As much as I wanted to make him feel my hurt, he wasn’t entirely evil. He’d spared Alastor his justice when I’d asked. And Koan and Jolter. And maybe, if I could spare the king my anger, I could also spare myself the pain that came with it.
My own voice turned as ragged as his, but my mind cleared. I needed this as much as he did. “You did notintend for it to happen. Like I did not intend to hurt your rose and like Koan and Jolter did not intend to offend you.” I pulled the dagger closer to me. It was strong and solid and glowed with vibrant silver magic.
He let go of it, and I gripped it against my chest—one solid item to wrap my slanting world around. I felt like I’d run up a mountain all day, but the pounding in my head stopped for the first time since I’d seen his letter. My next words came out breathy but determined, as much for myself as for him. “I. Will. Not. Kill. You.”
A knot that had been caught in my chest burst open, and fresh air rushed into my lungs for the first time in days. I squeezed the dagger tighter as a weight lifted from my soul so fast it left me light-headed.
The king dropped to his knees and blew a long, slow breath out. “Thank you.” He raised his eyes to mine. “And what would you have me do?”
My heart sped up again as memories blurred my vision. This king asking for permission to carry me when he was a drekkan. This king protecting me from elves and giant crabs. This king handing me a book. This king giving up his seat in the theater. And now, this king kneeling in front of a cottage-raised half-fae who had less status in his kingdom than any other person.
He didn’t have to do any of that. His life would have been so much simpler if he had just let me die. He could have flooded my room in fire—consumed and erased the only person who knew what he’d done—but instead he knelt.
I didn’t know what to tell him. My heart warred with itself. Part of me wanted to help him, but part of my mind latched onto his words. He needed some kind of consequence for his actions thirteen years ago, right? Deciding to not ask for his just death did not mean he should escape all consequences.But shouldn’t his more recent actions weigh more in whatever scales of justice I was supposed to be considering?
“What do you think we should do?” I finally asked.
A hope lit his green eyes in a way that the anger and power he usually wore never could. “I would welcome a beating,” he said. “I would wear magic-cancelling cuffs so the pain lasted longer.”
“Why?” I blurted out. “Why are you so eager for more pain? Is there no such thing as enough for you?” I was so sick of it. The beatings and the fear he ruled with and the way he kept himself apart from everyone. It made him seem untouchable, but now I saw the truth. Underneath it all he was just another person trying to figure out this world.
He stayed on his knees, but drew back his shoulders and gripped his wrist behind his back. “I want to do better, but… I should pay for the damage I’ve already done. It is as close to justice as we can get without more death.”
“It won’t bring her back,” I whispered. “There is no payment that will fix death.”
He grimaced, and the muscles in his arm bulged. “That does not mean I should escape any consequences for it.”
A sweat broke out along his forehead, faster than I’d expect from nerves—even if they were the nerves of a king who hated himself. A light emanated from his skin, like the glow from a candle, and then he stifled a pained grunt.
“What’s wrong?” I asked. “Something’s—”
He clenched his teeth, bowed his head, and groaned—like a drekkan.
And then I remembered. Elf by night. Drekkan by day. I whipped my head around to thewindow, where early sunbeams sprinkled into the room. “You’re shifting into a drekkan?”
He nodded and bent downward, as if his stomach hurt.
I didn’t know what to do to help him, but I knew he wouldn’t fit in the door between our rooms as a monster.
“Go!” I hissed, waving at the door. “You have more space in your room.”
He turned his tormented eyes to me again, and then stumbled back into his own suite.
I shoved the door closed behind him.
Chapter 16: Aedan
Idid everything I could to avoid roaring as the fire in my blood ripped through my body, incinerating some bones while elongating others. The daily ritual of turning into a beast was just as painful as the first time it had ever happened, but—fortunately—only a few seconds long.
When it finished, I sprawled across my floor panting. For thirteen years the grueling experience had honed my hatred for the fae who had cursed me—for every fae that she represented—but today felt different. Today it felt like an insufficient penance.
Somewhere in the heart of last night, I’d discovered an intense remorse. The dozens of letters I’d drafted trying to explain myself to Callista or ask her to explain more to me were now ashes. I incinerated them all and dusted the remnants into a bin.
The words I’d finally settled on were the deepest feelings I had left. Deeper than my anger at being cursed. Deeper thanmy anger at whoever killed my own parents. Deeper than my desire to be a good king.
When I’d finally looked as deep as I could, I found a dissonance between who I claimed to be and who I was. And that dissonance had led to death, a curse, and more misery for my own people and for Callista than I could possibly catalog.
If only I could go back thirteen years and take Robin’s advice to speak to Radira instead of tricking her into surrendering the power I thought gave her a dangerous advantage over us!
