‘His name is Ryker,’ Will sighed as he met Josie’s gaze. ‘We have a complicated history.’
The princess snorted. ‘I’ll say. You’re not going to tell me what that was about, are you?’
‘I wish I could.’ He meant it. He and Josie had always had a cordial relationship. She was kind, and funny, and loyal.
She surveyed him closely now, her lips pursed. ‘I saw the blood last night,’ she said quietly. Will opened his mouth, but she held up a hand. ‘I know you weren’t involved with Helene’s kidnapping. And given you’ve already been beaten up today—’
‘He gotonegood hit in.’
Josie rolled her eyes as she continued ‘—I figured I’d tell you that I know you, and I know you didn’t take that girl.’
Will’s throat bobbed. ‘Thank you,’ he said hoarsely. He knew he should say more. Josie deserved to know what her kindness meant to him. But his throat was tight, and his head felt heavy, and Josie was squeezing his arm as if she saw it all anyway and already understood.
48
The sun had begun its descent by the time Aya and Will left the Maraciana two weeks later, their backs aching from another day spent hunched over books.
Aya had finally fallen into a steady rhythm – the first since she’d left Tala over seven weeks ago. In the early morning she trained with Aidon before he left to continue the search for Helene, his frustration growing each day the City Guard came back empty-handed. And though her curiosity had her wondering if perhaps she should help, she and Will had equally pressing matters. So after her training, they holed up in the Maraciana to research. He was hells-bent on studying Evie, convinced that the saint would hold answers.
‘You’re supposed to be the second of your kind,’ he had mused.
I’m not a saint.
Even if the godshadchosen her … a true saint didn’t need a tonic to survive her power. A true saint wasn’t fueled by darkness. But Aya had swallowed the words, forcing them down in the face of Will’s optimism. ‘I’m nothing like her,’ she’d argued wearily instead.
Will had just blinked at her. ‘Humor me.’
It was fruitless, anyway.
There were plenty of texts on the savior of their realm, but nothing of true use to Aya. Will had been interested to learn Evie claimed Pathos as her patron god before the Visya had ever been restricted to a single affinity, and that it sparked rumors that the saint was a descendent of thegod – a theory that had been dismissed by the High Priestesses centuries ago.
An interesting tidbit, but utterly useless when it came to learning what Aya was secretly searching for: there had to be a way to survive the Decachiré. And if she could find it … she could use whatever was roiling inside of her without the tonic, which only allowed her to delve so deep into her power.
Her nerves grew more frayed with every page that came up short of answers, but Will’s optimism was relentless.
Aya usually worked out her frustration at the end of the day during affinity training with Will in the paddock – just enough to keep the edge off her writhing well.
She still hadn’t told him about the tonic she sipped before those sessions, just as she hadn’t told him what she was desperately looking for within those books. She didn’t want to see the look on his face when he realized she was accepting her fate; sinking deeper into the darkness within her.
Today, the early evening was balmy, the breeze from the sea cooling the air enough that they decided to forgo the carriage from the Maraciana and walk back to the palace instead. They sunk into an easy silence as they strolled through the heart of the city, keeping off the busy path that followed the crescent-moon beach. Will glanced up at the dusk sky, the clouds colored in pinks and oranges and purples.
‘Rinnia does have its own beauty, I suppose,’ he murmured. His hands were in his pockets, his shoulders looser than she’d seen in weeks. He caught her gaze, quirking an eyebrow at her. ‘What?’
‘I’ve never asked why you hate it here so much.’
‘I never said I did.’
‘You think I haven’t noticed? You grit your teeth any harder and you won’t have any left.’
Will smirked. ‘I had no idea you paid so much attention to me, Aya love,’ he drawled. Aya felt her cheeks heat, and she fixed her gaze ahead, refusing to see his smug satisfaction at getting a reaction out of her. Will heaved a sigh before continuing, the teasing gone from his voice entirely. ‘I don’t have fond memories of this place.’
‘With your father, you mean?’ They stepped into a small plaza, and she glanced at him, marking the contemplation in his face.
‘I don’t remember him always being such a monster,’ Will finally said. ‘Greedy, yes. And selfish. But I think something hardened in him after my mother …’ He trailed off, his mouth tightening. ‘Or perhaps I was just unable to see it. Which I suppose makes me just as much of a monster as he is.’
Aya let his confession sink in, the heaviness in his voice settling over her like the humidity that cloaked the air. All those times he’d carelessly thrown that word around, had accused her of thinking he was such … had it been his own fears taking hold?
Aya knew what it was like to be haunted by the past.
