Callum steps inside, dressed in a tailored black suit, the kind that costs more than anything I've ever owned. His tie is perfect, and he looks sharp. Like he hasn't spent the last few days dealing with whatever it is he's been doing.
I scoot to the edge of the bed, moving on instinct.
"Hi," I say, my voice too eager, too desperate.
He doesn't respond at first, so I fill the silence. "How are you?"
He tilts his head side to side, rolling his shoulders like he's trying to shake something off.
"Long days."
I nod, studying him. His jaw muscles flex and his lips part like he wants to speak but doesn't.
"It must be hard," I say. "Being in your position. Being the leader of a family."
He doesn't say anything.
I bite my lip, then try again. "Do you ever have days where you're nervous or scared?"
"Scared?" he repeats, and he walks further into the room. "Why?"
I shrug, glancing down at my hands. "I watched this show about Alexander the Great. It claimed he was scared before every battle, and he conquered most of the known world before his thirty-third birthday."
Callum tilts his head. "You think that's true?"
I shrug again. "It would make sense. I mean, risking your life in war has to be scary. But in the end, I guess it doesn't really matter. He won."
Callum slips his hands into his pockets, studying me. "You like watching stuff like that?"
"Oh yes," I say, and my voice softens. I look down at the floor, afraid to meet his eyes. "I'd like to think in another life I was studying our past. You know, becoming a professor or something. Teaching people about history. About what we can learn from it."
He nods, still watching me.
The silence stretches, and I feel heat crawl up my neck. I clear my throat.
"What about you?" I ask, forcing myself to look up at him. "If you could be doing anything other than what you've been given, what would you do?"
He rubs his chin, the faintest crease forming between his brows.
"Sorry if that's too personal," I add quickly. "You don't have to answer me."
"I checked the location you drew," he says, changing the subject.
My stomach tightens. "And?"
"It checked out. We found a shrine. Complete with a statue of the Morrígan, some relics, and a lot of blood."
I flinch. Hearing that word, blood, sends a sharp stab through my chest. My throat tightens.
"Oh," I whisper. "They performed a sacrifice."
"I take it that was human blood?" Callum asks, his tone flat.
"Yeah." I swallow hard, forcing the words out. "Now that my dad's plan is in motion, the Morrígan needs blood. When all that started, a lot of people, me included, questioned it. But they fell back in line." I pause. "Me, not so much."
Callum walks over and sits next to me on the bed.
My breath catches.
