Her scowl softens into something softer, sadder. “And no one stayed.”
“Divisions are hard to conquer. They take time to overcome.”
She slowly nods, accepting my words with a sadness in her gaze I want to eradicate.
“What about us?” she murmurs, soft and unsure, but her eyes never leave mine. “Immarus and idimmus. The Light Realm was destroyed by creatures of the Dark. We were enemies once, weren’t we?”
I lean in, bracing my arms on the railing until our faces are inches apart, close enough to feel her breath stutter.
“The last thing I will ever be is your enemy,” I vow.
She just stares, her pupils larger. Then she glances away, back to the lake with the smallest shake of her head.
“To think I was told to fear enforcers, the Council, this district.” Her voice is barely a whisper. “And now…”
She trails off, remembering her past. What she was told to believe.
“I trusted them,” she says, a soft sheen in her eyes. “Implicitly. I never doubted anything they told me, but they lied.”
“They must have had their reasons.”
Her head snaps to me, eyes wide, mouth parted.
“People don’t spread fear and hatred without cause. There’s always a reason. A past experience. Trauma.”
Her brows softly furrow. “Why are you being so… fair?”
I stare out at the lake, at the vast body of water that once held no interest to me. “I’m trying to see things from another perspective. I’ve been told I can be… stubborn.”
From my peripheral, I see her lean forwards on the railing too, a slight smirk curling her lips at my comment.
I listen to the steady rhythm of her breaths, feel her heat, try to pretend I’m admiring the view when really, I’m looking at her.
I’m always looking at her.
She lets out a soft exhale. “When I woke up inside The Inferno, with no memories of who I was, they promised they’d help me. Said they’d look for answers. And I believed them,” she scoffs, a bitter edge creeping into her tone. “I was so naive, so gullible, stupid—”
“You were alone and vulnerable, they were the first safe thing you found.” I have to interrupt, because I hate the way she diminishes herself.
She stares at the side of my face, possibly at the muscle I feel pulsing in my jaw. Whatever she sees, it stops her self-deprecation.
“I don’t think they ever looked,” she quietly adds. “I don’t think they ever really tried.”
“Ask them,” I say, and we both turn to face each other, her burning eyes searching mine. “In five days, when the barrier is taken down...” I nod towards the still waters, where the faint shimmer of the translucent dome catches the last light. “Ask them.”
“And what if they just lie?”
“They won’t.” My tone is firm, gaze locked.
“They’ve lied for five years, Kane. Only when you guys showed up did they start telling me some truths. And if you hadn’t, I probably would’ve spent the rest of my life there, living with those lies.” She swallows, seeming to look past me. “Or the Green Cloaks would’ve taken me and—”
My darkness moves before she finishes. The thought of losing her, even hypothetically, it’s too much. Dark slivers reach for her cheek, coaxing her to me, bringing her under my control just enough to take her from that memory, and to remind her she’s mine now.
That I always protect what’s mine.
“We did come. We did find you,” I murmur, my fingers replacing my shadows against her skin. Her cheek pushes intomy touch, her warmth seeping into my cold. “When they come, ask them anything you want, and they will tell you the truth.”
“But how do you know that?” Her eyes narrow, voice a little breathless as she tries fighting the calm I know my touch brings.
