“When I was a prisoner of Kakos, they put me in a cell with your mother. The Vaguer thought it would be beneficial for me to not be alone.” Her lips twisted into a grimace as she deepened her voice and said, “A neglected ox yields tough meat and bland taste.”
Will’s fingers stilled where they’d begun to weave with Aya’s. Her eyes darted up to his, wide and blue and nervous.
They’re already dead, he reminded himself. It was a far quicker ending than they deserved, but they were gone. Ruminating would get him nowhere, especially when Aya was looking at him like that.
“They’d questioned Lorna severely,” she continued unsteadily. “And she had…lingering effects.”
Will frowned as he tried to make sense of what Aya was saying. Her teeth dug into her bottom lip as she glanced away from him.
“She had an issue with her shield,” she finally said as she met his gaze once more. “Just like yours.”
It took a moment for Will to make sense of her words, as if so many hours spent reading the Old Language had slowed his understanding of the common tongue.
“She said that it happens when she uses a great deal of her power,” Aya continued. “Her protection against other affinities…wanes.”
Waned, his mind corrected automatically.
Because his mother was…
Will shook his head, his hands pulling from Aya’s slowly as he took a small step back. This didn’t make any sense. He’d never noticed Lorna experiencing any of the same issues he’d lived with since he was a child.
And it wasn’t as if his broken shield was a secret to his parents. She hadbeenhere when Gale had berated him for it. He remembered the blank look on her face, the way she’d merely sat there and let her husband tear him down.
You are weak.
“Will.”
He blinked. Aya was watching him carefully, as if this wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention.
“She…” He cleared his throat. “She never told me.”
Aya’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “I know.”
Why didn’t she tell me?
Will dragged a hand through his hair as he let out a harsh exhale. It did him no favors to ask questions he would never have the answer to. “So, what?” he asked as he paced the small length of the office. “It’s hereditary?”
Aya perched on the end of the small desk, her hands curling around the edge of the worn wood. “That seems the most likely of explanations.”
How many nights had he lain awake, wondering why he was broken in a way that could not be fixed? How many times had he prayed to gods who hadneverlistened and asked them to take this problem from him? How many tears had he shed as a child because he was weak, and he did not know why, but he knew it was his fault that his parents did not love him.
Who would love a son who crumbled beneath the weight of others’ emotions?
And yet his mother had known—she hadknownhe wasn’t alone in this, and she had been content to let him think he was.
Will stopped abruptly.
“It doesn’t matter,” he gritted out. He didn’t know who he was talking to—Aya or himself. But Aya moved from the desk so she could cup his face.
“Yes, it does.”
He bit back the urge to snap a bitter retort. This wasn’t her fault. Yet he couldn’t quite separate the hurt from her. Not while it was still settling in a wound that had never quite healed.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” His hands found her wrists, but he didn’t pull her touch away. Instead he let that hold anchor him.
He wasn’t angry. He was just…confused. Why keep this secret? Why tell him now?
Aya wet her lips. “Because there was something I needed to confirm first.” She must have read the bewilderment on his face, because she continued before he could question her. “I…I think I might know why your shield reacts this way.”
