11
BARRETT
“You don’t have to remain silent, you know,” Lucia said as she worked to sharpen one of her throwing knives. “Youcantalk.”
I inspected my dagger, turning the blade over. It had been two days since I’d left her in the hallway; she hadn’t stayed away for long. “What exactly do you want with me?”
She didn’t react to my question, her attention fixed on her blade held against the grindstone, her foot pumping the peddle, turning the stone as she sharpened it.
“There is nothing I want from you,” she said finally, lifting the blade to inspect it.
She’s lying. Micah’s lying. They always want something.
“I knew your father, Elias.”
I winced inwardly, my grip tightening on the hilt of my dagger.
She continued to focus on her blade. “Ididn’t like him.”
The admission cut through me, nearly shattering the mask of indifference I had donned for decades. An odd quiet followed and I realized I had stopped working on my dagger, as had she. She sat up, the stone wheel rolling to a slow stop.
“He always made decisions that benefited him instead of our people,” she said, sitting back and wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her forearm. “We fought during The Council meetings often over the most trivial of matters.”
“In your past life?” The words slipped from my lips without my permission.
Her eyes softened as she turned to me and nodded. “If you could tell me what truly happened that night, I might be able to help you.”
Something inside me recoiled the moment she pried, fear and anger flooding my system. There was a part of me that wanted to trust her, wanted to believe I could trustsomeoneafter all these decades. Another part of me couldn’t. The last time I’d opened up to someone about what happened...
She was dead.
She was dead, and I...
The wooden door leading out of the prison chambers groaned as it opened, spilling light into the dark cell, and I flinched away from it. It was the first light I’d seen in Gods knew how many days.
How long had it been since she’d taken her last breath? How long had it been since I’d heard her voice?
I love you most.
I didn’t even have her last letter, didn’t even have a portrait of her. It had all been lost, every scrap, all proof of her existence wiped from the face of this realm in a matter of moments.
“Barrett Stratos,” the guard said, his voice sharp. I didn’t spare him a look, my eyes held captive by the delicate gold chain hanging from my wrist. It was all I had left in the hollow, numb wake of what had happened.
How had it gone so badly so quickly?
“You have a visitor,” the guard said, kicking the bars before me.
“Gods, you smell terrible.” The voice was familiar and full of pity. I lifted my gaze to find Jissena, Atticus’ bonded, standing from the other side of the bars, her face full of a kind of sorrow.
I couldn’t even feel the flames surge within me at the sight of her, my magic brought to heel by the warded iron shackles on my wrists and the bars caging me in. It felt wrong, like a violation, to be cut off from my magic. It had always been there, even if I couldn’t use it. It was as if they had taken away a part of me.
As if I hadn’t lost enough.
My chest swelled with fury so hot, the room should be set ablaze as I remembered all the things her bonded had done.
“What do you want?” I growled.
She nodded to the guard, taking the lantern from him before he stepped out and shut the door behind him, cutting off the light of day I’d craved for too many endless nights. Her knees met the stone floor. I stiffened, watching her movements, but she lifted the strap of a satchel over her head and pulled a small loaf of bread and a waterskin from within it. I swallowed at the sight of it, my stomach hollowed out from lack of food. They’d withheld food and water, only giving me the bare minimum needed to keep me alive until my trial.
