“Ugh,” Galo said. “That’s smart. A permanent alliance between Olso and Ruina.” He paused. “I’m sorry, Cas.”
Cas pushed off the wall and cracked a knuckle. “Forget it. We need to decide where we’re going to go. Maybe if we go south, farther into Vallos …” His voice trailed off. He had no idea where to go.
“We need to go back to Lera,” Galo said. “We never intended to stay in Vallos. We were going to wait until you recovered and then return to Lera and build an army in the south. You’re not really going to give up, are you?”
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do! Jovita controls the army and the advisers!”
“You have Violet, which means you have the southern province, if you want it. The people in the south are going to be loyal to her. We can’t let Jovita get to them first.”
Maybe Em would kill Jovita sooner rather than later. He’d actually have a shot at reclaiming his throne with her gone.
Em’s furious face floated through his brain, and he suddenly realized he understood the expression on her face. She was ashamed of him. She always took charge, always acted like a leader, always stood up for her people.
And what did he do? He sat in bed. He wallowed. He offered to give up everything for a girl he knew he couldn’t have.
He sucked in a sharp breath as an idea occurred to him.
A leader acted. A leader took control. A leader seized opportunities.
“What?” Galo asked.
“Em’s going to kill Jovita.”
“Can’t say I’m torn up about that.”
“No… .” Hope swelled in Cas’s chest for the first time in days. “Let’s go back to the fortress.”
“Why?”
“I’m going to kill Jovita first.”
TWENTY-TWO
AREN OPENED HIS eyes, squinting in the orange light flooding the apartment. He scrubbed a hand down his face as his surroundings came into focus.
Iria.
The memory of last night rushed into his brain and he jerked up to a sitting position. She was sitting on the ground next to the window with her knees pulled to her chest. She turned when he moved, concern flitting across her face.
Would it be strange if he ran out the door? He could escape in less than three seconds.
He looked down. He was in his underwear.
He would look pretty ridiculous running to the door in his underwear.
More ridiculous than sitting on the floor while Iria cleaned blood off of him? Probably not.
Iria stood. “How are you feeling?”
Humiliated. Insane. Worried he might have a more tenuous grasp on reality than he’d thought.
He pulled the blankets a little farther up his waist. He’d been in less in front of a girl before, but he’d never felt this exposed.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, tucking her leg beneath her. If he reached out, he could take the hand resting on the mattress.
Had he fallen asleep holding her hand last night?
And he thought he’d reached his embarrassment limit.
She was staring at him. He hadn’t answered her question.
“I’m fine,” he lied. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.” His glanced to where she’d been sitting by the window. “You stayed here all night?”
“It was only a few hours. Sun just came up. And I didn’t think I should leave you.”
He wanted to say thank you. He stared at the blankets instead.
“Do you want to tell me what happened last night?” she asked.
How could he explain what he barely understood himself? “I … feel strange.” What an understatement.
“Strange,” she repeated.
“Olivia’s been teaching me how to use my powers without growing weak. How to detach so it doesn’t affect me. But it’s like … it’s like it makes me detach from myself too.”
“Oh.”
His bloody clothes were in the corner. How many had he killed last night? He didn’t even know. He used to keep track of how many hunters he killed, but now the number would be staggering.
“Maybe you’re not meant to detach,” Iria said. “Maybe you need to feel it.”
“It makes me so weak. And people here need me to fight. I’m the strongest person besides Olivia, and everyone is counting on me.”
“No one is counting on you to kill. Just because it’s what Olivia wants doesn’t make it right.”
Her dark eyes were fixed on his, and he had the sudden urge to pull her against him and hug her. He almost wished she’d climbed into the bed with him last night. He might have put his arms around her and fallen asleep with her head tucked into his neck.
“Maybe you should talk to Em,” she said after a long silence. “Tell her what’s happening.”
“What’s Em going to do? This is my problem. It’s not like Olivia is forcing me into anything.” Saying those words out loud released something horrible inside of him. His hands trembled.
Olivia wasn’t forcing him to do anything.
Not yet, anyway. He wouldn’t put it past her to force him to marry her. He took in a shaky breath. He needed to talk to Em about that. She was the only one who could stop her sister.
“What if you got away for a while?” Iria asked. “I was thinking of joining the mission up north. You could volunteer as one of the Ruined. There’s no way Olivia will come with us, and you can use the time to get your head on straight.”
“I think it might be twisted permanently,” he said dryly.
She put her hand on top of his head and smiled. “It looks all right to me.”
He returned the smile, relief poking a tiny hole through the dread in his chest. “That’s not a bad idea. I’ll ask Em.”
“Good.” She dropped her hand.
“Uh, you’ll go for sure, right? I’d feel more comfortable if you were there. You’re the only warrior I actually trust,” he added hastily.
Pink rose up her neck and to her cheeks. He tried to hide his grin. He was fully aware that he made plenty of girls blush, but it was different coming from Iria. He could still make her blush after seeing him at his worst?
“I’ll be there,” she said.
He reached for her hand almost against his will. He hadn’t decided to touch her, but it was like his body had other ideas.
Her fingers curled around his, soft and warm. Relief coursed through his bones, like the mere act of holding her hand was going to cure him of everything.
“Thanks, Iria,” he said quietly.
“Anytime.”
He released her hand, simply because it would be weird to keep it much longer. She climbed off the bed, but her gaze lingered on him.
“Your Ruined marks are coming back,” she said.
He stared at the thin white lines that intersected the scars on his chest. They didn’t look the same as they used to. They were lumpy and mangled from his burned flesh.
“Yeah. I have a lot of new ones.”
“Good. I didn’t like that they took that away from you too.”
He smiled at her and wished she hadn’t gotten off the bed. His fingers twitched to reach for her again.