“I don’t get scared,” he counters too quickly, and it makes my chest tighten.
“Yes, you do,” I say gently. “You just call it something else.”
That gets a low huff from him, almost a laugh. He shakes his head. “You think you’ve got me all figured out.”
“Not even close,” I admit. “But I’m trying.”
The silence that follows is companionable this time. Then, because the stillness feels too heavy, I ask, “What were you like growing up?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “You mean before all this?”
“Yes. Before the empire. Before the violence. Before you became the man you are now.”
His hand tightens slightly around mine. “Weak,” he says.
The word hits me like a slap. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true.” He exhales, head tilting back against the wall. “I wasn’t like my brothers. I was quiet. Too quiet. Couldn’t get a word out half the time.”
“Why?”
He hesitates, as if deciding whether he can trust me with a secret no one else knows. “I had a stutter.”
I blink, startled. “You?”
He gives a faint, humorless smile. “Yeah. Hard to imagine, huh?”
I shake my head. “Not hard to imagine. Hard to believe anyone would see that as weakness.”
“My father did,” he says flatly.
Something in the way he says it makes my stomach twist. “What do you mean?”
“He used to—” Sandro stops himself, jaw tightening. “He thought he could beat it out of me. Literally.”
My throat goes dry. “Sandro…”
“When that didn’t work, he stopped talking to me altogether,” he continues. His voice sounds detached, like he’s reciting someone else’s story. “He couldn’t stand it. Said it made me sound like a coward. So he pretended I didn’t exist until my speech tutor fixed me.”
I can’t speak for a long time. My heart aches with something sharp and hot. “He beat you for stuttering?”
He shrugs. “He made me strong.”
“No,” I say softly. “He hurt you.”
Sandro frowns, clearly taken aback. “He loved us.”
“Did he?”
“Of course he did.”
“Then why did he hurt you?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand. That’s how he showed it. He wanted us to be capable. To never depend on anyone else.”
“And that meant breaking you first?” I ask quietly. “Breaking all of you?”
His expression shifts, uncertainty flickering behind his eyes. “He didn’t?—”
