“Everything is about him!” The words burst out before I can stop them. “Every shadow, every doubt—he planted them all, and you’ve only proven him right.”
I watch her face, searching for any hint of remorse, but find only that stubborn pride that first drew me to her.
My mind races through every interaction, every subtle touch, every time she pulled away. All those moments I dismissed as grief or trauma now reveal themselves as calculated moves in a game I didn’t know we were playing.
How many times did she meet with Titanus after leaving my company? How many sweet lies did she whisper to keep me compliant while she pursued her true desires?
A familiar darkness unfurls in my chest, the same one that sprouted the day my father handed me that worthless piece of metal.
Second best. Always second best. The spare. The shadow. The fool who dares to reach for something real.
The worst part isn’t even the betrayal—it’s that I allowed myself to hope. To believe that someone might choose me first.
But Asha is just like all the rest, using me for my power, my position, my ability to further her goals.
I want to hate her. The gods know I want to hate her. But beneath the rage and humiliation, there’s something else—a grudging respect for how thoroughly she played me. In another life, we might have made quite the pair, two broken souls carving our way through the world.
But now?
Now I see her clearly for the first time. Not as the grieving sister or the passionate rebel, but as someone just like me—willing to sacrifice anything,anyone, to achieve her goals.
The recognition doesn’t bring the satisfaction I expected. Instead, it leaves me hollow, like I’m staring into a looking glass that shows all my worst traits reflected back at me.
“I’m sorry if you misunderstood,” she says after a while.
Her apology is meaningless.
I speak in an icy voice. “We’re done, Asha.”
Without waiting for her answer, I turn, push past the tent flap, and step into the night air.
Chapter Forty-Six
Aleksander
I gripa terracotta jar full of wine and sink onto a log by a dying campfire. The stars mock me as I tip the jar back, letting the bitter spirits burn down my throat.
How dare Asha use me like that, play me like that?
Footsteps crunch softly behind me. I don’t bother to look up.
Without a word, someone slides onto the log opposite me. A slender hand reaches out and plucks the jar from my grasp.
My eyes snap up, meeting Kythara’s gaze. Her eyes stay locked with mine as she tilts the jar to her lips, taking a long drink.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask.
A hint of a smirk plays on her lips as she lowers the jar. “Sharing.”
“I didn’t peg you for a thief.”
“And I didn’t peg you for a sulking child.” She hands the jar back.
Not bothering with niceties, I snatch it from her. “Shouldn’t you be sharpening your sword or scowling at someone else?”
Firelight softens her features as she leans back and shrugs. “The night’s young, and there is plenty of time for both.”
“This camp is vast. There are plenty of fires to choose from.”
