Yrene made sure to be on time the next morning. She hadn’t sent word ahead, but she was willing to gamble that Lord Westfall and the new captain would be waiting at ten. Though from the glares he threw her way last night, she wondered if he doubted she’d return at all.
Let him think what he wanted.
She debated waiting until eleven, since Hasar and Renia had dragged her out drinkingโor rather, Yrene had watched them drink, sipping at her own glass of wineโand she hadn’t crawled into her room in the Torre until nearly two. Hasar had offered her a suite at the palace for the night, but given the fact that they’d narrowly escaped Kashin joining them at the quiet, elegant taproom in the bustling Rose Quarter, Yrene was not inclined to risk running into him again.
Honestly, whenever the khagan ordered his children back to their various outposts, it would not be soon enough. They’d lingered after Tumelun’s deathโwhich Hasar had still refused to even mention. Yrene had barely known the youngest princess, the girl having spent most of her time with Kashin among the Darghan on the steppes and the walled cities scattered around them. But in those initial days after Tumelun’s body had been found, after Hafiza herself had confirmed that the girl had jumped from the balcony, Yrene had the urge to seek out Kashin. To offer her sympathies, yes, but also to just see how he was doing.
Yrene knew him well enough to understand that despite the easy, unruffled manner he presented to the world, the disciplined soldier who obeyed his father’s every order and fearlessly commanded his terrestrial armies โฆ beneath that smiling face lay a churning sea of grief. Wondering what he could have done differently.
Things had indeed turned awkward and awful between Yrene and Kashin, but โฆ she still cared. Yet she had not reached out to him. Had not wanted to open that door she’d spent months trying to shut.
She’d hated herself for it, thought about it at least once a day. Especially when she spied the white banners flapping throughout the city, the palace. At dinner last night, she’d done her best not to crumple up with shame as she ignored him, suffered through his praise, the pride still in his words when he spoke of her.
Fool, Eretia had called her more than once, after Yrene had confessed during a particularly grueling healing what had occurred on the steppes last winter. Yrene knew it was trueโbut she โฆ well, she had other plans for herself. Dreams she would not, could not, defer or yield entirely. So once Kashin, once the other royals, returned to their ruling posts โฆ it would be easier again. Better.
She only wished Lord Westfall’s own return to his hateful kingdom didn’t rely so heavily upon her assistance.
Biting back a scowl, Yrene squared her shoulders and knocked on the suite doors, the lovely-faced servant answering before the sound had even finished echoing in the hall.
There were so many of them in the palace that Yrene had learned the names of just a few, but she’d seen this one before, had marked her beauty. Enough that Yrene nodded in recognition and strode in.
Servants were paid handsomely, and treated well enough that competition was fierce to land a spot in the palaceโespecially when positions tended to remain within families, and any openings went to
those within them. The khagan and his court treated their servants as people, with rights and laws to protect them.
Unlike Adarlan, where so many lived and died in shackles. Unlike the enslaved in Calaculla and Endovier, never allowed to see the sun or breathe fresh air, entire families torn asunder.
She had heard of the massacres in the mines this spring. The butchering. It was enough that any neutral expression vanished from her face by the time she reached the lavish sitting room. She didn’t know what their business was with the khagan, but he certainly looked after his guests.
Lord Westfall and the young captain were sitting precisely where they’d been the previous morning. Neither looked happy.
Indeed, neither was really glancing at the other.
Well, at least none of them would bother to pretend to be pleasant today.
The lord was already sizing Yrene up, no doubt marking the blue dress she’d worn yesterday, the same shoes.
Yrene owned four dresses, the purple one she’d worn to dinner last night being the finest. Hasar had always promised to procure finer clothes for her to wear, but the princess never remembered the next day. Not that Yrene particularly cared. If she received the clothes, she’d feel obligated to visit the palace more than she already did, and โฆ Yes, there were some lonely nights when she wondered what the hell she was thinking by pushing away Kashin, when she reminded herself that most girls in the world would kill and claw their way to an open palace invitation, but she would not stay here for much longer. There was no point.
