He slams his lips closed.
“The beginning happened as I said. Samvin Carroter killed my family one by one. I did hide in the shadows as it happened, too overcome by fear to do anything more than watch and be still.” I shut my eyes as those images, forever burned into my memory, try to come to the surface. “He drowned my mother and sisters in that tub. And he knew there was one daughter left. Some of the servants were in the room with us. One, a maid, had a daughter my age. She was there. We’d been playing dress-up earlier that day and switched clothes. She was in my fine dress while I wore servant’s garb.”
I turn the knife in my hand around so I’m gripping the blade instead of the hilt. It’s the only way to keep my muscles from tensing. “She screamed so much louder than my sisters. She tried to say she wasn’t me. She begged for her life. And what did I do? I stayed right where I was. Hiding. I watched as he drowned that little girl in my stead. I let her die for me. I did nothing.” Tears slide down my cheeks silently, and I brush them away with closed fists. The knife I’m holding pinches my skin, and I drop it before I can do myself any damage.
I look back up at Kearan, who is back to his unmoving self. “Now you see. It was one thing to stand by and silently watch as my sisters died. It is as you said. There’s nothing I could have done to save them. I was too small. Too powerless. But the other girl? Sleina? I could have saved her. All I had to do was tell the truth. Reveal my hiding place. I would have died, and she would have lived. Then I would shine in the night sky with my family, and she would have been able to live the life she was meant to lead.”
I feel hollow as that memory finally breaks free. I’ve carried it for so long, never telling a single soul. Threydan stole it from me, but Kearan—I gave it to Kearan.
I swallow down the ache in my throat. “There. You’re set free.”
“Set free?” he asks.
“Yes. This delusion you have that you want anything from me. You don’t have to carry it anymore.”
He blinks. “Why is that?”
“Because I’m not who you thought I was. I may be a lot of things. I’m fierce. I’m talented. I’m smart. I’m capable. But my sins are so much greater than my strengths. They are a shadow that follows me wherever I go. I do my best by serving Alosa and doing good, but I know I can never make up for taking the life of that little girl. The only innocent I ever killed. She is a stain that will never wash free from my hands.”
Kearan moves then; he marches right up to where I sit on the snow-covered log by the fire. He kneels on the ground in front of me, heedless of the cold that must be seeping in through his pants.
“You listen to me, Sorinda Veshtas, and you listen well,” he says. He places his hands on either side of the log where I sit. “You were a child. Children are blameless. Children cannot sin. You were five. You were in shock. You were traumatized by the horrors you had witnessed. You were acting on instinct, driven to mere impulses, no longer in control. You are no more responsible for that little girl’s death than I am. That man? That murdering bastard? He killed her just as he did your family. You did not do any of it.”
How is he still not listening to me? “But I could have stopped it! I could have saved her. I could have, and I chose not to.”
“You could not have stopped any of it. Tell me, did any of the servants make it out alive?”
I shake my head frantically. Though it’s the correct response to his question, I think it might be a response to the way he’s reacting.
“That girl would have died whether you came forward or not. Do you think he would have spared her? Do you think he wouldn’t have killed you both just to be sure he got the right heir? Do you think he wanted any soul in that building alive to tell the tale of what happened? Justice happened because you survived. You lived to make it right.”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is the choice I made.”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“How can it not?” I nigh scream the words before I remember myself. “Look at little Roslyn. She was ready to give her life for me when Threydan came for me. She’s seven, and she was prepared to die. She wanted to save me. You can’t tell me children aren’t capable of making difficult choices.”
Kearan leans forward. “And would you have had her die for you?”
“Never.”
“Your life was not any less important than little Sleina, who died in your stead. You must see that. And is it the right choice for Roslyn to throw her life away like that?”
“You’re trying to talk me into a corner.”
“I’m trying to show you.” He reaches forward, places his large hands on either side of my face, and I go utterly still. “You are worthy of saving. You are worthy of life. You are not that little girl anymore. You have given your life time and time again for this crew. You have risked that precious life a hundred times over for Alosa. For others. You are good. You are capable. You are worthy of love, Sorinda. You are worthy of my love.”
I’m crying again. I hate crying. And Kearan is there to wipe away my tears before I can.
“I expect nothing from you,” he continues. “But do not ask that I stop caring for you because of this sin you think you have committed. It won’t work.”
I am so raw and exposed, yet his words are just what I need to hear. I feel myself leaning into his touch. I place my hands over his as I cry.
Because if the person in front of me can see good within me, then maybe it’s okay for me to see it, too. Maybe every day doesn’t have to feel like I’m making up for past crimes.
Maybe I can just live.
“I’m sorry, Sleina,” I say as I turn my face toward the sky. “I’m so sorry.”
I cry for her. I cry for me. I cry for everything that should have been.
Kearan moves to the log to sit beside me and enfolds me in his arms. It is a touch I have not welcomed in thirteen years. But today I am desperate for it.
Even if I cannot feel the warmth of that touch.
Because I know what it means.
It means someone cares.
And that is what is most important.
Chapter 21
“YOU SHOULDN’T TOUCH ME like this,” I say when I get my tears under control. “He might be watching.”
“To hell with him,” Kearan says.
“He can’t be sent to hell. Only back to sleep.”
“Then I hope he has nightmares of me every night.”
I laugh.
This isn’t natural for me. Not the crying. Not the embracing. But it’s what I need nonetheless. I have never had another soul make me feel so light. I can’t help but want to be physically close to him.