“You didn’t,” I stop myself. “You didn’t try to stop it?”
His expression hardens, a muscle ticking near his temple.
“I did.” The words are flat. Controlled.
“And?”
“He wanted me to. My uncle.”
That makes no sense. “Why?”
Sorren’s gaze fixes on the road ahead. “Because if I had struck him first, even in defense of my father, it would have been seen as a challenge for the throne. An act of ambition.”
I swallow. “So?”
“So the court would have split. Blood would have followed. Houses would have chosen sides.” His voice remains even, but there’s something under it now. Something raw, wounded, angry. “My uncle was prepared for that.”
“And you weren’t?”
“I was prepared to win,” he says. “Not to burn my kingdom down in the process.”
The weight of that settles in the car.
“You just…let it happen?” I ask softly.
“No.” His hand curls into a fist against his thigh. “I was restrained.”
That gets my attention.
“By who?”
“My father.”
I glance over.
Sorren’s profile is carved in stone.
“He ordered me not to interfere,” he says. “He bound me with his magic. Said if I respected him, I would let him die cleanly.”
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. My grip tightens on the wheel.
“Oh, my God.”
“I could not move,” he says. “Could not speak. I could only watch.” His voice is still even. Too even. Too calm. But when I glance over, his body is rigid, every muscle drawn tight, every line of his body sharply carved.
“The first strike took his hand.”
I swallow the queasy feeling I get from those words.
Sorren’s gaze never leaves the windshield. “The second split him open. Throat to groin.”
Blood roars in my ears.
“The third—” Sorren’s throat works. “The third took his head.”
A sound leaks out of me, even though I hide it. Like I’m the one who was wounded.
“He bled out at my feet,” Sorren says quietly. “While I remained standing exactly where he left me. It wasn’t until his lifeblood was fully drained that his magic released me.” He looks away from me, out the window. “That’s when I knew I had no other choice but to run. My uncle is stronger than I or my father ever realized. He must have been training with winter’s magic. Dark magic, to be able to kill my father like that.”