โGood morning,โ said the new captainโNesryn Faliq.
The woman seemed more focused. Settled. And yet this new tension between her and Lord Westfall โฆ
Not her business. Only if it interfered with her healing.
โI spoke to my superior.โ A lie, though she technically had spoken to Hafiza.
โAnd?โ
Not one word from the lord so far. Shadows were smudged beneath his brown eyes, his tan skin paler than yesterday. If he was surprised she’d returned, he revealed nothing.
Yrene scooped the upper portions of her hair and tied it back with a small wooden comb, leaving the bottom half down. Her preferred style for working. โAnd I should like to get you walking again, Lord Westfall.โ
No emotion flickered in the lord’s eyes. Nesryn, however, loosed a shuddering breath and leaned back against the deep cushions of the golden sofa. โHow likely is it that you will succeed?โ
โI have healed spinal injuries before. Though it was a rider who took a bad fall off his horseโnot a wound in battle. Certainly not one from magic. I shall do my best, but I make no guarantees.โ
Lord Westfall said nothing, didn’t so much as shift in his chair.
Say something, she demanded, meeting his cold and weary stare.
His eyes slid to her throat, to the scar she had not let Eretia heal when she’d offered last year.
โWill it be hours every day that you work on him?โ Nesryn’s words were steady, almost flat, and yet โฆ The woman was not a creature who took well to a cage. Even a gilded one such as this.
โI would recommend,โ Yrene said to Nesryn over a shoulder, โthat if you have other duties or tasks to attend to, Captain, these hours would be a good time for that. I shall send word if you are needed.โ
โWhat about moving him around?โ The lord’s eyes flashed at that.
And though Yrene was predisposed to chuck them both to the ruks, she noted the lord’s simmering outrage and self-loathing at the words and found herself saying, โI can handle most of it, but I believe Lord Westfall is more than capable of transporting himself.โ
Something like wary gratitude shot across his face. But he just said to Nesryn, โAnd I can ask my own damn questions.โ
Guilt flashed across Nesryn’s face, even as she stiffened. But she nodded, biting her lip, before she murmured to Chaol, โI had some invitations yesterday.โ Understanding lit his eyes. โI plan to see about them.โ
Smartโnot to speak too clearly of her movements. Chaol nodded gravely. โSend a message this time.โ
Yrene had noted his worry at dinner last night when the captain had not appeared. A man unused to having the people he cared for out of his sight, and now limited in how he might look for them himself. She tucked away the information for later.
Nesryn bid her farewells, perhaps more tersely to the lord, and then was gone.
Yrene waited until she heard the door shut. โShe was wise to not speak aloud of her plans.โ
โWhy.โ
His first words to Yrene so far.
She jerked her chin toward the open doors to the foyer. โThe walls have ears and mouths. And all the servants are paid by the khagan’s children. Or viziers.โ
โI thought the khagan paid them all.โ
โOh, he does,โ Yrene said, going to the small satchel she’d left by the door. โBut his children and viziers buy the servants’ loyalty through other means. Favors and comforts and status in exchange for information. I’d be careful with whoever was assigned to you.โ
Docile as the servant girl who’d let Yrene in might seem, she knew even the smallest snakes could contain the most lethal venom.
โDo you know who โฆ owns them?โ He said that wordโownsโas if it tasted foul.
Yrene said simply, โNo.โ She rooted through the satchel, pulling out twin vials of amber liquid, a stub of white chalk, and some towels. He followed every movement. โDo you own any slaves in Adarlan?โ She kept the question mild, uninterested. Idle chatter while she readied.
โNo. Never.โ
She set a black leather journal upon the table before lifting a brow. โNot one?โ
โI believe in paying people for their work, as you do here. And I believe in a human being’s intrinsic right to freedom.โ
โI’m surprised your king let you live if that is how you feel.โ โI kept such opinions to myself.โ
โA wiser move. Better to save your hide through silence than speaking for the thousands enslaved.โ
He went still at that. โThe labor camps and slave trade have been shut down. It was one of the first decrees that my king made. I was there with him when he drafted the document.โ
โNew decrees for a new era, I suppose?โ The words were sharper than the set of knives she carried with herโfor surgery, for scraping away rotting flesh.
