. Everything Cronan had taken from him. It was why he insisted on escorting her back to her cell after dinner.
It didn’t take her long to start speaking. “What about Wraith?” she asked.
Grim almost stumbled, hearing that name. He frowned at his own incompetence, at how she could so easily get through to him. She was the one he was leading to a cell, though sometimes he felt like he himself had been shackled. “What about him?” he demanded.
“So you remember him,” she said, almost to herself. She sounded relieved.
“Of course, I do,” he growled.
