“Hmm...” Asterious purred. “So you’re telling me you looted dead bandits while traveling alone in the wilds, found a magic Lightborn relic, and headed for the Shadow Woods with it around your finger, is that correct?”
“That’s not what I said...”
“But it’s what you’ve implied.”
“I…I ran away from home some time back. I found the ring, put it on, hoping to sell it in Havenswood for supplies. But instead, the ring tried to kill me, and it made me feverish and disoriented. I must’ve stumbled into the Shadow Woods in my delirious state.”
Asterious huffed. “So, you’re from Havenswood? Because there’s no other mark of civilization out there in the BleakWilderness apart from the bandit clans themselves. So unless you were part of those—”
“I’m not a bandit. And I’m not a thief. I trade herbs and remedies made from things that most don’t dare to seek out in the wilderness.”
“You still didn’t answer if you’re from Havenswood or not.”
“And you didn’t let me ask the question I’m owed for answering the previous one.”
Asterious clenched his jaw. “Fine. What?”
“How is it that you are both of Blackwynd and Vaerwynd blood?” She didn’t stall on a single syllable.
A long sigh slipped from Asterious’ lips as he dropped his shoulders, bracing for the weight of the explanation. “Before my father openly turned on magic and decreed it a crime, he threw a grand ball in the human court, inviting all the Vaerwynd royals, and many magickind as well, even a High Shadowblood as an attempt at an allyship. The ball was meant to be a celebration to honor the Lightborn for their help in giving him a child—my half-sister, Sinevia.”
“The Vaerwynd Massacre,” Caramyn muttered. “The night the Shadowblood killed the Lightborn king?”
“That’s what history says, yes. But the truth of it is…not quite so. The Shadowblood’s presence was a scape goat. A place to shift the blame for when my father killed the Vaerwynd King.” The prince turned his head, seeing that Caramyn was just as confused as he expected her to be. “The ball was nothing more than a trap. A plot for revenge for his wife’s death in childbirth—the hidden cost of a life for a child. When all the Lightborn royals were gathered in the ballroom, my father subdued them with great iron bells he’d secretly installed throughout the castle, shattering their connection to their magic. He killed them all, but not before he made the Vaerwynd King watch as he took Queen Elysia—the king’s mate—for himself. A queen for aqueen. He promised to keep her alive as his prize for the rest of her days, knowing how greatly this would make the Lightborn king suffer before he died. But he didn’t count on the cursed conception that would come of it.” Asterious drew a heavy breath as he focused on a small crack in the floor, letting it out with one single word. “Me.”
He looked up to see Caramyn’s reaction, to see if it matched the way he sensed her pulse was slowing. Calmer. She was leaning so far forward listening he thought she might fall from the windowsill. He should’ve stopped there. Should’ve let that be the extent of his explanation. But for some reason, her gaze tugged at something inside him and he went on.
“The abomination of the Vaerwynd legacy. And the shame of the Blackwynd King. But still very loved by my mother regardless. And one day when my father grew tired of her pleading with him to recognize me as his heir, he locked her away in a location he kept secret from me. And I’ve been trying to find her ever since I—” Asterious bit his tongue, deciding he had said enough. “I’ve been trying to find her for a long time.”
Something in Caramyn’s gaze had softened. The way she looked at him now felt less like of a threat and more like...like something tender...almost compassion, maybe.
“I don’t want your pity.” Asterious grumbled, pushing off the wall to straighten himself. “I just want you to tell me the truth. Tell me something to give me some semblance of hope that I might not have wasted that journey to only end up no closer to finding her than where I started.”
Caramyn stood up from the window and turned to stare out the glass, still clutching her gown shut. The sun rays broke through the stained-glass outline, casting a mosaic of heavenly light across her face and setting fire to those shimmering amethysts beneath her lashes. “I’m...not from Havenswood.”She blinked and turned to face him. “I have told you everything I can remember.”
Asterious leaned into her, careful not to upset her by moving too quickly as he did before. “You know, you’re a terrible liar. High Lightborn cannot lie. Upon ascending the throne, spells are sealed into their oaths—binding them irrevocably to the truth. I watched my mother survive by working around that vulnerability time and time again. So, I know all about twisting or omitting details to work around the truth. I recognize it when I see it.” Her gaze rained fire upon him. “And I see it. I sense the way your heart races when you try to explain yourself. And all it does is make me more suspicious of you. Makes me wonder what you’re really hiding…or if you even know yourself.” He raised an eyebrow as he propped himself up with one hand against the wall, amused at the way her flustered face twisted into a look of disgust.
“So you admit you’re a master of deception. You do all this and tell me a sad story to get me talking, and then you’ll kill me, right? Once I tell you what you want to know. This room, the food, everything. This is all just a trap, isn’t it?” Her voice rose the longer she spoke.
“It’s merely an interrogation. Not a trap.”
“So, does an interrogation always come before the execution part, or am I just lucky? Does the next question come with a dagger to my throat?”
Something in Asterious sparked. If only she understood how he would absolutely relish what it would feel like to hold a dagger at her throat when she threw out her callous accusations. If only she knew how much it was in her best interest that he couldn’t. But she knew nothing. She’d been sold the lie like everyone else, yet her judgements still stung. And the inexplicable way that it bothered him was salt in the wound.
“I’m hardly the monster you think I am. I took no pleasure in killing for my father. I wasn’t given a choice. But perhaps you can be the first of my own choosing.” Asterious bared his teeth, settling to tip her chin toward him with a finger instead of the dagger he’d like to imagine.
“Don’t touch me.” Caramyn hissed, yanking her face away. “Why are you toying with me? If you’re doing all this behind the King’s back, it’s only a matter of time before he comes looking for you. So even if it’s not your plan to kill me, he certainly will.”
Asterious stepped away with a sly smile and began to pace, folding his hands behind his back. She’d managed to pique his interest in her personal secrets, and perhaps trading secrets was the key. So he decided to throw out one he could spare. One that might even get her talking.
“I wouldn’t be too worried about that.” He glanced back to watch her reaction. “Because King Daemar is dead.”
He could see the way her body tensed even from over his shoulder, just as he expected. “You killed your own father?”
“No, no. I assure you, I did not have the pleasure. No one is quite sure who did, actually. It was a successful assassination and the key to my freedom.” He whipped around, fighting back a grin. “Was it you? Perhaps that’s why you were out running in the wilderness and won’t tell me anything. Now it’s all coming together.”
Caramyn shot him a withering look. “I didn't realize I impressed you that much. You really think I could kill the king and escape?”