He held her gaze unflinchingly. โDorian Havilliard is not his father. It was him I served these years.โ
โAnd yet you were the former king’s honored Captain of the Guard. I’m surprised the khagan’s children aren’t clamoring to hear your secrets about how you played both so well.โ
His hands clenched on the arms of the chair. โThere are choices in my past,โ he said tightly, โthat I have come to regret. But I can only move on
โand attempt to fix them. Fight to make sure they do not occur again.โ He jerked his chin toward the supplies she’d set down. โWhich I cannot do while in this chair.โ
โYou certainly could do such things from that chair,โ she said tartly, and meant it. He didn’t respond. Fine. If he did not wish to talk about this โฆ she certainly didn’t wish to, either. Yrene jerked her chin toward the long, deep golden sofa. โGet on that. Shirt off and facedown.โ
โWhy not the bed?โ
โCaptain Faliq was here yesterday. I would not enter your bedroom without her present.โ
โShe is not my โฆโ He trailed off. โIt would not be an issue.โ โAnd yet you saw last night how it might present an issue for me.โ โWithโโ
โYes.โ She cut him off with a sharp look toward the door. โThe couch will do.โ
She had seen the look Kashin had given the captain at dinner. She’d wanted to slide off her chair and hide beneath the table.
โYou have no interest where that is concerned?โ he said, wheeling himself the few feet to the couch, then unbuttoning his jacket.
โI have no plans to seek such a life for myself.โ Not when the risks were so high.
Execution of herself, her husband, and their children if Kashin should challenge the new khagan, if he should stake a claim on the throne. Being rendered infertile by Hafiza at bestโonce the new khagan had produced enough heirs to ensure the continuation of the bloodline.
Kashin had waved away those concerns that night on the steppes, had refused to understand the insurmountable wall they would always present.
But Chaol nodded, likely well aware of the costs of wedding into the bloodline if your spouse was not the Heir selected. As Kashin would
never beโnot with Sartaq, Arghun, or Hasar likely to be chosen.
Yrene added before Chaol could inquire further, โAnd it is none of your concern.โ
He looked her over slowly. Not in the way that men sometimes did, that Kashin did, but โฆ as if he was sizing up an opponent.
Yrene crossed her arms, distributing her weight evenly between her feet, just as she had been taught and now instructed others to do. A steady, defensive stance. Ready to take on anyone.
Even lords from Adarlan. He seemed to note that stance, and his jaw clenched.
โShirt,โ she repeated.
With a simmering glare, he reached over his head and shucked off his shirt, setting it neatly atop where he’d folded his jacket over the rolled arm of the sofa. Then he removed his boots and socks with swift, brutal tugs.
โPants this time,โ she told him. โLeave the undershorts.โ His hands went to his belt, and hesitated.
He could not remove the pants without some degree of helpโat least in the chair.
She didn’t let a flicker of pity show in her face as she waved a hand toward the couch. โGet on, and I’ll unclothe you myself.โ
He hesitated again. Yrene put her hands on her hips. โWhile I wish I could say you were my sole patient today,โ she lied, โI do have other appointments to keep. The couch, if you will.โ
A muscle beat in his jaw, but he braced one hand on the couch, another on the edge of the chair, and lifted himself.
The strength in the movement alone was worthy of some admiration.
So easily, the muscles in his arms and back and chest hoisted him upward and over. As if he’d been doing it his entire life.
โYou’ve kept up your exercising since โฆ how long has it been since the injury?โ
โIt happened on Midsummer.โ His voice was flatโhollow as he lifted his legs up onto the couch with him, grunting at the weight. โAnd yes. I was not idle before it happened, and I don’t see the point of being so now.โ
This man was stoneโrock. The injury had cracked him a bit, but not sundered him. She wondered if he knew it.
โGood,โ she simply said. โExercisingโboth your upper body and
your legsโwill be a vital part of this.โ
He peered at his legs as those faint spasms rocked them. โExercising my legs?โ
โI will explain in a moment,โ she said, motioning him to turn over. He obeyed with another reproachful glare, but set himself facedown.
