Home. Home was never peaceful. It was a lifetime of tension, my father and mother constantly sniping at each other when they weren’t occupying separate wings of the palace, sending me back and forth between them. If I’m thinking of it now as a peaceful place, I know I’m losing my mind.
I take some small measure of comfort in the knowledge that I knew how precious Aren was when I had her. I didn’t take for granted that she was the best thing that ever happened to me. That she’ll never know the truth about my lies is my greatest regret.
The few minutes under the healing waters between torments are the only solace I have left. The moment I’m dragged out, the torture will start again.
It always does.
The pain I feel now, though, is nothing compared to the pain of seeing the look on Aren’s face when she thought I betrayed her. When I spat out those hateful, calculated lies to Namreth, declaring she meant nothing to me.
And the evil bastard believed me because he didn’t know I had a trick up my sleeve—and because I’m an excellent liar. I’ve practiced and perfected that skill, under my father’s supervision, since I was ten years old.
The tiles above blur and come back into focus, as clear and vivid as the shock on Aren’s face. The rage in her voice. The pain in her eyes. It’s all burned into my memory.
But what haunts me most is the last look she gave me, right after she spit on me. When she glared at me with not just anger, but so much hurt and despair that I almost cracked and recanted my lies.
I did that to her. My betrayal—false as it was—broke her.
The thought feels like a blade lodged deep in my chest, twisting every time I breathe. It hurts more than the fists, more than the bruises, more than anything Namreth could ever do to me. I should never have brought her here. Her pain is my fault. And I don’t know if I can ever forgive myself for it.
…
Tonight, I don’t know how long I’ve been here… A week? A month? A year? Namreth studies me from the side of the healing pool. His expression is as detached as ever, like this is just another monotonous, tiresome task on his list.
“You can make this stop at any time, you know, nephew. Just tell me where the Rings are, and you’ll be free. Where are they?” His voice is as smooth and cold as the stone under his feet. The malice in his voice belies his promise. He has no intention of ever letting me leave alive.
“Somewhere you will never guess,” I say, truthfully enough, blinking the water out of my eyes. My jaw aches as I speak, but I manage to keep my voice steady. My chest, though, is tight, each word a struggle as the weight of my own resolve presses down on me.
Namreth tilts his head, the faintest flicker of annoyance crossing his unblemished face. “Everyone has a breaking point. We shall find yours.”
He nods at the guard, and before the man can shove me beneath the surface again, a laugh, dry and hollow, scrapes at my throat like shards of glass. After what I’ve already done to Aren, little else can hurt me. My laughter is choked off as water fills my lungs, and the sour taste of guilt rises in my throat. I swallow hard, trying to shove the memory of Aren’s anger and despair down, but it lingers, gnawing at me.
Before we left Katharine’s village, the lost princess gave me a vial. An antidote. She said it was to help protect the thing I loved most, explaining that it would counter the effects of the truth-telling serum. There was only one dose, and I had to use it wisely.
I kept it on me, even finding a way to slip it into my boot when Namreth escorted us into the city. I knew he would serve us henbane, just as Katharine did. So, the morning of our audience with him, I slipped the serum into my mouth without Aren’s knowledge.
She thought my words were the truth.
I don’t love her. She’s nothing to me.
Those words haunt me every single day, but it was better that I hurt her than let Namreth hurt her.
She’ll survive my lie. She’ll live because I betrayed her. It’s all I can hold on to for now. At least I saved her from these torments. The more Namreth focuses on me alone, the safer Aren is. She needs to hate me to survive.
Just thinking of her is its own kind of torture—a pain even these healing waters can’t soothe.
Why didn’t I kiss her more? Why didn’t I make use of the little time we had? My chest aches as I think about all the moments I held myself back, believing she wouldn’t have welcomed my interest. How many times did I think about pulling her close, burying my face in her hair, feeling her body against mine, kissing the curve of her neck? How many times did I want to tell her how I truly felt and instead let my fear keep me silent?
She put up with me, my insufferable selfishness, for the people she loves. I’d give anything to see that quiet smile one more time, to hear her call me an idiot just once more.
I even miss the way she rolled her eyes at me.
I’m ripped out of my thoughts by the hands on my chest, yanking me upward out of the water by my ruined shirt. I gasp, coughing violently as the healing water gushes out of my lungs. My ribs ache with every heave, and my vision swims. For one brief, blissful moment, I was dreaming of Aren, and now I’m back here. The cruel reality crashes down on me like a hammer.
The guard standing in the pool with me pulls back and strikes the side of my head with a ham-sized fist, snapping my head back. Pain explodes across my skull and all the way down my spine. My vision goes blurry, white and blinding. I sway in the guard’s grip.
Another blow lands on my nose this time—that’s new. There’s a sickeningcrack, and warm blood gushes over my lips, spilling into my mouth and coating my tongue with its metallic bite. I cough, spitting a crimson spray onto the guard’s pristine uniform. My stomach heaves, but there’s nothing left in me to throw up.
I brace myself for another blow, my muscles tensing in anticipation, but Namreth holds up his hand, staying the guard’s fist. Relief flickers faintly in my chest, only to be extinguished by the next words out of his mouth.
