He closes the distance between us and grips the wooden armrests. “So, think. All you do is sit here and stare at nothing.Think.”
I throw my hands in the air. “Oh, if only it were that easy to figure out a way to stop Marik, and oh—don’t forget—the most powerful witch in our history!”
He leans back into his chair and rolls his eyes. “Who gives a shit about easy? Do you think I’d be here, with you, if I was looking for the easy way? It would have been easy for me to just join my family in overthrowing the kingdom. But I didn’t. I chose what’s right. I chose you.”
His response hits me like a ton of bricks. He chose me. While I chose his brother. And made the biggest mistake of my life. We’ve been dancing around this conversation since the wedding, neither of us brave enough to cross the line. Neither of us brave enough to admit what we’re thinking to one another. I’ve been treading this line for weeks, scared of who he really is and how he might hold the power to hurt me again.
And right now, I find I just don’t give a fuck. The weight on my shoulders grows stronger every day. If I don’t do something about it, it will bury me. “I’m sorry I didn’t choose you.”
His eyes soften briefly before hardening again. “That’s not what I meant, Mae.” He runs his hands through his wavy hair, mussing it up even more. “Besides, you did. I said no.”
“I could have fought harder for you,” I counter. He doesn’t respond. The air between us is thick with regret for the things we did and didn’t do. “I’m sorry you had to choose between me and your family,” I whisper.
He shrugs. “I’ve always hated them.”
“Really? Even Marik?”
He shifts in his chair. “My parents? Yes, absolutely.” He pauses. When he looks at me, his eyes are full of pity again. I look at the floor. “I’m sorry he did that to you, Mae. For what it’s worth, I didn’t see it coming,” he whispers.
Me either. “Do you hate Marik?” I close my eyes, bracing myself for the blow of Asmo revealing himself to me.
Even the forest has gone silent. He takes three breaths, every exhale long. “I don’t know,” he admits. “A part of me—a huge part of me—does. For what he did to you. To Etta, and to William. But he is my brother, and the way we were raised was…I blame my parents.”
I chance a glance at him, but he’s lost in whatever memories he’s recalling. He grips the armrests, pale knuckles bathed in moonlight. “Marik has always been ambitious. I just never thought…He was always the better one of us. He was always sweeter, more patient, kinder. Maybe that’s why he did it. He always wanted to make my parents happy. I never cared about that. But Marik? He always blamed himself for the way they treated us. Maybe this was his way of making them proud.”
“A pretty fucked up way,” I mutter.
His answering nod is heavy. “I don’t know what to do either,” he admits.
I turn to him and raise my eyebrows in mock surprise. “Wow, I didn’t know you were capable of admitting defeat so easily.”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not admitting defeat. Not even close. I just don’t know how we can fix this. We need help.”
My eyes widen.
Weneed help.
“There’s no way the other High Houses are happy with what’s happening right now. We need to speak with them.”
He hesitates. “I don’t think they know the truth. My guess is they believe you’re on the throne and that you’re responsible for the current state of the kingdom.”
I shake my head, refusing to accept that. “No. They were there that day. They helped us fight. I don’t understand howthathasn’t gotten out to the public.”
His mouth twists into a grimace. “If I were in Marik’s shoes, I would do everything in my power to convince the Houses that Elle—or whoever it is—really is you, and that you’re in agreement with everything.”
“They’d never believe that, though. I know Barrett, August, and Koa.”
He frowns. “You have to remember who we are, princess. Who we were raised to be. We are ruthless, but we will yield to remain in power. The High Houses have been in power for a thousand years. We have always listened to the High Family, whether we agree or disagree. The High Crown is too powerful to ignore. And if I know my brother, he’s likely using other means and manipulation tactics to convince the High Families to fall in line.”
I stare into the dark forest. A hawk silently cuts through the night air.
How are we supposed to fight this?
I look at Asmo. He stares at me with those damned soft eyes again, as if he’s waiting for me to break down. He leans forward, reaching for me with one hand. “Come here,” he says softly.
“No.” I turn away from him, back to the forest, eager for anything to distract me from the pity in his eyes.
“Damnit, Mae. Let me be there for you,” he growls.
