Altair looks up and sees my reflection in the mirror. He freezes, and I see the sheer pain on his face, the raw agony that lives behind his eyes every moment of every day.
Our gazes lock, and as he holds my stare, he raises the whip high and brings it down on his back again.
I jump at the crack, unable to process what I’m witnessing. He raises the whip a third time, and I move without thinking, rushing forward and catching it in my hand before it can fall.The leather bites into my palm, and pain shoots up my arm, but I hold on tight.
Altair pulls at the whip, trying to get it free. I resist him with all my strength. I throw myself at him, and we tumble to the floor together. I hear him grunt in pain as we land.
The whip falls from both our hands, and I scramble to sit up, pulling him into my arms. His skin is hot and sleek with blood and sweat. He’s trembling violently against me. I hold him as tightly as I can.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He sobs against my chest. “I don’t deserve to live. You are too good for me. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I don’t deserve you. You shouldn’t be here. You should go. You should leave and live your life free of this shame and guilt, and this pain that consumes me. I am lost but you can still escape.”
“Shh, it’s okay,” I whisper, holding him tighter. “It’s all right, I’m here. Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that you don’t deserve to live. It’s simply not true.”
He keeps crying, his whole body shaking.
“I am sorry, Tressa, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”
I hold him as he breaks down and don’t let go. I rock him and stroke his hair.
“It’s all right. I’m here. You’re not alone anymore.”
The candles flicker around us, and Brandon’s painted face watches from the wall. I hold Altair while he cries out fourteen years of grief, guilt, and self-hatred.
Chapter Fourteen
Altair
I cling to Tressa, even though every instinct screams at me to push her away and stop soiling her with my blood and tears. But if she lets go of me, I will disappear. I will lie here and wait for my death.
I push my head against her breasts and rub my wet face against the column of her neck. I can’t control the sobs. They keep tearing out of me.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp against her skin. “I’m so sorry, Tressa. I’ve punished myself all this time for Brandon’s death. Every single day since it happened. Every night, I’ve hurt myself because I deserve it. I deserve all of it.”
“It’s all right,” she whispers, her fingers threading through my hair. “I understand.”
“No...” The words pour out of me now, a flood I can’t stop. “Brandon was my best friend. I loved him more than anyone in this world. More than my mother, more than myself. When he died, part of me died too, and I’ve never been the same since. I don’t deserve to be whole when he’s gone.”
She caresses my hair and pushes it out of my eyes so she can look at me.
“When I saw you at the bride market,” I continue, “I had to buy you. I needed to punish myself further by having you here and having you hate me. Every time I upset you, every cruel thing I said and did, it was so you would retaliate. I needed you to hurt me, Tressa. I needed it so badly.”
“It’s all right,” she says again, wiping tears from my cheeks with her thumbs.
I shift onto my knees and look up at her.
“Please,” I beg, gripping her arms. “Please hurt me. You deserve to have your revenge on me. I killed your brother. Idestroyed your family. Please, Tressa, I’m begging you. Make me pay for what I did.”
She cups my face between her hands, and I see tears running down her cheeks. She’s crying. For me. The sight tears me apart worse than the whip ever could.
“Altair, you were only a child,” she says. “You didn’t kill Brandon. I remember what happened. I know you were just learning how to shift and fly properly for long stretches of time. You took Brandon to the balcony in the west wing that day and asked him to hop on your back. It was children’s games. You didn’t mean to hurt him.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head. “No, I didn’t mean to hurt him. I would’ve never hurt my best friend. I just wanted to show him the sky. I didn’t expect things to go so badly.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says as she strokes my cheekbones. “I’m sorry I didn’t see this earlier, Altair. I’m so sorry. After we left the palace, my mother told me what really happened. She told me that Lord Varrick saw you. He saw Brandon, a human boy, on top of his son’s back, and he was enraged.”
The memory of that day is brutal. My father rushed toward us, his face twisted with fury and disgust. He grabbed Brandon by the scruff of his neck. My friend’s startled cry shreds through my mind even now.
I was in my wyvern form, massive and clumsy. Out of fear, I shifted back to my human shape just in time to see my father throw Brandon away. I saw him fall. I remember the sickening moment when I realized my father hadn’t seen the railing or noticed he’d thrown Brandon over it. His small body hit the cobblestones below.
