If he came there that night for me, why wouldn’t he kill me?
That would be the logical choice. I was a danger to be mitigated. A wound to be cauterized. He had enemies. He had power to protect—power threatened by no one so much as it was threatened by me.
Did he go there that night intending to identify a body, or make sure he left one behind if I was still alive?
If so... why did he change his mind?
“I can’t answer that, Oraya,” Alya said softly. “I’m afraid no one will ever be able to.”
The truth. But such an agonizing one.
“I thought you were dead,” she went on, “for a long time. He kept you very quiet for the first few years. But then when you got a little older, people began to talk about you. The king’s human daughter. I knew it had to be you. Ever since then, I’ve been following you. During the Kejari I had friends in Sivrinaj send me updates every trial. And then these last few months...”
She let out a long, slow breath. Her hand fell over mine. “I never thought I would see you again,” she choked out, the emotion in that one sentence overwhelming, like it all poured forth at once.
Me neither, I wanted to say, but I couldn’t even make myself form words.
“Your mother loved you,” she said. “I hope you never doubted that, no matter what he might have told you. And so did the rest of us. Your siblings. Your stepfather. You were—are—so fiercely, fiercely loved. I always hoped that you felt that wherever you were, even if we couldn’t tell you it directly.”
And this—this was the thing that infuriated me the most. Because I didn’t know. I knew that I was loved by Vincent, and Vincent alone. But he’d erased everyone else. Let me believe that I was alone in this world.
He never deprived me of food or shelter or safety. But he deprived me of that, and it felt almost as horrific.
We sat there in silence for too long, and then Alya rose, that momentary wave of emotion replaced with stoic calm. She went to the dresser, opening the top drawer and rummaging through it. Then she turned back to me, hands cupped.
“She would want you to have this.” She dropped a little glittering coil into my outstretched palm—a chain of silver, small black stones interspersed down its length.
“I noticed the ring,” she added, nodding to my little finger. “I’d never seen the necklace before, though. I didn’t know it was a full set.”
It was, indeed, a full set—my necklace, my ring, and now, the bracelet, the onyx stones perfect mates to each other.
My eyes burned. I closed my hand, tight, relishing the press of the stones against my palm, as if I could still feel my mother’s touch on them if I tried hard enough.
“Thank you,” I murmured.
Alya nodded, hands clasped before her, looking a little awkward. She struck me as someone who was uncomfortable with emotion—maybe a family trait, because I was oddly relieved when she said, “I should check on dinner,” and left us alone.
Raihn didn’t say anything, and I was grateful for it, because I wasn’t ready to speak. Instead, he silently sat at the edge of my bed, arm folding around me, offering me an embrace if I wanted it.
And Mother, I wanted it. I let myself slide into his arms with so little hesitation, I would have been ashamed of myself a month ago. But Goddess, how nice that touch felt, stable and secure and solid. Safety, even when nothing about this world—past or future—was safe right now.
I let my head fall against his shoulder. Let my eyelashes flutter closed, as I breathed in his scent deep. Sweat and the sky and the desert.
The former maybe a bit stronger than the latter.
I said against his skin, “You haven’t bathed since you’ve gotten here, have you?”
He let out a snort. “Ix’s tits, princess. What a charmer you are.”
“I’m in your armpit. I can’t not notice.”
“I had more important things to worry about than bathing. Besides, I hear some women find a natural musk attractive. Try to have that attitude.”
I wasn’t about to confirm it, but I did find it a little attractive. Or at least, strangely comforting.
He asked softly, “You alright?”
Alright. What did that word even mean? By any definition, I thought the answer must be no. I’d almost died. I’d led the people who followed me into a bloodbath. I’d lost my kingdom for the second time.
I pulled away just enough to give Raihn a hard look that said, What the fuck kind of a question is that?
He sighed. “Fine. I earned that.”
I laid my head against his shoulder again. “You’ve talked to the others.”
“A few letters to Vale. Not much. But the mirror survived the attack, so—”
So I could talk to Jesmine. Thank the Goddess for that. I was glad I’d kept it on me.
Except, that wave of relief was followed by one of nausea.
What was I even going to tell her? They needed orders. They were waiting at the rendezvous point, counting the minutes until Simon went after them.
“How many did we lose?” I asked.
Raihn’s slight hesitation told me more than his answer. “They were still counting, the last I heard from them.”
A lot.
Fuck.
He went on, “We could consider a surrender, but—”
Surrender? To a Rishan noble prick and a Bloodborn snake? No. Never.
I scoffed. “Fuck, no. I’d rather die fighting.”
No, I was sick of this. I’d spent a lifetime bowing before my supposed status as a weak human. Fuck if I’d die that way, too.
Raihn chuckled softly. “Glad you see it that way, too.”
“We need to go back.”
Back to Jesmine and Vale. Back to the armies relying on us, and quickly.
His thumb swept over my shoulder. “I’d tell you to rest longer, but I know better.”
“Would you sit around if you were the one stuck here? This is my fight too.”
“It is,” he said, and I wondered if I imagined that he sounded a little proud.
“Besides,” I said, “I don’t know how much more time we have before Simon and Septimus go after them to finish the job. We need to do something before that.”
The mention of Simon’s name conjured a viscerally vivid image—his monstrous form looming over Raihn, looming over me, that mangled collection of steel and teeth nailed into his chest.
Mother, the look in his eyes—
I knew better than anyone that vampires could be monstrous creatures. I’d witnessed the worst of bloodlust, which reduced them to little more than animals. But whatever Simon had become was a far cry from typical vampire brutality. He had turned himself into something that should not exist at all.
Or more accurately, I suspected, Septimus had turned him into such a thing.
And I had the terrible feeling that what Raihn and I had witnessed—power that put both of our Heir magics to shame—was only a fraction of what it was capable of.
I knew that Raihn and I were having these same thoughts, in the silence that followed.
Finally, he said, “Here. Let me put that on for you.”