He looked surprised. "That's what you want to know?" He asked in disbelief.
I was confused. "Zyn, of course. You were… are my son… " I laughed nervously. "Well, I suppose it's more complicated than that, but zyn, it must have felt to you like… somebody pulling a rug out from under you."
His eyes bored into mine, filled with distrust, hurt, and… vulnerability.
"You and Oksana are the only people who have ever asked me this, or even insinuated that I had feelings about that too," he said, and brushed a tired hand through his hair. The motion was weary, unguarded. He didn’t look like a ruler then. Not like a susserayn or a vissigroth. Just a male whose life had unraveled too many times and who, somehow, still kept going. My heart went out to him. Even if I didn't remember him being my son, love for him awakened inside me with an intensity that was hard to describe. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t need to. I just kept my hand on his arm and let him speak.
"I wanted Thalia dead," he said suddenly, voice flat.
I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. He turned to look at the river, his expression unreadable. “I told myself it was for Leander. That her existence was dangerous. That she would cause instability. Chaos. I looked at her and saw a threat.”
I didn't press him, I just waited, ready to listen when he was ready to speak again.
"I could say, I didn’t know she was my sister,” he added quietly. “That I thought she was a fraud. An outsider trying to steal what was rightfully mine. But that would be a lie. The moment I saw her, that I saw her scales, I knew her for the threat she was tome. And I wanted her dead."
He paused, dragging a breath into lungs that didn’t seem to want it. “I was raised like a prince,” he said. “Spoiled. Angry. Always reaching for things I didn’t understand and resenting the ones who had them. For the longest time, I thought power would fix that. Being a vissigroth. Being better than my father or anyone. But it just made me hollower.”
I watched him as he spoke, his face in profile, lit by the moon. His jaw was tense with memory. There was no defense in his voice. No spin. No pride. Just truth.
The strange thing was… I understood him. I nodded at him, to make him see that I did. Because every day, someone looked at me and expected something. Expected me to remember, tobe. A mother. A mate. A symbol.
But I didn’t remember who I was.
Myccael, he had remembered everything, only to learn it had all been a lie.
Two voids, side by side.
“You changed,” I said softly.
He looked over at me, surprised and skeptical.
“You did,” I repeated. “Whatever you were before, whoever you were raised to be… that’s not who you are now.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. Just looked at me like he wasn’t sure I was real.
“I’ve watched you,” I continued. “You speak like a leader. But more than that, youlistenlike one. You protect people, even when they don’t ask for it. Even when they don’t deserve it.”
“I tried to kill my own sister,” he repeated in a low voice.
“But you didn't,” I replied. “And now you love her. I can see that.”
He looked away again, his throat working.
“I just… some days, I don't recognize myself.” He admitted.
My smile was sad and real. “Neither do I.”
We sat in silence after that, shoulder to shoulder. Two broken pieces of different puzzles, still managing to fit beside each other.
The river flowed below, and the stars kept their counsel.
And for the first time, I felt like maybe—just maybe—not knowing who I was didn’t mean I couldn’tbecomesomeone worth remembering.
Dinner was simple but warm, and I knew instantly Mallack had insisted on it. The food was rich with spices I didn’t remember liking, but apparently, I once had. He made sure everything was soft enough to chew easily, checking my plate before I even noticed. My chest ached at the care in his every move. He didn’t crowd me, but everything about him radiated devotion.
We sat side by side on the cushioned bench in Myccael’s massive tent, the flickering lanterns casting soft gold over the walls. Mallack’s body heat was a steady presence against my side, and it felt good. Comfortable. Familiar in a way that my mind couldn’t recall, but my body remembered. I found myself leaning into him more and more as the meal went on.
We didn’t talk about the magrail, or the Zuten, or the Renegades.
