He’s silent a while as he moves through the motions of the dance, but he looks like he’s far away from here. There’s definitely more to him. He’s probably got as many secrets as me. I step on his toe, and he winces slightly but doesn’t comment.
I crossed a line. Good. I’m not here to make friends. And even if he didn’t kill my brothers, he’s killed enough people to keep him on my list. He’s just as bad as the rest of them.
“You’re right.” He locks his eyes on mine.
“I am?” I can’t mask my surprise.
“I could survive on the run. I wouldn’t last as long as you think I would, but I could probably live a decent life long enough to enjoy it.” He’s studying me, waiting for my reaction.
I don’t break his gaze. “Then why don’t you? Or do you enjoy killing so much?”
“I don’t enjoy it. Sometimes there’s more to things than you know, Princess,” he says.
“Then tell me.”
“No.”
I roll my eyes. “You want me to overlook your crimes, but I won’t. I know what you do. I know how much blood is on your hands.”
“What about your own hands?” he counters.
I mentally scramble, trying to think of what he might mean. Did Sabina have a dark past? Was she killing people? Did she do things I don’t know about?
“Your union is going to cause more deaths than I ever could.”
“I can’t help that,” I say.
“Then, you understand my predicament.” The music ends and he bows. “Thank you for the dance.”
As he walks away, I remain on the dance floor, staring at him. He’s nothing like I thought he was, but there’s no denying that he’s dangerous. Probably more than I thought.
But if he didn’t kill my brothers, who did? Who raided us that night? Who burned down the Point? My neighborhood is in ashes and my family gone, but Brevan isn’t the culprit. And whoever it is still walks free somewhere. That is wrong. So very, very wrong.
Nineteen
Katherine sitsacross from me in the library, her finger trailing along the text in the book she’s reading. I return my attention to my own research, my eyes blurring from strain. Growing up, we were all taught how to read, but once we learned, there wasn’t a lot of options to continue. I read with the rebellion, and while working at the printer, but not this long without a break.
I close my eyes and press my palms against them to try to alleviate some of the strain. When I open them, Katherine is gone from her spot. She’s back at the shelf, selecting a new book.
When she returns, she sets it in front of her, then slides another across the table to me. I look at the gold printed title.Rituals for Darkfall.
I shove the other book I was reading aside and open the new one. The first chapter is called “Preparing for the ceremony.” I begin to read.
“How much longer?” Brevan asks.
I glance over at the enforcer, who is pacing the length of the library. He’s alternated between pacing and sitting in one of the plush chairs for the last several hours.
“I’m rather enjoying myself,” I say.
He walks over to me and stares down at the book. “Darkfall? Still? Aren’t you tired of that yet?”
“We don’t celebrate the same way in Iskvaland, and I want to be prepared,” I say.
“Fine.” He sits again, stretching his legs out in front of him. He’s abandoned his leather armor today, and when he sits, the sleeve of his dark tunic rises above his wrist. More of his gift mark is now visible. The thick swirling lines wrap around his wrist, ending in points at the base of his hand.
He catches me staring and pulls his sleeve down.
“Why do you cover it?” I ask. “Why does everyone in the Night Legion cover theirs?”
