“Ash wouldn’t think to debase me.”
“Kestra.”
“She’s right.” Ash steps into the clearing. Takes in the scene, me pinned to a tree, Kestra’s hand on the spear, blood running down my arm.
She chooses to leave me pinned.
“Seriously?”
“On her side.” Ash hooks a thumb at Kestra. “You have to let her make her own choices, Kieran.”
“You don’t understand.” I cry out as Kestra pushes the spear deeper. Sweat beads on my forehead.
I do not sweat. Ever. Until now, apparently.
“Then help me understand.” Kestra’s voice cracks.
“I—” I look up because tears burn behind my eyes. “If you don’t come with us then...then you no longer need me.”
“Kieran.” She doesn’t ease up on the spear.
“Listen.” I lick my lips. “Mother. You. You are so much like her. So beautiful, but where her heart was cold, yours is warm. And what if someone breaks it? Hurts you?”
“You’re afraid my fate will be similar to Mother’s.” Kestra removes the spear.
I wheeze and sink to the ground. Ash stares at me. There’s a fragility in her I’ve only seen once, after the Trial of Truth, when she came out shaking and wouldn’t tell anyone what she’d felt. She’s wearing that same look now.
Haunted, there isn’t another word for it aside from haunted.
“Yes.” I look back at my sister. And all I can see is the little girl who got stuck in a tree chasing a poisonous butterfly. Never mind that the tree was an eating willow.
“Choices,” Ash whispers, more to herself than either of us.
But Kestra runs with it. “It is my choice, Kieran. No matter what path lies ahead, it has to be my choice to walk it.”
“She’s right.” Ash says it with unshed tears in her eyes. “You can’t take the choice from her. But I would say one thing. Don’t make a choice with hate or regret in your heart. Okay?”
“Ash.” Kestra turns to her, to the woman I chose over my court, my birthright, my father, and looks at her with more understanding than I’ve earned.
“Don’t make a choice you’ll regret,” Ash says quietly. “And if there’s a goodbye, make it count.”
Kestra nods.
“Would it ease your concerns to know she is set to meet with your uncle?” Jadeve walks into the clearing like he owns it.
Which, given that my sister apparently lives here now, he probably does.
I push myself up, healing slowly. “What uncle?”
“Your father’s brother.” Jadeve looks at Kestra with a sheepish shrug.
My father’s brother. The baby cut from my grandmother’s womb. The one Father said lived in exile, if he lived at all. I’d assumed he was dead. Father certainly wanted everyone to believe it.
“Cullen is alive?” The name feels strange in my mouth. I’ve never spoken it aloud.
My sister grumbles.
“You knew?” I accuse her. “You weren’t going to tell me?”
