The words punched into my chest. “No.”
“It was all behind closed doors,” he whispered. “But you could see it in public, how hollow she was. She’d try to hide her injuries, but those closest could see them. It happened more often when I was young. I think my father always feared I would try to keep Olmdere for myself once I married Briar instead of joining it with Damrienn. He worried I’d defect from the Silver Wolf pack and start my own.” His shoulders dropped. “My father claimed she was sick with ailments. He’d justify it in different ways: why she wasn’t places or didn’t run with the pack. But the rest of the pack whispered about it.” Softly—so softly—“And I knew.”
“How did she die?” My voice cracked.
“She jumped out her window.” Grae’s voice was heartbreakingly even. “At least, that’s the rumor I’d heard. I hadn’t been there that day and the means of death were never divulged, out of respect to the pack, they said. But if it had been anything else, they would’ve said as much.”
“Out of respect to the pack,” I said, shaking my head. “His hand might’ve not been on her back, but the king pushed her out that window with his many years of actions.”
All the blood drained from my limbs, feeling weightless at the horror of that realization. All these years, I had no clue. My lungs seized, every breath burning up my throat.
“I think she did it to protect me,” he whispered. “So my father couldn’t use her to hurt me anymore.”
My body was covered in pinpricks as my eyes welled. A sharp grief coursed through me.
“By the time I was eight or nine, I was paralyzed by it.” He let out a breath through his teeth. “Afraid each of my actions would lead back to my mother in some way.”
“Gods.” I leaned forward, burying my face in my hands.
I’d shouted at him for not standing up to his father, even called him a coward, when his whole life the people he loved got hurt by it. Defending oneself was a privilege, and Grae was held hostage by his father’s power. In the temple, he even said he was afraid of what his father might do . . . but I had never suspected he meant this.
“I was thirteen when she died and my father sent me off to school in Valta to keep me under heel,” he whispered. “He probably couldn’t think of any other way to keep me in line. But I knew how he could keep me in line still, who he could hurt to do it.”
His eyes flickered toward me and I swallowed the thick knot in my throat.
“When I asked why you hadn’t visited,” I whispered, “you said you were suspicious of something and you were afraid of what would happen if your suspicions were true.”
All this time. He’d been trying to protect Briar and me by keeping away, afraid we’d take the place of his mother. Is that why he was willing to go through with marrying Briar? My stomach soured. Was that all part of his act to protect us from his father’s wrath?
“It’s a horrible feeling, watching the life slowly fade from someone’s eyes.” His deep voice wobbled. “A terrible, helpless feeling . . . and I just stood there.”
“You were a child, Grae,” I whispered, turning toward the sound of the emotion finally lifting to the surface of his words. “What happened to her is not your fault.”
“My father worked very hard to make me believe otherwise.” He sniffed and cleared his throat. “It wasn’t until she was gone that I realized no matter how obedient I became, no matter how perfect, he’d find a flaw to punish me for.”
“You should’ve never been made to feel like you had to be perfect,” I said, sweeping a hand down his back. “You should’ve been loved as you are. I’m sorry he made you think your only value was in what power you gave to him.”
“He wanted me to be strong, but not too strong. Smart, but not smarter than him.” Grae’s hands trembled. “And when I was too much or too little, he’d hurt her as if my failings were her fault.”
The dam broke, tears spilling down his cheeks. At the first streak of tears, I moved, dropping to my knees in the snow and wrapping my arms around him. He dropped his head onto my shoulder as I held him, pressing my cool cheek into his warm neck.
“I should’ve done more to save her.” His pained words were muffled in the fabric of my cloak. His fingers clung to me like he was falling from a cliff; I held him tighter, tunneling deep into a place of calm—the anchor in his storm.
“There’s nothing you could’ve done, Grae,” I whispered as his fingertips pressed in tighter. “Don’t torture yourself. She wouldn’t have wanted that for you.”
Tears burned down my cheeks as I absorbed his sorrow, feeling it as keenly as my own. My knees soaked in melted snow and I didn’t budge. I would freeze into the ice and not let him go. I’d weather any storm to ease that festering pain.
“The scars on your back . . . ,” I murmured against his skin. “That was him, wasn’t it?”
“A lesson.” Grae’s voice broke. “He wouldn’t let me shift or heal. A reminder of who was truly in charge.”
“He feared your power even then,” I said, angry and confident at this idea. “Afraid of all you could be if he lifted you up, so instead he pushed you down. He was neither a good father nor a good king.”
I slid one hand to his neck, holding him against my shoulder.
“When I saw Hemming . . . when he said my father would be lenient with you . . .” Grae took a shuddering breath. “I tried. I was willing to make terrible choices to keep you safe. But when he said that, I knew you could never be a part of his pack. I knew I finally had a chance to protect the one I loved.”
He’d feared for me. It made all his actions suddenly so clear—his silence, his avoidance, even that amber necklace. I’d never realized it was his father he was trying to protect me from, rather than protect himself. No wonder he didn’t speak up that day in King Nero’s office. The more attached he seemed to me, the more danger he put me in.
That fear and pain was a living thing brimming to the surface now.
I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead to his, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “You don’t ever need to fear what your father will do to me,” I promised him, wiping my thumbs across his cheeks. “You said it yourself. I am strong.”
“Yes,” he said with a halfhearted smile. “But the people I care about the deepest are always in the most danger, and I would burn Damrienn to the ground before watching that life fade from your eyes.” I stared deeply into his red-rimmed eyes, so raw, so vulnerable. “I can’t—”
He choked on his words, and I held his face up, making him look at me.