I don't move. Don't dare to breathe.
"He kept me in a room with golden chains. Said they suited my skin." Her free hand unconsciously moves to her ankle where I've noticed the faint circular scars before—marks I never asked about. "When I was carrying Erisen, he would tell me what he planned to do with our child. How he would make him stronger than any half-blood had a right to be."
The hatred in her eyes burns bright enough to scorch the air between us. I've seen that look before—in my own reflection.
"I don't want your pity," she spits, misreading my expression. "I want you to understand why I can't ever go back. Why I will kill anyone who tries to take us there."
"I understand," I say, and I do. The weight of her words settles on my shoulders, familiar and heavy. "But I won't take you back, Esalyn. I know what it's like to try to outrun your past. I know what it's like to never know a moment of peace."
The temple air grows thick with our shared history, with the weight of survival hanging between us. Outside, the wind howls against the abandoned stone walls, a lonely sound that matches the emptiness I've carried for so long.
"So you became the hunter instead," she says, understanding dawning in her eyes.
I nod once. "Until I found you." She's starting to look so uncertain, so I add, "That's why I couldn't stop myself when it came to both of you. You…gave me that. The peace and a reason to live that I didn't have before. I wouldn't give you up, not for the money or a bounty. Not for the right or wrong reasons."
She shakes her head. "You know, Erisen has never gotten close to anyone. But he asks about you," she admits, the words clearly costing her. "Wanted to know where his Domno went."
The possessive—hisDomno—slices through me like a blade far sharper than the one at my throat.
"I told him we had to leave," she continues, voice hardening again. "That it wasn't safe anymore."
"It isn't," I agree. "Not now that others know. Kareth was just the first. There will be more."
Her jaw tightens, the tendons in her neck standing out. "I've been running from Vorrak for six years. I know how to disappear."
"Not from hunters like us." The truth is cruel, but necessary. "Not anymore."
The knife presses harder, drawing another trickle of blood. Her eyes flash with renewed anger. "So what then? You tracked us here to warn us that we can't run from you? That's not making your case any better, demon."
There it is—that fierce protectiveness that first drew me to her. The way she stands like a warrior twice her size, defending what's hers with every piece of herself.
"I tracked you to protect you," I say simply.
She laughs, a sharp, brittle sound. "Protect me? By finding me for Vorrak?"
"By standing between you and anyone who comes for you," I correct, my voice dropping lower. "It's what I've been doing since I first saw you."
Something dangerous flickers in her eyes—not trust, but possibility. It's a look I recognize from cornered prey that suddenly realizes it has options beyond fleeing.
"Why would you do that?" she asks, suspicion lacing every word. "What's in it for you?"
I could lie. Could claim honor or duty or some noble purpose. But I've lied enough.
"Because when I'm with you and Erisen, I remember who I was before the darkness took everything," I admit, the truth raw and exposed. "And I want to be that man again."
22
ESALYN
His words hit something raw inside me—a place I've kept guarded since the day I ran from Vorrak's estate with a newborn clutched to my chest.
"Because when I'm with you and Erisen, I remember who I was before the darkness took everything. And I want to be that man again."
My hand trembles against his throat, the knife suddenly heavy. Blood beads around the blade's edge—his blood—dark against his gray skin. The sight of it makes my stomach twist. I've never been the one to draw blood, only to have it drawn from me. The power feels strange in my hand.
"Lower the weapon, Esalyn." His voice is gentle but firm, like he's speaking to a wounded animal. Those golden eyes that have watched me across market stalls and my tiny kitchen table hold steady. "I'm not here to hurt you."
"Aren't you?" My voice cracks. "What do you call this, then? This betrayal?"
