Page 168

“By all means.”

So far so good. “You told Amalia and Kyer you aspired to be a hunter like your mother when you first arrived in Rimore.”

Her expression drifted along with her emotions, settling on something equally smug and abashed. “I did.”

“That wasn’t entirely true.”

“Right again.” Lilith tied off a suture, wiped her hands, then placed her tools on the towel, signaling to Jarek she was finished. “You’ve got your answer in fairness, but I have a feeling you’d like to know why.”

“I would.”

Lilith cleaned his arm, blotting up bloody water with gauze. “I thought that’s what she wanted to hear. That I was more like my Evelian mother and not my nobody father.”

“Why would that have mattered?”

“I was young and thrown into everything so fast. Amalia was an authority I thought I had to please, and after I learned who I was, I figured she wanted me to like the thrill of killing, even if it was only animals.”

Jarek kept his voice soft. “How long did it take for her to figure out it wasn’t true?”

“Not long,” Lilith said behind a laugh. “At the feast celebrating my rescue, she asked me to kill the floral arrangements at the tables to demonstrate the Wraith. I refused and never stopped refusing.” Her gaze dropped to the floor. “The praise and the joy of my discovery turned into worry. An Imordial rejecting the will of the Primordials—of the very nature of its own Flare. It was unheard of. ‘Even Valen’s possession of the Guardian was purposeful,’ I heard her advisor say.”

Jarek caught the eye of Amalia’s advisor once while in her throne room. Isaak, an older man around Kyer’s age, was part of the Astor family, the ruling monarchs of Rimore at the height of the Reapers’ War. The one in power at the time was a traitor—betraying Ragnar Argent and turning him over to Valen so Draven could consume the Gnaw. Jarek wondered why Amalia would keep them anywhere close to the throne after that. Kyer assured him that the family had been serving the Argents faithfully since they took over Rimore some time after the events of the war.

Granted, this Astor was not his predecessor, but this didn’t help paint Isaak in a better light.

“There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to end a life.”

“It is with me. Isn’t that what everyone, including you, keeps telling me?” Her aura bloomed a bright red. “They blamed him for it. My dead father’s blood was what was wrong with me, and you know what? They were right. I wish I could spend my life helping people like he did. Giving to them instead of taking. I wish I could be like him. That I was more like…” She sighed, lowering her rising voice. “Like Luka.”

Jarek’s chest ached listening to her slowly unravel. Her aura was all over the place—red, greens, grays. A blend of emotion surrounded her, and all he could think about was her the other night on the balcony. She said she didn’t want to forget the other half of herself, and now she seemed like she was willing to give that up.

“You don’t have to let that part of yourself go.”

“I can’t be what’s expected of me unless I do.” Lilith flicked a glance to him, periwinkle embarrassment crossing her aura. She blinked. “Sorry. I don’t know why I—” She sealed her lips and then abruptly gathered everything and hurried into the washroom again. The water turned on, and Jarek stared at the movement of her shadow for a long while.

Lilith wanted the gift of giving life. Luka’s gift. What once was Jarek’s. It wasn’t surprising, yet he was struck at her admission. He didn’t know if she seriously meant she wanted the Guardian, but if there was any vessel who would treat it with the respect it deserved, it was her.

Except the Wraith chose Lilith. Despite her mixed blood, there was something about her that the Flare found endearing, and it wasn’t a lust for killing or destroying. Maybe it was her hesitation, empathy… Jarek thought of Keara the night he almost killed her. When he begged her to end his life and she wouldn’t.

Her restraint.

Perhaps the reason was what everyone feared it to be. The Wraith wanted a vessel that cherished life as much as the Guardian should. A vessel that wanted to give more than take. A vessel that was careful, and intentional, with its power.

A vessel like Lilith.

When the water turned off and she returned, her face was back to where it was—aura clear like the whole confession never happened. Jarek scrambled for a different topic to ignite another conversation with her.

“I forgot what old pain is like,” he said, looking at his swollen arm. “The Serpent heals everything so quickly that it rarely has a chance to settle.”

“It’ll make a nice scar,” Lilith said, sitting at his side again, fresh gauze in clean hands. “There’s remedies for that too if you don’t want one so noticeable.”

“If I leave it, I’ll have enough to start a collection.”

Lilith’s eyes flashed a hint of the interest he was probing for. “How many counts as a collection?”

“More than three.”

“You’ll only have four after this? You strike me as someone who’d have more than me.”