He rolls his eyes. “He thought I could attract an audience if I were to participate in one of their bridal competitions.”
I think back to the first day I saw Dorian’s portrait on the sign outside the church. Father Viktor wasn’t wrong. Dorian’s handsome visage drew crowds of admirers.
He continues. “I agreed to everything without a second thought. The church would help me secure a fae bride to solidify my citizenship in exchange for me being the public face of their congregation for a week. They would take my sisters out of the workhouse they’ve been in since my mother died so long as I agreed to select a proper bride as determined by Father Viktor. To protect my sisters further, they would draft and file my will. Should anything happen to me—should the fae disregard my terms of sanctuary and come after me—my inheritance would go to my sisters. In exchange, I must join the brotherhood. Not just as an initiate or an acolyte. I must be a brother, take an Order, and represent Saint Lazaro for the rest of my days.” His voice sounds strained, heavy with remorse.
I shrink at the thought that he could be disappointed that the church isn’t what he thought it was. That he would be more enthusiastic about joining their ranks if they were the violent enemies of the fae he expected them to be. But, no, I know better now. Still…I remember what he said at dinner that first night. “Why did you defend their rebellion?”
He sighs. “Part of me believed what I was saying. Sometimes, when I hear how many people were displaced after the last war, I think the humans were right to rebel. The humans weren’t consulted. We weren’t given a chance to leave. We were told that the fae were saving us from annihilation and owed them our allegiance thereafter.”
“The fae ruled the isle long before humans first set foot here.”
He gives a resigned nod. “I know. Maybe the fae were right. Maybe we did owe them our lives after they saved us from certain death. But it doesn’t change what happened after. Unification may have opened fae lands to humans, but it also disrupted some people’s homes. Their careers. The climate changed to suit every court. The terrain shifted. Humans in government no longer had a role to play. Have you any idea how extreme such changes were to some people?”
I furrow my brow. Dorian can’t be older than twenty, which means he wasn’t born until a couple of years after unification. Regardless, I’ve heard it took many years for the isle to adapt to all the transitions. Some courts are still adapting now. Meanwhile, I spent most of my life cozy in my lagoon, witnessing none of these hardships. “You speak as if you experienced these things firsthand. Did you?”
“Not exactly,” he says. “My mother’s family did, though. Her father was the mayor of one of the towns in the Wind Court. After the war, he was nothing. My grandparents went from aristocrats to paupers overnight. That left my mother with only her husband to rely on.” His tone turns bitter.
As determined as I am to never admit the church’s rebellion was anything close to being justified, his perspective is one I’ve never heard. One I don’t think many humans are brave enough to confess. Especially not to a royal like me.
“At the end of the day, I don’t agree with Saint Lazaro’s rebellion,” he says. “While part of me wanted to defend it that night, I also said it because I thought it’s what Father Viktor wanted me to say. I thought it would impress him and prove my heart is with the brotherhood.” He shakes his head. “He was not at all impressed if you couldn’t tell. And I’m glad he wasn’t. I’m relieved Saint Lazaro isn’t a cult of zealots. Just as much as I’m relieved to find not all fae are monsters and tricksters.” He looks over at me with a small, sad smile.
I try to return it but can barely manage more than a subtle flick of my lips through all the guilt that weighs me down. Fae in general aren’t monsters. But I am. I was sent here to kill him and I agreed to it.
Dorian doesn’t seem to notice the shame in my eyes. “Despite all that, if there had been another way to care for my sisters, one that didn’t require me to join the brotherhood, I would have preferred that.”
“So you could continue your dream of becoming a boxer?”
He lets out a low laugh. “No, that dream has set sail, but I would like to do…something. I just don’t know what that would be. There’s no use wondering now unless I can get Father Viktor to relent. My future is promised to him, to follow his guidance, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to protect my sisters and give them the lives they deserve. But it doesn’t stop me from wondering who I could be if it were up to me to decide what I want. What I stand for.” His expression holds so much yearning, so many hopeless questions. It reflects the way I’ve felt while running from Nimue and my dark magic. How many times have I daydreamed about what it would be like if I wasn’t hiding from the Sea Witch? If I could kiss a lover without ending their lives? Dorian may have willingly accepted his situation while mine was agreed upon before birth. Even so…it’s the same. We both feel trapped. Suppressed.
Killing him was supposed to change that for me.
But now…
Now what?
I try to burn the question from my mind, but it plagues me, pierces my heart.
A squeeze against my palm reminds me Dorian is still holding my hand. I glance at him and find his eyes on me, probing. I feel as if he’s looking far deeper than I want him to.
“Two killers,” he says under his breath. “What does that make us?”
I shake my head, unsure what he’s asking.
He leans in closer until our foreheads are almost touching. “Are we kindred spirits who understand one another? Two souls cut from the same cloth? Or are we two volatile components that should never be combined?”
His question takes my breath away, as does the shift in his gaze. From confusion…to something like desire. Now more than ever I fear he might press his lips to mine. It’s a thing I’m now certain I can’t do, regardless of what it means for my fate. I take a step back and begin to tremble from head to toe. “Dorian, there’s something else—”
“Brother Dorian.” The voice comes from the other end of the garden. Footsteps pound on the walkway and I hear Dorian’s name called again. We peer through the willow branches, once again finding Brother Billius. This time, he isn’t creeping quietly around. He looks frantic.
“Seven hells,” he mutters. “They know I’m not in my room. Stay hidden. I’ll pretend I was out for a breath of air and draw him away so you can get back to your room.” He turns back to face me, but before his eyes can meet mine, he turns violet, frozen. Beneath the purple haze of the Twelfth Court, I slip my hand from his and disappear through the nearest wall.
34
The next morning, I learn what all the fuss had been about, courtesy of Podaxis. According to the intel he gathered while spying, the church collected Dorian’s sisters from the workhouse as promised, and they arrived in the middle of the night. The girls refused to be settled in the women’s wing until they saw their brother. I already figured as much, for I watched him embrace the two girls from my window, saw as they cried happy tears upon seeing him. I didn’t let myself witness more. Partially because I was recovering from my escape through the Twelfth Court. But also because I couldn’t bear to watch. Couldn’t handle seeing the very thing I almost ruined.
Everything Dorian is doing, he’s doing it forthem. His sisters. Had I succeeded at my mission that would all be over. I suppose it’s some consolation that the church has supposedly filed a will that bequeaths his inheritance to the two girls, but that doesn’t change the fact that I nearly took him away from them. Not only that, but…justhim. His life. His breath. His beating heart. How did I ever consider ending that?
And now…
