“Tesa is waiting for us to return with a promise to respect her right to choose when and where andifshe reveals herself to a man who thinks she is dead. So I’m not sure it matters if we rush right back in while you are being a selfish little monster.”
My lips parted as if I had been slapped. I did not take his arm, but I went ahead of him into the forest, seeking privacy.
Fear followed me. I knew we must be far enough away from the camp when he said, “Though, I am certainly a fool myself for being alone with you someplace you might draw a knife.”
I turned on my heel. “I despise you.”
He waved off my words. Now there was none of the smiling charm he had been performing in case anyone could see us at a distance. His golden eyes were beautiful and cold. “Yes, yes. I am not particularly withered by your judgment when you have been displaying such a lack of it generally.”
He paused. Then, more coldly still, “What exactly is it you wish from me? Besides for things to be entirely different?”
I stared at him, my jaw tight.
“Ah, there it is, mortal.” He took a step toward me, then another.
I refused to back away, so I found myself pinned as he put his hand on the tree behind me. His body stretched over mine, caging me there as I raised my chin. His face was so near mine, even though no one could hear us now.
“You know that Ander cannot be told the truth now,” he murmured. “Either Tesa or Ander will be betrayed. But it is her story and her right. Is it not?”
He knew I could not argue. For once. I pressed my lips together tightly.
“But you don’t want to be the one carrying the truth.” His voice had gone soft, but there was nothing merciful in it.
“I do not want to be deceitful like you.”
“You do not want to beresponsiblelike me,” he corrected. “Well, you demanded all my truths from me. You wished to sit in judgment. Now you are discovering just how unpleasant it is to be the one who decides.”
“It’s not our right.”
He nodded, though it was mocking. “Not our right to keep the truth from Ander?”
“No.”
“And not our right to tell Tesa’s story without her consent?”
I would have had to say no again, and he knew it. I would not. “You are infuriating.”
“And you are selfish.” He said it without raising his voice.
I forced myself to keep my gaze steady on his, though I could feel my cheeks were flushed hot. “I’m trying to figure out how to help both of them. What’s selfish about that?”
“You agree with me that it is Tesa’s right whether or not to tell Ander, and when, and how.” He stepped back, his hand falling from the tree; now I was pinned there only by his words. “You don’t like being the one who carries the truth. That has nothing to do with what’s best for Ander or for Tesa.”
He went on. “You want what’s best for you.”
He was silent for a moment, letting that land, before he unleashed the next volley. “You wish for the version where you do the right thing, only there is no right thing. You wish for the version where no one is betrayed, only there is no choice here that is not a betrayal.”
I crossed my arms, but it did nothing to armor me against his words. They battered against me like blows.
“You wish for the version where no one is angry at you. But you are not a child, and you cannot make decisions to avoid anger.”
He was right, and I despised it. I raised my chin, refusing to hide from that merciless gaze.
“You didn’t want to be complicit. You are. To deceive a friend is uncomfortable. I understand.” He stopped, his eyes flaring with hot anger. “That particular misery has been part of every decision I have made for the last ten years.”
He pulled away abruptly. His face shuttered, and it was only then that I realized he had revealed more to me than he had intended.
There was nothing I wanted to say in the silence between us. There was nothing I could say. I was foolish and selfish.
