My boots struck the marble with purpose, each step carrying me closer to answers I should have demanded weeks ago. Before the manipulation. Before the management. Before I’d let myself be lulled into thinking protection and control were the same thing.
30
Ididn’t knock. Just slammed the doors open hard enough that they cracked against the walls with a satisfying bang that echoed through the chamber.
Varyth stood near the window, bathed in late afternoon light that made his silver hair glow like starlight. He turned at my entrance, and his expression was maddeningly, infuriatingly calm.
“You fuckingbastard.” The words exploded out of me before the doors had even finished reverberating. “You manipulative, controlling, arrogant asshole.”
“I assume you spoke with Cindrissian.” His voice was level. Like we were discussing a simple misunderstanding instead of the fact that he’d been orchestrating my entire existence like I was some kind of experiment.
“You’ve beenmanagingme.” I stalked toward him, black fire already crawling up my arms. “Keeping me calm. Avoiding stress. Making sure I never got emotional enough to manifest whatever the fuck you think I am.”
“Yes.”
The casual admission snapped inside my chest. “Yes? That’s all you have to say?Yes?”
Varyth tracked my approach with that same infuriating composure. “Would you have preferred I lie?”
“I would have preferred youtell me the fucking truth from the beginning!”
“And then what?” He tilted his head slightly, and gods, I wanted to set that pretty face on fire. “You would have stayed? Trusted me? Let me help you understand what you’re capable of?”
The question hung between us.
“Or,” he continued, soft and lethal. “Would you have done exactly what you always do when things get complicated? Run. Take your children and disappear into the wilderness, convinced you could handle it alone.”
“Don’t youdare?—”
“It’s the truth, Isara.” He stepped closer, and I hated that he didn’t look afraid. Hated that he looked at me like I was something to be understood instead of to fear. “If I had told you everything that first night—about the gift, about what your power might become, about why Ashterion wants you—would you have stayed?”
I opened my mouth to snarl that of course I would have, that I wasn’t some terrified child who needed to be coddled and protected.
But the words died in my throat. Because he was right. I would have run.
“I don’t need to be fuckingmanaged,” I spat instead, shoving past the uncomfortable truth. “I’m not a child. I’m not some delicate thing that needs to be handled with care.”
“No.” His tone turned hard. “You’re someone with untapped power that could level this castle if it manifests wrong. You’resomeone every court wants to either control or eliminate. You’re someone who?—”
“Fuck you.” I shoved him. Not hard—barely more than a push, really—but enough to break through that infuriating calm.
He grunted.
Clutched his side like I’d actually hurt him.
I froze. The rage drained out of me so fast it left me dizzy.
“Are you injured?”
“It’s nothing,” he said, already straightening.
“Bullshit.” I moved closer before conscious thought caught up, my hands already reaching for him. “What happened? When?”
It clicked into place with sickening clarity.
Darian and Fenric. Their wary looks. The way they’d tried to stop me, tried to warn me that hewasbusy.
“You’re injured.” No longer a question.
