Frost.Twat.I tacked on the words in my head, not bothering to think them very quietly.
He raised his eyebrows, unconcerned with the insult.
“I think that you knew exactly what the risk to spies entering the enemy kingdom was long before you had to see their heads for yourself, just as you know them now,” he said. “So what do you think, Morta Mea? Should we send more spies to contact your mother? Or would you prefer to stew in the uncertainty of whether she lives or dies?”
His warm grip came to my chin, long enough to tilt my head to face him. Draven’s aurora-lit eyes held mine, steady and unflinching, as if he intended to drag the truth out of me one heartbeat at a time.
“Better yet,” he continued, “you can ask yourself later if the spies you sent might have tipped the scales one way or the other in that decision.”
He let out a quiet laugh that was entirely devoid of amusement.
“And this is just one person, just one scenario. There is a new one every day, and most of the time the stakes will be higher than one person you want to protect. It will be the realm itself that lives or dies from your decisions.” He dropped his hand from my chin, backing incrementally away. “Or from your squeamishness. So tell me, Wife, do you want to send in more spies to find your mother?”
My lips parted, but no sound came out.
Was this how he always felt when he made his choices, weighing life and death as implications and collateral damage rather than the loss of an irreplaceable soul?
I might have been upset when I saw the mottled faces, but my very first thought hadn’t been for the poor fae who had died at my uncle’s hands. It had been for what it meant for contacting my mother.
Had Draven heard the thought then, or did he just understand me better than I wanted to admit I understood myself?
Maybe we were all just selfish at the end of the day. Maybe there was no other way to be when you had the oppressive weight of a kingdom on a single set of shoulders.
I blinked and saw the severed heads. My mother’s guarded emerald gaze. The dragon’s vision. Faceless children andhusbands and wives who would never again see the people they loved.
Then I opened my eyes, meeting Draven’s unflinching gaze. And I wasn’t sure which of us I hated more as I gave him a single, bitter dip of my chin.
I couldn’t stop picturing the heads.
Or more accurately, picturing their number growing until the barrel could no longer contain them. Until they rolled through the palace hallways, features frozen in perpetual accusation.
Was Draven right? Had there never really been a choice? Was all of this a necessary part of being a ruler?
And if that was true, what did it say for the choices my uncle had made where his niece was concerned? Were they as cruel as they had felt, or merely practical?
I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat. Draven was right about one thing, at least. I had been comforted at the idea of sending more spies into the Wilds, even knowing we were likely sending them to their deaths. Comforted to know it might still help me to reach my mother, regardless of the cost.
Guilt twisted in my stomach, writhing around my organs and my bones until I could hardly breathe. Maybe I was more like my uncle than I wanted to consider.
Maybe I had all of my parents’ propensity for lies and a heaping dose of my uncle’s ruthlessness to boot.
My sister only sighed when I talked to her about it all over breakfast, in tones low enough to pretend Draven couldn’t hear us.
She held a piece of cheese out to Batty, who sniffed at it suspiciously before nibbling at its edge.
It didn’t escape my notice that neither of them would meet my eyes.
“You think Draven was right, when he said that I’m naïve?” I phrased it like a question, though the answer was obvious.
My skathryn gulped down the rest of the cheese, cheeks full to bursting while she chewed slowly like she was the one trying to avoid my questions.
Wynnie chewed on her lip, picking up her mug.
“I think… that Draven is an icicle-sucking bastard of epic proportions when he says anything at all,” she replied, taking a sip of tea while she met my eyes at last.
“But?” I pushed. It was rare that I had to push her for anything at all, let alone sharing her very strong opinions.
“But…” she paused like she was deliberating what to say.
