“Why did you say that?” He sighed softly. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’ve only ever loved one person, Vi—” She braced herself for the name of some lover she really didn’t want to know about, instantly regretting her decision. “—my mother.”
“What?” Her eyes were pulled to him in surprise. But Taavin wasn’t looking at her. He stared off at the same wall she had been, seeing something entirely different in the shadows.
“Why is it so surprising I loved my mother?”
“I expected you to have a lover… I wasn’t thinking of familial love.”
He chuckled at that. “How would I find a lover? I was sequestered… The only person who really has unfettered access to me is Ulvarth.”
“Right…” She didn’t know what else to say. Vi had imagined servants coming in and out, attending him as they had her. Another thing she’d been wrong about. “What happened to your mother?” Vi couldn’t imagine a mother condemning their child to such a life willingly. And given all he’d said on the matter, she fully expected the truth to be grim.
“Ulvarth killed her.”
She wasn’t surprised, not really. After everything Taavin had told her… Her lips pursed into a thin line.
“Ulvarth killed her, to get me.” Taavin still wouldn’t look at her. His expression was blank, matching the hollow tone of his voice. “There is always a Voice, Vi… When one dies, Yargen chooses another child to serve her for their lifetime. I always suffered from my visions—that was what ultimately drew Ulvarth to me.”
“But your mother didn’t want to give you up.” Vi’s mind wandered back to her own mother. Vhalla had made that terrible choice to give Vi up for such an excruciatingly long stretch. But if she hadn’t… If the North had attacked during the rise of the Mad King, her mother and father may not have lived long enough to see Vi into the world.
“No, she said they were wrong. That I was merely a troubled boy, not afflicted by words of the goddess.” Taavin raised a hand, running it down the side of his face over the crescent-shaped scar on his cheek. “The struggle wasn’t much. What could a boy and a young woman do against Ulvarth and the Swords of Light?”
“You tried to defend her.” The scar had an explanation, and a terrible, gut-wrenching one at that.
“I did. They wouldn’t kill me… No… Ulvarth needed me alive. But he didn’t need me unbroken.”
“I’m sorry,” she breathed. It wasn’t nearly enough. Taavin didn’t even address the paltry attempt at consolation.
“She loved me. So she defended me and died for it. If she had agreed to Ulvarth’s demands, she would still be alive. Bad things happen to those I love and who love me. So I swore I’d never love again and put someone at risk.”
Vi closed her eyes, ignoring the dull ache the words inspired. The halfway status of their relationship, the questions, the time spent wondering what they were… He’d never give them anything more than he already had, she realized. She heard it clearly between his words:I can’t let myself love you.
Despite all she’d been though, that realization may have hurt the most.
“We should go to sleep,” Vi murmured and extinguished the flame.
“We should,” he agreed and, within moments, his heavy breathing told her that he had, finally, allowed the world to slip away.
But Vi was still very much grounded in the world. It was a world of men who cut down women to take their children. A world of red lightning.
A world where she had somehow allowed someone into her heart who may not want to be there.
Chapter Six
Taavin had gotten worse.
“You should drink something.” Vi tapped his cheek gently. His head was limp, chin against his chest. “You haven’t drank anything for two days.”
His bloodshot eyes cracked open, blinking slowly in the dim light. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Two nights ago, when she’d returned from the red lightning incident in the wood, she’d thought she was cold from fear—that was why he’d seemed so warm to her. But the fever had been ravaging him then. Now, the infection from his broken bones and festering wounds continued to spread.
“Taavin, please, the fever is taking water from you; even if you don’t feel you’re thirsty, you need to drink.”
“Vi…” His lips barely moved as he spoke.
“I’m here, it’s me.” She held out the wide, flat leaf she’d been cupping in her hand and using as a bowl to ferry water into the cave. “Please, drink.”
“I…”
