Incredulous, she shook her head. “And what good am I against such a threat? Gods, I’m abard.”
“You wield inhuman magic,” he said. “Your beast took away my chief and his intended heir to whatever destiny they deserved.”
Trisha groaned. “You don’t understand, Blainor. The fae, they’re not friendly. Nor are they kind. On the contrary, they’d relish the destruction and death you told me about.” She shivered, recalling Shi’as’ promise. If she called him, he’d take her. “And even if I could do what you want, it would be my undoing.”
His hand dropped on the next chair’s backrest, finger tapping the wood. “I’ve met them. The ghosts. You don’t know what they’re like, Trisha. They smell wrong. Sweet, sickly.” He paused, as though hesitating. And when he spoke, his words came heavy, as if speaking them aloud cost him something. “The same as your magic.”
Her eyes widened, shock crushing the air out. “That’s why you wanted me to follow you to Eichlandt.”
Blainor looked away, shoulders tensing.
Trisha was hollow, an icy sensation spreading through her veins. The wind from the open balcony doors met her cheek, but it was all wrong. Too warm. Too gentle. A choked sound left her, bitter and acrid. There were no words to describe the depth of her distress.
“You must’ve enjoyed it,” Trisha spat. Playing me like a fool. Making me think that you really?—”
No.She wouldn’t speak those words.
Blainor’s expression shuddered, regret, or sorrow, softening the hard lines of his face. “Trisha, don’t. Don’t twist my intentions.” He sucked in a sharp breath, facing the portrait wall where his ancestors watched with their dead eyes. “I didn’t know at first—just suspected. And I thought to myself. Why not invite you to the north, find out if I was right?”
“Go ahead, tell more lies,” she shot out, venom dripping from every word. “Be proud of yourself. So perfect in your manipulation. Worming your way into my bed.”
His straining patience snapped as he spun around. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Trisha. I wasn’t supposed to care. I didn’t plan this…” Words caught in his throat, a vein pulsing in his temple. “This damned entanglement.”
“Entanglement? That’s all it is to you?”
He looked aside. His hand pressed the chair’s backrest, knuckles whitening.
“Oh, I see now. I see. You know what? Don’t bother, Blainor.” Fury made her tremble, her fingers drawing tightly. “I can only blame myself for ever even thinking I could trust you. You’re just like everyone else. All you care for is power.”
“I do what I must,” he said, voice strained. “If it means choosing between a single soul and thousands of lives, I choose my people. Even if I damn myself all eternity for it.”
“Yes, you’ll bedamned,” she scoffed. “And to think I’d help you? That I’d stay, voluntarily, knowing this? I’d rather die.”
A breeze tossed a lock of his hair and blasted the memory through. Of how soft it had felt under her hands, his warm breath, the heat in his gaze. His gentle nature. The man before her now was unrecognizable. No, he had only steel in his eyes.
“I’m not asking, Trisha.”
“Of course you’re not. But you’ll be waiting for a long time for me to bow.”
Blainor made a sound, almost a chuckle. “And sacrifice all the lives you’ve come to know and care about?”
Trisha’s lips pressed together, bile of fury rising. He saw her too clearly. She hated him for it. Hated herself for being such a fool.
“I don’t even understand what you want from me.” No matter how much it hurt, she went on, “Call the fae to whisk away these… ghosts? What are they, Blainor? Why do you believe I could help you against such a threat?”
Faint sounds, birdsong, and wind in Moorhafen’s walls. Blainor didn’t respond, retreating where the light didn’t reach.
“A legend. Something told to children from the time of Ergoth,” he said, cadence slow. “Or at least, that’s what they should be. A legend, a song to honor our forefathers. Or so we thought until seven years ago… They emerged and caught us by surprise.” Blainor’s hand resting on the mantel clenched into a fist. The thick, white scars on his knuckles rippled in a wave like a snake. She couldn’t look away. His voice, when it came, was hoarse. “All they leave behind is death.”
Despite his lies and how he’d wounded her, despite her splintered insides, Trisha’s throat tightened. Damn him. Damn his pain.
She refused it, shoving any feelings she might have into the very bottom of her heart. Blainor deserved nothing from her. No sympathy. No pity. Nothing. He had betrayed her, and she could never forget it.
“Blainor, that didn’t answer my question.”
He dropped his arms by his sides. “There are signs, passed down over generations. Snow in the southernmost peaks of Everfrost, frozen pastures, wolves moving to the south.” The words were like an omen. The way he stood, dressed in black, eyes emotionless, bearing no remorse. The only drop of light was the silver embroidery in his cuffs and collar, glistening inthe afternoon sun. “This winter they’ll come again. And I will not let my land burn to ash.”
She tried to comprehend. Her thoughts remained muddled, the exhaustion aching in her bones. The jagged teeth of disappointment tore at her chest, numbness spreading. She turned away, but it didn’t help against the torment of her thoughts. If he was right… All his people. Dietric, Aine, Asa, and the others. If Blainor didn’t lie. If?—
