“I…I have no idea what you feel,” she answered.
“I do,” I answered her, and she looked surprised by the soft confession. “I’ll remember Saran’s face and words tonight forever.”
Her lips parted, and it was a sentiment I knew she shared.
“There is more than enough guilt to go around. And you know what I’ve realized when I have more than a lifetime of it? It accomplishes nothing,” I continued. “Because in the morning, Grymia will want the truth. Grymia will want justice. And the guiltIfeel serves neither.”
Amaia was quiet for a long time as the light of candle flames flickered across the walls. We were both lost in our own thoughts, and I debated what would come next, especially when it pertained to the female across from me.
“What will happen to Ryak?” came her soft question.
I regarded her closely. “If we were in Dakkar, what would happen to him?”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “He’s adarukkar. A guardsman. A high-ranking one, from my understanding. The same laws don’t apply to him. Everyone knows that.”
“If he weren’t a guardsman?” I prodded, curious.
“Kor anir ji vorak,” she said quietly, the Dakkari words flowing like wine from her lips. I straightened when she flicked her gaze to me. “It meansthe way of the horde. In Dakkari hordes, if one murders, then they pay in their blood. All of it. He would be executed by aVorakkar, a horde king. In front of the family whose son or daughter or husband or wife he took. But in Dothik…he would be sent to the dungeons, perhaps. It depends whose life he took, I suppose.”
“I prefer the way of your hordes,” I told her. “A life for a life.”
“What would they do in Harta?” came her hesitant question.
My gaze snapped to hers. I tilted my head back. “The Hartans value strength. The murderer would be cast into the wilderness. Anyone who wished revenge or justice could do whatever they wished to him if they hunted him down. But if he survived them all, then he would live and could return home.”
Her brows furrowed down into a troubled expression.
“If I have my way, Ryak will be executed,” I said simply.
She gasped, her head snapping up.
“We aren’t in Dothik. He is nodarukkar, no guardsman, here. He is an acolyte in training. And he is not above our laws,” I said.
“And if that threatens the Heartstone Accords?” she asked. “TheDothikkarwon’t take kindly to it. He’ll twist the truth. He already…”
“He already what?” I prompted, gaze pinned on her.
She took in a small breath. “He already looks for cracks. He thinks the Karag are too powerful with your Elthika. You know this. It’s no secret.”
My lips pressed. “If Elysom intervenes, then I will take their concerns into consideration. But they know it is ultimately my decision. Not much will sway me from it. I have my people to answer to. It is them I listen to, them I serve. No one else.”
“Then I don’t envy you,” she said quietly.
Very few would,I thought.
But this was the life that I’d chosen. The life that had chosen me, the moment my magic had bonded with Samryn’s during theilla’rosh.
I wasn’t one to believe in fate. But circumstance had forged me into what I was now.
“What will happen tous?” she asked next, after another long silence. “For me? For Brune? For…Nevin?”
Thatwas a more difficult decision to make.
“It changes nothing for you,” I finally replied. “For your place here.”
We both knew I was lying, however. I would likelyhaveto reveal the extent of her ability—when I had wanted to keep it secret—for Grymia to accept her. But I’d have to do it in a particular way.
“And Brune?” she asked.
