“Where is Cassius?”
Camilla’s gaze sharpened, something Thalia hadn’t been expecting. “His room.”
“Where is it?”
“Why? What do you want with him?”
Thalia felt her annoyance rise, but she shut it down. Let it drown alongside her growing guilt. “I want to talk to him.”
Camilla’s brows narrowed, her golden eyes scanning Thalia. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
Thalia bit the inside of her cheek, forcing her anger away. “I know. I can assume that you blame me for what happened with Sybil, and you have every right to. I let her out. Practically handed myself to her on a silver platter. I don’t … I don’t know what your relationship was like with her.” Camilla looked away, eyes flashing with something that Thalia couldn’t place. “But I can assume, given your roles on the prince’s council, that you were close. But I—I also know that Cassius blames himself for this. And he shouldn’t. I need to tell him that.”
Camilla finally looked at her. While her gaze remained guarded, she eventually relented. “He’s at the end of the hall.”
Thalia nodded her thanks, hurrying to where the shifter had directed her. She knocked on his door. “Cassius?”
No answer.
Thalia swallowed, glancing back, but Camilla had disappeared. She knocked again, then eased inside.
Cassius’s room was much the same as hers, open to the elements, but instead of facing the waterfall, it looked out onto part of the mountain, a few snowcapped trees dotting the landscape in the distance.
“Cassius?”
He sat in a chair, his back to her, staring out into the night. He didn’t say anything, and Thalia shuffled a bit more into the room, noting the table next to his chair held a decanter of dark liquid and a half-drunk glass.
“Cass?” She moved to his side.
Only when she had moved to the edges of his peripheral vision did he finally look up. His eyes were bleak—dull—the blue so lifeless they were two pools of broken glass.
“This isn’t your fault,” Thalia got out, sinking to her knees.
He huffed out a dark laugh, grabbing his half-finished drink. He downed it in one go. “I wish that were true.”
Thalia swallowed, unsure what to say. His face was a veritable granite mask, one she didn’t know how to crack.
She gently grabbed the empty glass from his hands, setting it on the table. Cassius pulled his stare to her. “Talk to me.”
“I knew that being in this position, having the chance to change things, it would come with difficult decisions,” Cassius finally got out. “Maybe I’ve made the wrong ones.”
“You did what you thought was right. That’s all any of us in power can do,” Thalia whispered, threading her fingers through his.
Cassius stared at their entwined hands.
“I—I’ve been thinking about what you said back in Corithian,” Thalia began, and Cassius flicked his gaze up. “When you said you wanted the power to not sit idly while those in charge dictate behind their own walls. I was angry when you said that. To know that you may have thought that about me.”
“I didn’t think that about you. I still don’t. You did what you could with what you had. That’s always what you’ve done, trying to better the lives of those in Agripa despite your mother calling the shots.”
Thalia swallowed, plowing on. “But you were right to want to change things. To work to get into a position where you could stop this hurt and death that has been lingering for far too long.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that I made a bad call,” he said bitterly.
Thalia frowned. “What can I do to help?”
“Nothing.” Cassius stared off, his face once more granite.
“There must be something I can do?” Something to take away that bleak look on his face, to take away the guilt that wrapped around his neck as heavy as millstones. Because no matter what she said, he’d still blame himself for Sybil, still blame himself for Thalia nearly dying. And that just wouldn’t do.
