He could trust her with this. He had to.
“Your mother…” Aimilia sighed, fingers stilling. “Your father, in hindsight, I can see it clearly, but you were always Queen Clelia’s obvious favorite. How can she do this to you when she loves you?”
Nikias, unable to quite overcome all his habits, could not meet Aimilia’s eyes as her voice from his nightmare echoed in his head. “That’s easy to answer. Because she doesn’t love me.”
Theinamatusscar over his heart burned.
Aimilia’s grip tightened briefly and he let out a hiss before she quickly loosened it and said, “Sorry! I just—What makes you say that?”
Nikias didn’t pull his hand back. He didn’t care if she accidentally hurt him; it was worth it.
“She likes me, but less and less so ever since Faustina’s death. Not doing what she wants me to tends to be the cause.” It was a strange thing to put these thoughts to words, he’d never admitted any of this before. His voice scraped the air, barely above a breath. “If she really loved me, do you think she would be doing this to me?”
Aimilia brushed her thumb over a bruise of the same shape and size. They didn’t hurt as much when Aimilia was touching them.
“What would make it stop?” Aimilia looked up. “What would finally make her happy?”
Agreeing to marry a woman that wasn’t Aimilia.
And the last thing he wanted to hear from the woman he loved was her insistence he should. She would never understand it was her or no one.
He took his other hand and placed it over hers. “That’s not your burden to carry. You should be worrying about yourself and getting through these trials safely, not me and my little bruises.”
Aimilia closed her eyes. “I can’t help it.”
Of course she couldn’t. Always desperate to be needed. Always looking for something to be rescued. Someone she could be the hero for.
It didn’t mean she cared about him.
He lifted her hand from his arm and pulled himself out of her grip, but her eyes flew open as he did so. “Not because I think you need me, Nikias.”
He tilted his head.
“I…” Aimilia took a short breath. “How are you doing after the first trial?”
Nikias pulled his hands back to rest on the arms of his chair. “I’m not a savage who enjoys watching a woman have her throat ripped out by a three-headed dog, if that’s what you’re asking.”
It wasn’t, but Nikias would rather invoke her fury than go down this road.
“Nikias, I wasn’t there, but I’ve heard enough. Don’t act like that scene didn’t strike close to home for you. Just because you’ve got it in your mind you’re ready to marry again doesn’t mean that wouldn’t bring up bad memories.” Aimilia shifted thetray to the side so she could face him. “We can say her name. That whole scene looked like Faustina’s death, didn’t it?”
Nikias did his best most days not to think about Faustina.
She was dead and buried, and he had been in his darkest days when he had let her ghost and his thirst for a blood-soaked vengeance take over. Better not to think of her at all than be reminded how he’d failed her in life and death.
“What do you want me to say, Aimilia?”
She sighed. “I don’t know. Are you… What are you thinking? Or feeling? Are you alright?”
He laughed. She was worrying about if he was alright when she’d been the one covered in her cousin’s blood trying to save her life?
“I…” Nikias shook his head. “I don’t know. All I saw was you covered in blood, and that’s what terrified me, not knowing how much of it was yours.” He caught her gaze. “I wasn’t thinking about Faustina. I was worried about you.”
Aimilia shifted back, the pink tinge returning to her cheeks. “Oh…”
“I’d much rather talk about you anyway.” Nikias leaned forward, turning his hand so he could take hers.
“What about me?”
