That must be Gallium. My lips tug in a brief smile, because I believe he would.
Asha replies, so softly that I can barely make out her words even with my enhanced hearing. “Quiet now.”
I press my forehead against the wood. For a wild moment, I consider scooping them all up and following one of the hidden passageways and disappearing into the mountains with Asha and her siblings.
I nearly do it. I’m prepared to do it, but then reality stops me.
She won’t come with me willingly. She’ll think I’m dragging her out into the wasteland to kill her and her family. To protect her brother and sister, she’ll fight me as hard as she can.
I’m covered in the blood of her people and there’s nothing I could say that would make her believe my purpose is to keep her alive.
Without the option of escape, there are no good choices open to me.
Malak told me how he drained her siblings’ power, so I know I can convince the humans that the twins are harmless, but Asha is another Blacksmith in their eyes. They will fear her and want her dead, and if I try to stop them, if I fight them…
The taste of death fills my mouth and I fucking hate it.
I can’t stomach even one more death today.
The only way I can bring peace to this city while keeping Asha alive is for her to choose to be my captive.
I will do whatever it takes to force that choice, even if I have to threaten to cut off the hand I once saved.
I hang my head for a moment before I take a deep breath and tell myself I will be nothing more than a beast to her and that is what I must continue to be.
Pushing away my doubts, I ram my fists against the door, knocking it off its hinges and cracking through the wood. The door crashes across the room and I sense all three heartbeats jumping and thudding.
The broken door slides to a slow stop halfway along the black marble floor that stretches out ahead of me.
It’s a cold, empty room, at the end of which sits a silver throne. The malice radiating from the throne is as chilling as the cruelty in Malak’s table.
My new weight makes my footsteps heavy, thudding across the floor as I approach the thin strip of white material protruding from behind the throne.
I round the seat, prepared to meet Asha’s eyes for the first time, prepared to face her hatred, but instead, she huddles there with her head down.
She’s holding Tamra and Gallium to her chest, her hands across their ears as if she was trying to block out the screams.
Tamra’s hair is matted with blood, her scalp is bleeding, and her shoulders and arms are scratched. Gallium, too, is bruised and has a cut across his cheekbone.
I remember the blood beneath Ayla’s fingernails and I can’t stop my growl of anger. Can’t calm the breath seething in and out of my mouth. Even though all it does is frighten them.
It’s just as well. Asha must fear me if she is to surrender.
As soon as my shadow falls over them, Tamra starts crying, her quiet sobs tightening like claws around my chest, but I force myself to harden my heart.
“Fear,” I snarl, low and soft, trying to ignore how much I hate that I’m the cause of their dread.
But then my senses alert me to the absence of the emotion I expected most.
I’m surprised. And confused.
“But not hatred,” I say.
Asha’s chest rises and falls rapidly while her heartbeat pounds in my hearing. “I can’t hate you.”
But she must.
Shemusthate me or my walls will crumble.
