So long as I didn’t look up, I was still free.
So long as I didn’t meet his eyes, I was still me.
I could survive his cage. And the moment the silver bars widened, I’d escape again.
Someday, I’d return, and then, they would fear my wrath.
12
My little fugitive trudged along, day after day. When she spoke, her words were sharp and acidic, like daggers aimed at a soft underbelly. The rest of the time, she accepted whatever I offered her with a hollow indifference. It was as if upon her capture, she’d died inside. Now, she was nothing more than a shell.
It infuriated me far more than I could stomach admitting. Where was that tempest I’d glimpsed upon her fleeing my first Command? I’d expected her to fight, to rage, to dosomethingother than slip into a catatonic state. She couldn’t even look at me, for the love of the Goddess.
The nothingness she offered now was worse than any fury she could have flung my way.
I flipped a dagger over in my palm as I stared at her, curled up and asleep on my bedroll, using my pack for a pillow. Had Iinsisted she sleep on mine just so her ghostflower scent would cling to it and slip into my nostrils with each step forward?
Absolutely.
Did I try to prod and goad her just so I could hear her low, melodic voice?
Of course.
Was I doing anything to surrender this obsession?
Never.
I couldn’t explain it. Only that every time my skin brushed against hers, something ancient and starving opened its maw.
I wasn’t supposed towantanything.My only purpose was to obey my sister’s commands and to keep her fixed on her crystal-carved throne beside the Koron’s. My father’s final words to me hadn’t been how much he loved me, or how proud he was of me, or even how I deserved to find happiness for myself.
No, his last breaths were barked instructions and an admonishment of all my shortcomings. How I’d never live up to his name, even while carrying the title of Herr and heading House Räviel.
Heat licked my veins at the thought of them. Too many barbed words still stuck to my skin from members of my family. It was hard to rid myself of them at the best of times.
And right now?
I was at my utter worst. Wretched. Wrecked. All by this little fugitive who looked away every time I drew a breath.
She was my greatest sin. I had strayed far, far off the path I was supposed to walk. And I couldn’t seem to stop the unraveling of who I was supposed to be.
Not that I could even bring myself to want it to halt.
I wasn’t obeying my sister. Even if I was following my duty with every step we took toward Sivy, I knew that a reckoning awaited me somewhere along the way.
I’d tried to yank myself back to my duty, to remind myself of my Goddess-given power and its purpose.
To surrender any desire to have something good for myself.
I was a broken, tormented male; I didn’t deserve it.
The hour was late, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to go lie on the hard ground and close my eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to stop watching Sylaira.
Even though I knew I should.
Ilae glided to the ground beside me, ruffling his sharp feathers. He nudged my shoulder with his mighty head like he could sense the cyclone of my thoughts. I gave him a stroke. His presence was the anchor I needed to ground myself during the storm of Sylaira.
The Seer’s desperate dash into the mountains had cost us days, if not more than a week. I doubted Maelsar and Calrien had waited for me long. I had no way of conveying my position to them either.
