It’s only then that I notice the crowd that’s gathered, both human and fae. Some faces twist in disgust, others in fear, many more alight with excitement—goes to show you what work like this does to people. But the only one I care about is Katya, because I just showed her the monster.
Is she going to be afraid of me now? Hate me? It would probably be best if she ran far away, but that’s the last thing I want her to do. I release the sobbing wretch and turn around slowly, gearing myself up for whatever reaction she gives me.
She’s still seated on the ground, wide eyes staring up at me—in awe or shock, I can’t fucking tell. “Katya—” I begin, but what do I say? Oops, got a little carried away?
Using the wall for support, she pushes to her feet, and I start forward, meaning to help her but think better of it and wait to see what she does. She stumbles toward me, eyes locked with mine. I reach out to her, a silent offer of help, but she ignores my hands, taking those last few steps separating us on her own, then throws her arms around my neck.
She presses her cheek against my chest and with a voice so soft I can hardly hear it, she says, “Thankyou.”
I slip my hands around her and pull her tighter against me. Her body is warm and soft and fits perfectly against mine. I bury my face in her soft hair, marveling at how, even after all of this, it still smells faintly of strawberries.
29
There’s a strange sort of frenetic energy to this place—like dynamite seeking a spark. On the surface, most of these people seem placid, broken even, but I can sense that thread of fury buried beneath their blank gazes. Aemon was right. The majority of slaves here are human, though I catch a pointed ear here and there amongst the thralls.
Aemon and I are sitting, backs against the cavern wall, people watching. Well, I’m people watching. Aemon appears to be guard watching. They are shockingly complacent about their duties. There’s a single male guarding the little outhouse bathrooms—literally the only spot I’ve found with any sort of privacy—and a couple more by the entrance Aemon and I were brought through earlier, though they appear more interested watching the women washing in the river than the gate. The rest of the soldiers congregate around a central fire, carousing and drinking themselves into a stupor, while their charges watch on with murder in their eyes.
“When did this all start?” I ask Aemon.
He drags his gaze away from the drunk guards, his brows drawn so close together, they’ve practically merged. “When did what start?”
I give him a flat look and wave toward the scene in front of us.
“Oh.” He smiles, somewhat chagrined. “You know about the Three Nation War, don’t you?”
I can already feel my face reddening. “Yes, but all the books I read made it out like the humans fled over the mountains to avoid the fighting, but that obviously isn’t right so…” I turn my attention to playing with a pebble on the ground, too embarrassed by my own ignorance to meet his eyes.
He sinks a little farther down the wall and throws an arm up on his knee as though preparing for an extended discussion. “That’s because you were reading the fae accounts of what happened. To them, the truth is less important than appearances. The fae want history to remember them as the saviors who brought new medicines, education and culture to the barbaric humans when they settled in Solstyr, but what they really brought was disease and something human guns simply couldn’t fight: magic.” He rolls his head back, eyes on the ceiling. “I remember when I first arrived at the palace, the king and queen were surprised when the tutor they assigned to me told them I could already read. It was their own bullshit propaganda that made humans out as ignorant and uneducated, and yet they chose to believe it. I guess it’s easier to eradicate an entire species if you think they’re inferior to you.”
How sheltered must I have been to not know any of this? “How old were you when they took you to the palace?”
“I’m honestly not sure.” He scrubs at the back of his neck. “Seven, maybe eight? A lot of it’s fuzzy. I just remember, one minute I’m racing frogs with my sister and the next…” He swallows and takes a breath, his gaze going distant as though he were truly looking back into his own memories. “Everything was on fire. We were all rounded up like sheep. They killed the shifters like my mother outright. I guess they saw them as the biggest threat.”
“But not you?”
He shakes his head and gives me a strained smile. “They wouldn’t kill me. I was the reason they were there.”
I realize my mouth is hanging open like an idiot and snap it shut. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s the truth. At some point, news of a shifter child that could mimic human and fae forms reached the palace. If I’d been an adult, they probably would have killed me, but as a child…” He shrugs. “I guess they thought they could manipulate me into something they could use.”
“So, you were forced to live with the people who killed your family?”
“Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck. “It was so confusing, you know? I watched their soldiers gun down my father when he tried to stop them from taking me away. I hated them, but then they took me to the palace and everyone there was kind and comforted me.” He chuckles, but it isn’t at all funny. “It’s no wonder I’m such a mess, huh?” He shakes his head as if to dispel the memory. “Anyway, back to your actual question. The ones who didn’t get away or got killed were given to the Ümbrians. It was a win-win for the crown. They got the pesky humans out of their hair and wouldnow get the sythra at a lower cost because they provided the cheap labor.”
“You must have wanted to kill them.”
He turns to me then, his features flat, exterior cool. But I don’t miss the way the corners of his eyes squint ever so slightly or the almost imperceptible tic of his jaw. His mask doesn’t fool me anymore. “Every single day.”
I nod. I probably would have wanted to kill them too. “Kind of makes my issues at Duje seem silly.”
“There isn’t a prize for the person with the most trauma, Katya.” He pauses, head cocked in thought. “Unless insanity qualifies.”
I sputter a laugh, and Aemon gives me a little smirk. “Well, that’s something, I guess.”
His expression turns serious. “Tell me about Duje. Your mom lives there?”
I nod. “And my brother Max. Max is half Leodin, but I try not to hold that against him.” I chuckle, but it’s awkward at best.
