Sev forced a smile, though he didn’t find the information at all amusing.
“I knew . . . about your parents,” he said haltingly. He paused, as if expecting Sev to lash out in anger like he had the last time they were mentioned. When Sev remained quiet, he continued, “I’d grown up knowing their names. I lived in that safe house they protected; I watched the fires burn from the back of a wagon as we escaped. I owe my life to your parents, and when Ilithya told me their son had survived, I . . . Well, I was eager to meet you.”
Sev felt strange, weightless—disconnected from his body. Kade had known who his parents were all along? Had lived in the safe house? Sev had been there several times, when raids happened to nearby villages, or when soldiers were spotted along the border. Sometimes he and his parents would drop off whatever extra food or supplies they had—anything to help. He and Kade might have seen each other, even played together, and if Sev had listened to his parents, he’d have been on a wagon alongside him, on his way to safety.
“I knew that you’d be something special, that you could help us win this war. Only . . .”
“Only I wasn’t,” Sev said dully. “I wanted nothing to do with your war.”
“It made me angry. That day, outside the cabin . . . I expected you to charge in like a hero, to stand up to Jotham and Ott and to rescue that girl. It’s taken me all this time to realize that you did.”
Sev frowned. “Did what? I didn’t—”
“Don’t you see? My methods would have only made Jotham and Ott more determined to do whatever they wanted. They’d have sent you away, put someone else as lookout, and then they would have been there when that animage girl turned up, not you. Who knows what might’ve happened.”
“Luck,” Sev said with a half-hearted shrug, unwilling to allow himself to enjoy—or truly trust—Kade’s praise. “Teyke having fun at our expense.”
Kade shook his head. “Fate. Anyanke weaving our threads together.”
A thrill shot through Sev at Kade’s words. He had felt it too. Some indiscernible current always putting them in each other’s paths. Even now, there was a tug deep in Sev’s abdomen, drawing him to Kade.
“I accused you of saving your own neck that day. Maybe you were, in some way, but you saved hers, too—when you didn’t have to. If she’d been found, if they knew you’d tipped her off . . . things would have gone bad for you. Very bad. And the day you tried to run, you didn’t come back for yourself. . . . You came back for me. Just because you do things differently than I’d do them doesn’t mean they’re wrong.”
“So . . . is this a roundabout way of you saying you’re sorry?” Sev asked, mouth quirking up in the corner.
Kade chuckled, the tension lightening between them somewhat. “It’s my way of saying yes.”
“Yes?” Sev asked, confused.
“To your question before, by the fire. Maybe I hated you in the beginning, but that has changed.” Warmth spread from Sev’s chest all the way to his fingertips. “I couldn’t see—didn’t want to see—what Ilithya saw in you. I was jealous, I suppose, of the way you two connected with each other. I’ve spent years of my life trying to be a worthy successor to Ilithya Shadowheart, but that’s not my role to fill anymore. It’s yours.”
Sev swallowed. He’d only just come around to the idea that he belonged with Trix and Kade and the rest of the animages, but being her successor?
“That’s—I’m not—”
“Not yet,” Kade conceded, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face. “But you’ll get there. And I’ll help.”
Sev thought back to the moment Trix first assigned him to pack animal duty. He and Kade hadn’t been getting along, and Sev had thought she was being spiteful, putting them together—or that she wanted him to see all he had in common with the other bondservants. Now he couldn’t help but wonder if this hadn’t been her plan all along. She needed them both—not just now, but later, for the future. If they were going to save the Phoenix Riders, it would require more than just stopping this one attack. It would mean stopping every attack and rebuilding Avalkyra Ashfire’s rebellion from the ground up.
“We’re mirror images of each other—have you noticed?” Kade asked, tilting his head as he studied Sev. “Same age, same size—more or less,” he added, his lips quirking into a half grin. They might be the same height, but Kade definitely outweighed and outmuscled him. “And here we are, in the exact same place, but opposite sides of the looking glass. Soldier and bondservant.”
“We’re not on opposite sides,” Sev protested. “Not anymore.” He needed Kade to see that. He’d thought all the same things about them, their differences and their strange similarities, but Sev wanted to bridge the gap.
Kade nodded, though his face had turned grim again. “I just . . . Well, I don’t want to see you throw your life away trying to prove something to me—to anyone. You . . .” His mouth twisted, as if he was searching for words. “You already proved yourself to me.”
“I did?” Sev asked, fighting down the wild hope that was building up inside him. “How?”
Kade shrugged, a determinedly offhand gesture. “First you came back. Then you stayed.”
Sev’s throat was thick, and he needed a moment to collect himself. “Even if I die, I’m not throwing my life away,” Sev said, rubbing a hand against the back of his neck. “I just want . . .”
His arm dropped, and it felt oddly heavy by his side. Sev went to raise it, to reach for something . . . but he found he lost his courage partway, and it hovered in the air between them.
“I just want to rest easy when I die—whether that’s today, tomorrow, or in a hundred years—knowing that I did the right thing for once in my gods-damned life. That I finally made the right choice. I want to stand with people I’m not ashamed to stand next to. . . . I want to stand with you.”
He couldn’t meet Kade’s eyes, so instead Sev’s focus had landed on the hollow between his collarbones, where his pendant hung. Sev wanted to read it, to know Kade’s sentence and his crime, but the edge of his tunic covered the words. The day was still hot, and sweat glistened on his skin as his throat bobbed up and down in a swallow.
“What I can’t figure out,” Kade began, his voice soft and rich, “is why hating you was easy, but liking you has been . . .”
“Been what?” Sev asked, somewhat breathless at the idea that Kade liked him.
“Difficult,” Kade said, his expression intent. He took a step forward, pushing into Sev’s outstretched hand, causing Sev’s fingers to splay against his chest. They stared at each other, and Sev stepped backward—not a retreat, but a question. An invitation.