“Actually, I knowexactlyhow it feels to lose an older sibling—like a limb has been severed from your body. Like the scaffolding that holds up the sky has crumbled. You don’t know who you are or where to go without them, and you’re terrified you’ll never be able to fill their shoes. You don’t evenwantto fill their shoes. But, most of all, you’re terrified it was all your fault. That everyone secretly wishes you had been the one to perish. Sometimes you secretly wish it yourself.…”
The words rush out of me faster than I intended—and far more vulnerable. I brace for Alaric to mock me, but he simply blinks with large glassy eyes, which make him look younger, softer, and, aggravatingly, even more attractive.
“Except Besnik’s deathwasmy fault,” he eventually whispers.
I scoot a tiny bit closer, pleased when he doesn’t shrink away. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. If what we saw is true, your father is to blame, no one else.”
“My father wouldn’t have lashed out if not formymistakes.”
“You’re not responsible for his temper. No mistake, no matter howgrave, justifies murder. He was the adult—the king, for seed’s sake. He should have been able to control his power and emotions.”
I expect my little speech to bolster Alaric, but his expression darkens, and he purposely leans away, reestablishing the distance between us. “Why are you trying to comfort me? What are you really after?”
The gemstone triad and your power, I think.
But I say, “Honestly, I don’t know anymore. Nothing about Vanzador is what I expected—including you,” I add, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.
Alaric searches my face through the dark, and I’m struck by how the moonlight paints the contours of his cheeks silver. How starlight gilds the blackness of his hair. It shouldn’t be possible for someone so outwardly intimidating to be so small and shattered within. The disparity is unsettling. That’s why my stomach dips. Not because I like the way he’s looking at me. Or because my opinion of him has changed because of our shared trauma.
“How does it work?” I nod down at his coat, where he hid the mysterious object. “Delphine told me memories can be siphoned into objects, but how do you bring them to life?”
Alaric tosses his head back, and his acidic laughter echoes around the mountaintop. “You honestly expect me to open up and share my secrets after you ran out of our solarium when I expressed interest in your magic?”
“I’m sorry. You caught me off guard,” I try to explain. “I wasn’t ready to share then.”
Alaric stands and folds his arms over his chest. “Well, I’m not ready now.”
A flare of irritation burns through me. I’ve been bending over backward to appease him, yet he’s still acting like a petulant child.
I could do the same. I could pester and pressure him or threaten to tell Soren about Alaric’s siphoned memory if he refuses cooperate. But neitherof these plans will earn his trust or get me closer to the gemstone triad, so even though I’m screaming on the inside, I bow my head and step back.
“Very well. I’m sorry we disturbed you. Let’s go, Delphine.” I take her hand and pull her forward.
We only make it a few steps before Alaric calls after us. “Where are you going? The Fortress is back that way.”
“We came all this way. It would be a waste not to scour the mountaintop for clues about Rowenna. But don’t worry. We won’t disturb you again.” I smile sweetly and bob a curtsy, which makes Alaric splutter.
Delphine’s gaze bounces back and forth, torn between duty to her prince and her desperation to find a cure for Cloudia.
Alaric starts after us with an exhausted sigh. “I’m serious. You can’t go that way. It isn’t safe.”
“Because we’re physically in danger, or because we might find something that incriminatesyou?” I can’t stop myself from needling him, just a bit.
“Stop, Indira. We’re near the cliff’s edge, and the ground up here is unstable from overmining. It could give way any second.”
“Wouldn’t it be convenient if I fell?” I ask, taking another deliberate step.
“Stop!” Alaric lunges forward with shocking speed and drags me back several paces. “I refuse to let anyone fall on my watch. Evenyou.”
The emphasis he puts on the wordyoudrips with disdain, but the expression on his face is terrified, his breath ragged as he holds me against his chest.
Delphine loudly clears her throat. “We should be getting back, Miss Indira.”
Alaric lets go, and we fly apart. But even when I’m several paces away, I still feel the press of his arms around me. Still feel the dangerous buzz of electricity zapping through the air.
I rack my brain for something snappy to say, to prove his heroics didn’t affect me. Or something contrite, to remind him I can be kindand trustworthy. But my brain can’t seem to form a coherent thought. Even if it could, my teeth are clenched too tight to speak. So I settle for an awkward half bow, before Delphine tugs me sharply back toward the caves.
“You shouldn’t goad him like that,” she scolds once we’re out of earshot. “What were you thinking?”
