“I am nothing like them,” I say, not bothering to hide the disgust from my voice—the disgust that she would think I am anything like them.
“Truly?” Her hem lashes against her legs as she whirls back to face me. “Then, why did you look so alive covered in blood?”
I press my palms flat against my thighs. “Because they hurt you. Because every death meant you were one step closer to being free.”
“Free?” Her voice cracks. “I’ll never be free of what I did. And watching you embrace the same darkness...”
“Annora.” My throat tightens on her name as I shake my head, not knowing how to reach her.
She closes her eyes and exhales. “I need time,” she says, her words so soft they take a moment to register.
“We’ve been apart for too long already.”
She looks away and sniffs. “I cannot be around you right now.”
After everything—the distance, the battles, finally getting her back—and now she looks at me like I’m a stranger. Like I’m the enemy.
“Do you think I’m like them?” The words taste like poison. “That I enjoy death for death’s sake?”
She doesn’t answer.
My fingers tingle with the urge to break something, burn something, prove to her just how much control I still have by choosing not to.
But that’s exactly what she fears, isn’t it? This violence coursing through my blood.
I force my fingers to uncurl, one by one, then draw in a breath that scorches my lungs. “I killed those men because they serve the people who hurt you. Because every time I close my eyes, I see you trapped by Aleksander’s magic.”
She wraps her arms tighter around herself, and the gods help me, I’ve never felt more useless. All my power, all my strength, and I can’t protect her from these wounds. Can’t even touch her without making it worse.
“Don’t push me away.”
“I need to be alone,” she says in a brittle whisper.
“Fuck!” I whirl around and clench my hands into fists. “Don’t do this, Annora. Do not ask me to leave you right now.”
“Please,Jasce.”
The plea in her voice shatters something deep inside me. Not just my heart—my very soul fractures, splintering into jagged pieces that tear at my insides with every breath.
“If that’s what you need.” My voice comes out rough, unfamiliar.
She doesn’t respond.
I turn away, each movement mechanical, wrong. Near the tent flap, I pause and wrap my fingers around the fabric until my knuckles burn.
“I love you.” The words scrape my throat, but I say them anyway. “Even if you can’t bear to look at me right now.”
Still no response.
I push through the opening and step into the crisp morning air. The camp bustles around me—soldiers cleaning weapons, tending wounds, preparing meals. Life continues as if my world hasn’t just crumbled to ash.
One step. Another. Each one drives those shards deeper.
Not even watching my mother walk away when I was eight left this pain in my chest. Not the countless times my father’s fist connected with my jaw. Not leading men to their deaths in senseless battles he orchestrated.
I make it twenty paces before I have to stop, bracing my hand against a tree trunk. The rough bark bites into my palm, but I welcome the physical pain. It’s easier to bear than the emptiness spreading through my body.
She asked for space, and I’ll give it to her. Even if every instinct screams to go back, to make her understand that everything I’ve done has been to protect her.
