“What is it—what’s wrong?” Zryan asks, shutting the balcony doors and leaning against them, eyeing her warily.
“You’re a rebel,” she says. And she should have suspected this, after what he confessed in the forest. But this? He’s betraying his own family, his closest friend, breaking his own laws, to save these people. Her gaze rakes over him. He is a rebel and the prince of Vatra. He is theprince of Vatra. So why doesn’t he stand up to his father? Why work in the shadows and save only a few when he could save so many more? “You could stop this conscription if you’re so against it, so why the secrecy? If anyone can do something, it’s you.”
He pushes off the doors, as if to go to her, but seems to think better of it. “Don’t you think I’ve tried?”
“Then try harder. Or are you too afraid of your father? People are being stolen away from their families and never heard from again, Zryan. Skylar’s best friend isdead. Dead because of your family. Surely you can do something?”
He looks as though she’s slapped him. “It’s not as easy as that—it’s not as easy since…” She knows what he means. Not as easy now that he won’t be king. He takes a breath. “It is not about being afraid, it is about being smart and thinking about the bigger picture. I don’t plan to keep raiding the vans and smuggling Blooded out of here, I know it’s not the long-term solution to this.” He scrubs at his jaw. “I am doing my best.”
Ice settles inside of her as she thinks of her own people, dying and starving and drowning. He could challenge his father about this damn Blight, but he hasn’t. Hasn’t even asked her about it, when he went to the Flatlands to tell her mother about Jessa. He must have seen what they’re facing.
“And what about my people, Zryan? What is your long-term solution for what’s happening to them?” He pushes his hand through his hair. All his anger has completely dissipated, and it’s like she, some sort of sponge, has soaked it all up. “Answer me, Prince: What aboutmy people!” she shouts. She paces in front of him, adrenaline making her need to move. “That’s why I was at the warrens tonight, formypeople. Because you and your shitty family sure as Hel aren’t doing anything to sort out whatever is wrong with the Heart.”
He tenses. “What do you mean—whatever is wrong with the Heart?”
She stops and takes him in. The genuine confusion, the concern, the edge of fury. “You don’t know? No one, not even Brithan’s baroness, has told you?”
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. There’s something wrong with the Heart? What does Brithan have to do with it?”
“We think so, and apparently your baroness agrees. And your father, though he’s always denied it to us. It’s what’s causing the Blight.”
He glances away, jaw tight. Looks back to Astrid. Then heaves a breath.
“Fucking Vaar. I didn’t know, Astrid.” He doesn’t ask her how she knows, just takes her at her word, and she’s grateful for that at least. That he believes her. “I didn’t know about the Blight until your mother was called away. I’ve been so preoccupied with what’s happening in Vatra. And I won’t apologize for focusing on my people, not when they need me, but I am sorry for being so fucking blinkered as to not see what’s been going on. My father…” He stops, shakes his head. “I thought I had it all figured out,” he finally says. “Thought I’d take the throne, help my kingdom, but—”
“But it was never going to be that simple. Even if nothing had changed, even if Skylar had never been discovered, this problem would still exist. The Blight is in Vatra, too, Zryan, and as much as you don’t want to hear this, our countries are tied together. It is our responsibility to save our lands, save our people, and if we’re to do that, then we have to find the Heart and fix it.”
He closes his eyes and tips his head back. “I saw everything, when I went to your mother.” She knows what he saw: sunken towns and bloated bodies. “I knew there had been issues in Vatra. I’ve been to the affected areas to help, but no one has ever mentioned the Heart to me.” He pauses. “My father stopped me traveling to Brithan much earlier than the other territories. Now I know why.” He curses, then trains his eyes on hers. “I’ve been such a fucking fool, Astrid.”
Yes, he has. But so has she. Because she realizes now. How could they have been so stupid? “That’s why they’ve been conscripting. Not because of republican unrest or the rebels. They plan to invade us, like my mother said. For our resources, because all you have in Vatra is Vitalas. And if the Heart is damaged in some way, then perhaps they’re worried that the Vitalas is going to run out.”
She bites her lip, thinking. That’s the part of it that sticks for her, though, because they have so much Vitalas, they use it for all sorts of ridiculous and unnecessary things. Well, they use a lot of it at The Rok. From what Skylar says, the rest of Vatra is not so lucky.
“There will be no war,” Zryan promises, hand going to the pommel of the blade at his hip. “I won’t allow it.”
“But what power will you have to stop it? Goddess, what power will Skylar have? Even if I’m dead and she rules, I can’t imagine your father is just going to cede the throne to his commoner, Exhauster daughter, can you?Shit.”
Zryan doesn’t speak for a moment, his eyes roaming over her face. “If Skylar wins,” he eventually says, that deep voice of his sounding devastatingly gentle, “I will make sure she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be—and that is on the throne of Vatra. I swear it on my own life and my dragon’s.”
She gawks at him. That, she knows, is the most solemn of oaths from a dragon rider. They’ve somehow gravitated toward each other, so close she could reach out and touch him if she wanted to. And, Goddess, she finds she does want to. She wantshim. But the guilt she feels whenever she’s around him is rearing its ugly head again. Her people are dying because of his family. Jessa died by Vatran hands. Out of nowhere, tears leak down her face.
“They killed my sister, Zryan,” she chokes out. “Someone in this castle killed my Jessa. How can we ever be anything other than enemies?”
Her anger has evaporated, because this is not about Zryan. He’s helping the Blooded, which is more than Astrid is doing for her people. Some trackers on carriages in the hope they might lead to the Heart feels so inconsequential now. So bare minimum. And at the expense of those poor people inside them, too.
Useless. She’s useless.
She covers her eyes as the tears flow faster. Then strong fingers close around her wrists, tenderly prying her hands away from her face, holding them between their bodies.
“I chose you,” he says quietly. “Tonight, I chose you over my own people. Placed you above everyone, above everything I’ve been working for. I chose you, I choose you now, and I will choose you again.” He presses his forehead to hers. “We are not enemies.”
Every word out of his mouth pierces the guilt, deflating it until it feels small enough for her to tuck it away inside of her and forget it.
He chooses her.
Zryan pulls back, one hand looping around her waist, the other lifting her jaw, his finger tilting her head so he can study her—and she studies him right back. Those eyes of silver ringed by black, the strong cupid’s bow and the bump in his nose, that tousled hair as if he just got off Mjolnir.
“You are exquisite, do you know that?” she murmurs.
