Tristan squeezed her in closer. “Cassandra.” His sigh was laden with guilt, as if he were the one who’d caused the tragedy. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“It happened the year after my father died, when I was thirteen. My mother was adrift in her grief and we had no support, no lifeline. We moved to the slums, not far from where Mistress Callas lives, and Mama started selling memories to keep me fed. I was with her at the Temple when it happened. Mother Superior took me in afterward. That’s why I never left, even though there were times when freedom from the order was the most tempting prospect in the world. I couldn’t abandon Mama, not after she’d sacrificed everything for me.”
“I’m sure your mother wouldn’t have wanted you to give up your life for her.”
“I know that now. The day that I left the Temple, she…” Cassandra’s eyes burned. But she’d shed enough tears tonight, couldn’t possibly have any more to give. “She told me she didn’t regret anything. Not leaving the order and certainly not her love for my father, despite all the pain his loss had caused. She said my father would’ve wanted me to live.”
“Smart woman.”
Tristan smiled against her hair. And though she really didn’t want to know the answer, she knew she had to ask the question.
“Do you still love her?”
Tristan sighed. “I will always love her.”
Cassandra closed her eyes and tried to ignore the ache stabbing through her chest.
She should have known. All the stories she’d heard about him and his conquests, all the women and females he’d had over the years. All nothing more than an attempt to distract from his one true love. Diversions—exactly what he’d promised her in Meridon.
His heart belonged to someone else.
As if sensing her discomfort, Tristan continued, “But it’s hardened into something different over the years. Something less immediate, less fiery, less all-consuming. Honestly, I’m not even sure why she wantedmein the first place.”
Cassandra scoffed. “As if it’s possible for any female to not want you.”
“Oh, yes, I’m such a catch. Behind this pretty face is a coward and a failure who prioritized his own desires above the needs of his people. Doomed an entire species to centuries of misery and servitude. If I had just done what my parents wanted, chosen a Fae mate and bided my time until I took over as Emperor, I could have fixedallof this. Your father might still be alive. Your mother might not be an obliviate. How can you even bear to be sitting here with me?”
She sat up in his lap and cupped his face. “Hey. Quit badmouthing my friend.” He blinked and gave her a rueful smile. “You have no idea how things would’ve turned out. For all you know, you could’ve come into power, tried to change things, and then gotten yourself assassinated.”
“Real comforting, Cass,” he snorted.
“All I’m saying is, you can’t change what’s happened. The only path forward is forward.”
“What evenisthat path anymore?” Tristan pondered. “We didn’t get the necklace. It’s fallen into the hands of an enemy we’ve yet to identify. I shudder to think what my brother will do once he finds out.”
“Spin it,” Cassandra shrugged.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s actually positive news, when you think about it. We know Maksym didn’t get the necklace.Andwe have clues about who did. Tell him that we’re continuing to follow leads. I’m sure he’ll be interested to hear about another Fae wielding resurrected elemental magic. And that symbol she was burning into the ship.”
“You’d make a good politician,” Tristan smirked, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
She fought to suppress a shiver. “I’ll head over to the Fang and Claw to talk to Reena tomorrow night, see what she might be able to tell us about the symbol.”
Tristan opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, an errant wind stirred his feathers and he grimaced.
“What was that?” Cassandra asked.
“Windwhisper from my brother,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “I’ve been summoned to the Vicereine’s Palace to provide him with a report. Immediately.”
Cassandra extracted herself from his lap as he pushed up out of his chair.
The moon had risen higher during their long chat, and his wings twinkled like stars in the silvery light. He speared a hand into her hair, cupping the back of her skull and tilting her face up. “Thank you. For listening. And for being kind.”
He lowered his mouth to hers and her body melted, even as protests swarmed her mind. The moment his warm, soft lips made contact, a sob bubbled out of her.
He pulled back, then rested his forehead against hers. “What’s the matter?”
