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Agnar’s heavy panting slows. “I saved you.”

“Me? As if I needed it more than a child! A toddler still in diapers.”

I’m on my feet, not even an arm’s length between us, before I realize I’m screaming. Raising fists filled with shreds of grass, I beat them into his chest and shoulder. Though I tear open my wound in the process, I’m beyond caring. “You left them! A child. I didn’t ask you to save me and never would have with a little girl right there! Crying. Begging for her mama.”

His body barely budges under my blows. The bastard doesn’t bother to lift his head, let alone have the decency to act like I’m hurting him. He deserves pain.

“It was too late for Mira. She was gone the minute that thing bit her. Elan saved Stark, but he ran back.” Agnar finally straightens, one hand pushing his hair back as he tips his head to the sky. I’m starting to think he’s avoiding eye contact with me on purpose. “And the baby is a boy. Not a girl. His name is Stark.”

My frazzled mind works to parse his words. I’m not sure why I assumed Stark was a girl, although all the crying probably contributed. I’ve spent my entire life listening to lectures about how little girls and daughters whine too much. “A boy. Okay. But you don’t know that⁠—”

He pushes away from the tree with such force, the leaves shake, then he glares at me through red-rimmed eyes. “Okay? You think knowing who somebody is doesn’t matter? You’re so focused on a life you know nothing about! I carried him, played with him, changed his diaper, taught him to say my name. You never even bothered talking to him.” With every sentence, Agnar gets louder, his flushed cheeks showcasing tears as they fall. The sight shocks me, but the righteous anger suffusing me continues to propel me forward.

How am I supposed to answer questions like that? Who thinks about getting to know a random child we’ll separate from soon enough? “You don’t know that Stark couldn’t be saved. There was still a chance.”

“I do. He was too close, and that thing was gaining ground.” He thumps his chest with one fist. “You think I wanted to abandon him? You think I won’t hear him screaming every time I close my eyes? I’d still make the same choice again. Because there was no time for indecision.”

His blue eyes glow with rage. Even when he’s this angry, they’re beautiful. Or maybe it’s his anger that illuminates them?

Stop thinking about such ridiculous things! Concentrate on what’s important.

I stumble back, needing more space between us. “So you decide who lives and who dies? Who gets tainted with Withering or the Hushing Sickness and who stays healthy? Who do you think you are to decide such things?”

Agnar ceases beating his chest and squares his shoulders. Then he stares down his nose at me, his lips pressed thin. All the anger drains out of him. “Yes.”

Stunned by that non-answer, I wait for a reason or explanation, but none comes.

Instead, he inhales through his nose. Sweat dampened auburn hair frames his stern features, and upon further study, I realize I was mad to attack him.

Still, I can’t let this be. “That’s all? Just yes. Period. The end. You’re so full of yourself that you get to play god and determine the fate of every human you come across?”

His tree limb arms swing out and up, his anger mounting once more. “Fuck the gods! They kill without thought. I didn’t choose who died back there. I chose who to save. That thing probably came from the gods, and it wanted you! Was drawn to you. You know it. I know it. And you didn’t flee like a sane person would. Don’t lay your guilt at my feet because you did nothing to help anyone.”

Agnar’s words are a slap in the face, and I spin away, my cheeks blazing with shame. I hate him so much right now. How could he say that to me?

I did nothing.

Tears burn my eyes, and all that loathing inverts.

Because he’s right. In the middle of the fray, everyone else acted. The old man and the one-armed soldier carried the two other kids away. Even the old woman who could barely move grabbed the baby and ran.

Me?

I just stood still. Then, like a moth to a flame, I gravitated toward the threat.

Why?

Agnar—may all the gods give him what he deserves—said it. The creature was drawn to me. But that was only half of it. I was drawn to it as well. The way the air rustled…I could almost hear it whispering to me. Hinting at secrets. Urging me closer until I started to succumb…to a creature who wiped Mira’s mind with a gentle caress and a bite. A creature so wrong, every hair on my body bristled and my skin buzzed with dread.

And then the headache struck me out of nowhere, and the pain blotted out everything else.

Agnar had to save me because I went to the creature while the baby went to his mother. “How do you live with it?” My insides twist, filling me with nausea. “The choices. The people you couldn’t save.”

Leaning against the tree, he glances over his shoulder. The branches cast shadows over his haunted expression. “You keep going. Do the next thing. Eventually, the screaming gets quieter. It never stops. But it’s quieter because you’re farther away.”

The same way you deal with loss, grief, and everything else in life. “One foot in front of the other? That’s it?”

He releases a bitter, brittle laugh that holds a lake’s worth of tears. For the first time, I truly think about who he is when he’s not abducting women in the middle of the night.