His expression shifts.
“You left me to manage everything here while you went and did what you needed to do in the mountains.” Perhaps I amnot being fair, but I don’t care. “And that was fine. That was necessary.”
“This is not the same.”
“Because it’s me?”
I close the distance. “Because suddenly I’m the one asking to go and now it’s reckless. Now I don’t understand enough. Now I need to stay somewhere you can see me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you meant.”
A soft knock interrupts us. Saurin steps in, her face unreadable, holding out her arms for Fiorakis. “Ari misses his sister, and so do I,” she says with a smile that tells me she knows we are arguing and wants Kiss away from it. I lean down and kiss the top of her head, then Colsar passes her to Saurin without a word.
She turns around, the door shutting softly behind her.
I fold my arms across my chest and stare at him. Silence pulls tight between us.
“You trusted yourself to go,” I say, quieter now. “You don’t trust me to do the same.”
“This is not about trust.”
His voice drops. “It’s about the fact that I cannot go with you. And I will not send you somewhere I cannot follow.”
He turns from me. His hand finds the vase on the mantle and then it leaves his hand and shatters against the far wall. His hands are shaking. “What hold does he have over you, Asha?” The question comes out rough. “He has starved you. Imprisoned you. Failed to protect you at every turn. And still you?—”
“For our daughter.” My voice is calm. “It is a risk worth taking. Don’t make it into anything else.” Even as I say it, something in me twists.
I step toward him. “I keep reminding myself that I did not deserve any of it. That surviving something does not mean I wanted it.” My fingers tighten slightly against my arms. “But there were moments I stopped fighting him entirely, and I do not know how to live with that yet.”
I laugh bitterly. “I let him starve me, Colsar. I let him…”
I draw in a breath. “I went days and days without sunlight. With nothing.” I pause. “And somewhere along the way I adapted to it.”
“But being angry at him means looking directly at all of it, and I am afraid of that.” My throat tightens. “I am ashamed of how much of it I endured.”
“This is for our daughter. I promise you that.” I cannot stop the tear that slips down my face. “And for the life we promised each other. I want a life away from monsters, away from people who would hurt us. Away from danger.”
He reaches and brushes the tear from my cheek. “I understand now. And I am in this with you. No matter what.”
He looks away briefly before continuing. “Here is the truth. I am not the man now that I was back then.” Pain moves acrosshis face. “I never should have left you for the mountains. Not after everything that happened between us. Not after finally understanding what you meant to me.”
Something in me aches at that.If you had not, the undead would have reached Shalvar and our son would have nothing to inherit, I want to say. But I do not interrupt.
“I knew how vulnerable you were, Asha,” he continues. “And I still left you alone in that palace with your sister and my brother.” His voice tightens. “I promised myself no one would ever hurt you again. Instead I handed you back to the two people most capable of doing it.”
His hands tighten slightly against my shoulders. “It will never happen again.”
“We agreed to do this together. Walking into an unknown threat with no exit plan, no backup, no way to reach you if something happens…” He shakes his head once. “I cannot accept that. Especially not with someone who has already harmed you.”
“We can find a way that does not involve you risking your life alone.” His voice tightens. “And you are right. Perhaps you can do it alone. You probably can.”
He draws in a breath. “But you do not have to.”
His hands find my shoulders, firm, grounding. “In Shalvar, when we were in the throne room together. When we were stuck there and all we could do was stare at each other…what was that? What was that, Asha?”
I understand what he is asking without him saying it.
