The monster, I realized.
The monster I’d thought had killed Roland... had been Roland.
“The shift still comes with phases of the moon. He doesn’t become a mindless monster, just... it’s a little like when you shift. Instincts come to the fore a bit more than usual, but you’re still you.” Tris leaned in, laying a hand on my shoulder, and when I didn’t shrug it off, squeezing. “He’s still Roland.”
Still—of course he was still Roland. What a silly thing to—oh.
I stared up at the miserable Roland and realized what the problem was. Roland himself thought he was a monster.
It wasn’t hard to imagine why. The creatures the other men had turned into had been the stuff of nightmares. To imagine Roland as one was too awful to contemplate.
But still, it was . . . he was . . .
Still drinking blood.
My time in the cage came rushing back to me with a vengeance. Vidar bleeding me to feed his monstermen. Being too weak some days to get off the bottom of my cage, because they’d bled me more than they had fed me.
A prized pet, I’d been, but not a pampered one by any stretch of the imagination.
It was impossible to imagine Roland treating me—or anyone—that way. He’d ended up in a cage right next to me. He knew as well as anyone what freedom meant.
He just... he just needed blood. My blood.
Or Tris’s, or someone else’s, I supposed.
But that wasn’t right. Roland was mine. I would simply have to . . . to . . . bleed. For . . .
Tris’s arms came fully around me, and my body refused to respond. To move. To lean in or away. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t think.
Bleed.
Bleed for . . . for Roland.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Why Roland had always kept me just that tiny bit distant from him. It hadn’t been because he’d wanted to, but because he’d had to.
For me.
Because I was weak, and couldn’t ever be what he needed me to be.
He forgave me for it, of course. Worried about me. Even now, he was looking at me, his bright blue eyes swimming with wetness. No accusation in him, only misery, because he knewI wasn’t strong enough to deal with this. To give him what he needed.
I squeezed my eyes closed and turned into Tristram’s strong chest for a moment. “I... I have to go,” I whispered when I pulled away.
No one said a word as I rushed out of the room.
13
ROLAND
He left.
And all I did was stand there and watch him go.
Hells, in some ways, it was a relief to see him turn his back on me.
I’d imagined this moment hundreds of times. Each time I took a sip from the goblet Rhys offered me with the gentlest smile, each time the buzzing need pulsed in my skull too much for me to think clearly, each time I knew I couldn’t manage my hunger without another taste, the image of Aderyn’s beautiful face, twisted in the agony of betrayal, sneaked up on me.
Every possibility had rolled around in my mind—that he would spit in my face, denounce me for the monster I was, and abandon me; that I would watch the pain pierce through him only for him to shove it away and promise to stay by my side. His claw would slice his delicate skin, and he’d offer his blood up to me, and I would?—
