“It…it doesn’t—”matter. It was just a weapon Koerlyn used against me. It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have said anything.
But the words never made it out because the door opened, and the man who owned this room—or,allthe rooms—dominated the entrance, leathers and a black tunic wrapped around his solid body.
We both stared at him silently.
He locked onto me. “I was told you were awake.”
The resonant sound of his voice reminded me of the things he’d said before, his murmured reassurances as he’d ended my fight, hiscarella.
Incapable of words, I just nodded.
He stepped inside the room, eyes never leaving mine as he made his way to the bed.
“Well,” Ana patted her thighs, “I’ll leave you to it.” The bed shifted as she stood.
Finally, his attention moved to her. “Thank you for being here.”
With a soft smile, she touched his shoulder. Then she left, closing the door and leaving me wondering if she thought less of me for what I said. If she would stop coming by just to chat.
I didn’t realize I cared until that very moment.
Standing tall beside the bed, Harthon’s focus returned to me. I doubted he’d slept since yesterday, but only because he would be investigating the attackers. There was no droop to his shoulders, no signs of weakness on his hardened face. Per usual.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Alive.”
His brows furrowed. “I need more detail.”
How did I feel?
Exhausted. Confused. In pain. Frustrated by what I said to Ana. Worried for Merelda, who I wished was here to comfort me. Heartache for every life that’d been slayed before me, because of me. Overwhelmed because I had no agency over myself—had been jerked around and forced to deal with the actions and whims of others ever since this all started—
Thoughts and emotions I’d been careful not to closely examine piled on one another, weeks of stress and anxiety suddenly compounding. His demand formore detailhad opened the lid to a deliberately sealed box that now wouldn’t close. As I looked at Harthon, standing above the bed in allhis confident power, I refused to let any of those thoughts and emotions escape.
“How did they get in?” I asked, needing to distract myself from the chaos mounting in my mind.
Well aware I hadn’t answered his question, his dark gaze roamed over my face. “Someone with authority—a lot of it—brought them into the Citadel. We’re still determining who.”
First Jac, and now another betrayer?
This wasn’t good. Harthon knew it. Each event was a slip of his tight control.
“They weren’t sent by Koerlyn. He would’ve wanted to capture me, not kill me,” I deduced. Harthon didn’t correct me. “How did they make it through the kitchen? And what about the guard who was supposed to be on the wall walk?”
He paused, considering something. “They eliminated anyone they needed to.”
Dead.
The kitchen staff were dead. The guard on the wall walk was dead.
That was what he meant.
I shouldn’t have asked, because now all those roiling emotions became a roar, an inescapable mountain of anxiety and distress, punchy and breath-stealing.
More lives lost because ofme.
All at once, that mountain erupted. My throat spasmed, an unstoppable rush of tears flooding my eyes.
