“Don’t lie to me, Khayrivven Falcrest. You’re a Flame-born among people who despise our kind. You never fail to execute an order, and you have been doing all you can to make the world believe you hate me—at least the world inside Ashthorn’s walls. What does he hold over your head?”
With a sigh, Khayrivven sank onto the edge of the bed, not letting go of Lory’s hands but pulling her along so she sat next to him. Her hands, he trapped between his, fingers interlacing with hers as he enclosed them like something precious. “Criulias.”
Holding her breath, Lory waited for him to say more, but he’d closed his eyes as if waiting for something to smite him.
“What about Criulias?” The province south of Sen Dunai had been unhappy with Ulder’s rule, but the upheaval that ended when the Duke of Criulias was exiled from his own province was the worst she’d heard so far.
Khayrivven pursed his lips, his shoulders lifting and falling with a deep, steadying breath. “The unrests didn’t stop with the Duke of Criulias, and they sure as Eroth’s Veil weren’t as small an issue as the people of Sen Dunai were led to believe.” This time, he didn’t give her an opportunity to askquestions but rolled on as if rushing the words out would be the only way he’d ever speak them. “Troops were deployed, not to keep the peace but to massacre whoever dared as much as speak a bad word about Ulder.”
His tone was steady, but around her hands, his fingers were shaking.
Lory had heard about the peacekeeping missions twenty years ago, when the Duke was exiled, but not about any other conflicts. Perhaps because she’d spent her days on the streets rather than in fancy halls where politics were part of daily rapport.
“They are still sending soldiers in to eliminate new threats. Any whisper to undermine the King of Brestolya is smothered before it can take flight.” A shiver ran through Lory’s body as Khayrivven met her gaze, a dark kernel of defiance peeking through the layer of solid gray his irises had become.
Extracting one hand from his grasp, she placed it on his forearm, squeezing lightly. “That’s what you meant when you were speaking about the front lines. They sent you to Criulias.”
He didn’t deny it, but the muscles of his arm flexed under her fingers as if he were fighting to keep himself in place.
“You fought to keep Brestolya safe from rebels who still like to believe the Duke was right to claim autonomy for Criulias? How can Ulder use that against you?”
Strands of black hair swayed on Khayrivven’s head as he bowed it as if in an admission of guilt. “I fought my own people, Lory. I’m Criu. My family was Criu. I was born in Criulias. Only when they … died”—he exhaled a shaky breath—“did I come to Sen Dunai where I was raised and trained to fight the people I should have loved.”
The conflict in his eyes ran so deep it could have uprooted a mountain; so did the shame.
“I failed them. All of them.”
It was that moment when Lory realized she might have just gotten what Khayrivven had wanted her to achieve—she’d unearthed a secret from one of Lu’Shen’s patrons. But judging by the expression on his face, this was something she could never share—with anyone.
“You didn’t fail. You executed orders. You?—”
A flash of disappointment crossed his features. “Don’t excuse faults you know nothing about, Lory. You weren’t there. You don’t know what I did. You don’t know?—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Lory captured his face with one hand so he wouldn’t turn away the moment he’d dared open up, but his gaze dropped to their hands—one of hers still trapped between his.
“I’ve done some pretty horrible things in my life, Lory, and even though I always find reasons to justify them, it doesn’t take away the darkness coming with the crimes I commit. You, better than anyone, should understand that.”
With her past as a criminal, stealing and robbing, and deceiving people. But she’d done it to survive. What was his excuse?
“Then tell me, Khayrivven. Tell me what horrors keep you up at night.” Lory leaned forward, bringing her head level with his, pinning him with a look, not of pity but of determination. “I don’t believe for a second that you wouldwillingly betray your people. I’ve asked you before, and I’m asking you again, but this time, I want the full truth.” Swallowing the fear of what would happen if she pushed him, if he’d withdraw back into the immovable shell of the ruthless captain, Lory asked, “What does he hold over you that makes you so unquestioningly loyal?”
The flash of anguish in Khayrivven’s eyes nearly broke Lory’s heart, but she held his gaze, steady—and not at all ready for the answer forming on his tongue. “Elina.”
Her hand dropped from his face, and for a few, shaky breaths, Lory just stared at him, waiting for an explanation. When none came, she whispered, “Who is Elina?”
Khayrivven slowly shook his head, not in denial of an answer but as if he wasn’t ready to go there just yet. A sigh deep enough to shake the foundations of the world ran through him. “My sister.”
Everything in Lory’s body went cold as the ice Frost so readily had at his disposal.
“Elina survived. He’s been keeping her in the palace for years, and if I fail to obey orders, she suffers.”
There was nothing Lory could think of to say, so she squeezed his forearm once more, her fingers numb with shock.
“I’m not loyal beyond reproach to the King of Brestolya. I am bound to act as if I do, an example for all the gifted failures in this world, that he will find a way to bind to him what he considers valuable, whether they like it or not.” Barely contained anger simmered beneath the velvet of his voice, and when he lifted his gaze to Lory’s once more, the glowing ember of his power peeked through.
“I failed her. I failed my family. And I failed my people.”
How he could be so calm, knowing his sister was being held hostage by the ruler of the continent, was beyond Lory. If this had been Evven, she’d have moved Eroth’s Veil to get him back, but something told her, Khayrivven had already tried everything in his capacity to save Elina.
