“You heard Dara, our family’s secret island is vacant–”
“The last time we stepped foot on an island, my father was murdered. Forgive me if I no longer trust Protectorate territories.Anyof them.”
I heard the venom in my voice. I told myself to be glad of it.
“Why?” he asked. “Why do you insist on staying here? You don’t owe these people anything–”
“You weren’t here!” I snapped. “None of you were! The last time I left the crater, the man who’d carried me on his shoulders tried to strangle me.”
His hands fell to his sides. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I’m sorry I didn’t kill Orion before he had a chance to do that.”
“It’s not just that.” I licked my lips, the defeat and remorse in Dax’s tone softening me, too. Enough that I was ready to askthe question we’d been skirting around since he’d arrived. “Can you honestly tell me that every single soldier in that Protectorate army would follow me by their own will, if not for the crown?”
Dax remained silent.
“That every civilian in Aquila–or at least most of them–would welcome me back after all the lies Silas has spread?” I pressed.
I wanted him to tell me I was wrong. That I was imagining how grim the situation truly was and that, yes, of course, I’d be greeted with open arms and allowed to defend my Clan.
Instead, Dax clenched his jaw. “Betrayal and cowardice are the gravest sins in the Protectorate. If they think you’re guilty of either, let alone both–”
“I’m not.”
“I know,” Dax said patiently. “And a lot more people do, but whatever supporters you have–those who were at the wedding that day and saw you rush through that maze trying to save us all, most of the trustworthy Sentinels–they’ve all been driven away from Aquila. Silenced. Forced to hide. There’s nobody there to contradict Silas’ lies.”
“What about the past?” I hissed. “What about the negotiations, the lost nights?”
He sent a sad smile my way. “People forget fast.”
“Then that’s their problem.” Even as I said it, the words tasted like ash in my mouth. “There are thousands of them and one of me. If they want to support Silas–”
“They don’t know any better–”
“They should!” I bit out, shocked by my own vitriol.
“They’re afraid–”
“Are they?” I bared my teeth. “They haven’t lived with the fear of the army turning their weapons against the civilians. Or being thrown into prison because they said something the First Family didn’t like. Our Clan has never used brute force tocower the people into submission. This is not fear, Dax. They’re expecting someone else to fix their problems, like always. They’ve been accustomed to the First Family shielding them and even though some might hate Silas more than me–or will soon, because he will destroy Aquila through sheer ineptitude, if nothing else–they still expect someone else to give the command for them to dosomething.”
“That’s what leaders do.” Dax’s gaze darkened. “We shoulder the responsibility so they don’t have to.”
“They can’t curse my name and expect me to save them at the same time.”
“You were raised for this.”
I shook my head. “Stop saying that.”
“It’s true! You were!” His nostrils flared. “And you were good at leading us even when Alaric was alive. Your only mistake–”
“Oh, please, tell me all about the myriad of mistakes I made while trying to keep everyone happy.”
“You didn’t take credit for everything you did,” he said, softer. “The civilians knew you were fierce, but you didn’t let them see how selfless you were. You solved problems nobody even knew existed. They have no idea what you sacrificed for them.”
“I did what had to be done,” I seethed. “I didn’t do it for glory.”
“That’s the problem. Silas can’t shut up. About how you ran away at the first arrow and left your father for dead–”
I hissed a breath. My powers bubbled to the surface, ready to snap.