Yrene took a few breaths to survey the length of him. He was large enough that he nearly took up the entire couch. Well over six feet. If he stood again, he’d tower over her.
She strode to his feet and tugged his pants down in short, perfunctory bursts. His undershorts hid enough, though she could certainly see the shape of his firm backside through the thin material. But his thighs โฆ She’d felt the muscle still in them yesterday, but studying them now โฆ
They were starting to atrophy. They already lacked the healthy vitality of the rest of him, the rippling muscle beneath that tan skin seeming looserโthinner.
She laid a hand on the back of one thigh, feeling the muscle beneath the crisp hairs.
Her magic seeped from her skin into his, searching and sweeping through blood and bone.
Yesโthe disuse was beginning to wear on him.
Yrene withdrew her hand and found him watching, hand angled on the throw pillow he’d dragged beneath his chin. โThey’re breaking down, aren’t they?โ
She kept her face set in a mask of stone. โAtrophied limbs may regain their full strength. But yes. We shall have to focus on ways to keep them as strong as we can, to exercise them throughout this process, so that when you standโโshe made sure he heard the slight emphasis on when
โโyou will have as much support as possible in your legs.โ โSo it will not just be healing, but training as well.โ
โYou said you liked to be kept active. There are many exercises we can do with a spinal injury that will get blood and strength flowing to your legs, which will aid in the healing process. I will oversee you.โ
She avoided the alternative wordsโhelp you.
Lord Chaol Westfall was not a man who desired help from people.
From anyone.
She took a few steps up the length of his body, to peer at his spine. At that pale, strange mark just beneath his nape. At that first prominent knob of his spine.
Even now, the invisible power that swirled along her palms seemed to recoil into her.
โWhat manner of magic gave that to you?โ โDoes it matter?โ
Yrene hovered her hand over it, but did not let her magic brush it. She ground her teeth. โIt would help me to know what havoc it might have wreaked upon your nerves and bones.โ
He didn’t answer. Typical Adarlanian bullishness. Yrene pushed, โWas it fireโโ
โNot fire.โ
A magic-given injury. It had to have happened โฆ Midsummer, he’d said. The day rumors claimed that magic had returned to the northern
continent. That it had been freed by Aelin Galathynius.
โWere you fighting against the magic-wielders who returned that day?โ
โI was not.โ Clipped, sharp words.
And she looked into his eyesโhis hard stare. Really looked.
Whatever had occurred, it had been horrible. Enough to leave such shadows and reticence.
She had healed people who’d endured horrors. Who could not reply to the questions she asked. And he might have served that butcher, but โฆ Yrene tried not to grimace as she realized what lay ahead, what Hafiza had likely guessed at before assigning her to him: healers often did not just repair wounds, but also the trauma that went along with them. Not through magic, but โฆ talking. Walking alongside the patient as they traveled those hard, dark paths.
And to do so with him โฆ Yrene shoved the thought aside. Later.
She’d think of it later.
Closing her eyes, Yrene unspooled her magic into a gentle, probing thread, and laid a palm on that splattered star atop his spine.
The cold slammed into her, spikes of it firing through her blood and bones.
Yrene reeled back as if she’d been given a physical blow.
Cold and dark and anger and agonyโ
She clenched her jaw, fighting past this echo in the bone, sending that thread-thin probe of power a little farther into the dark.
The pain would have been unbearable when it hit him.
Yrene pushed back against the coldโthe cold and the lack and the oily, unworldly wrongness of it.
No magic of this world, some part of her whispered. Nothing that was natural or good. Nothing she knew, nothing she had ever dealt with.
Her magic screamed to draw back that probe, move awayโ
โYrene.โ His words were far away while the wind and blackness and
emptiness of it roared around herโ
And then that echo of nothingness โฆ it seemed to awaken.
Cold filled her, burned along her limbs, creeping wider, encircling. Yrene flung out her magic in a blind flare, the light pure as sea-foam. The blackness retreated, a spider scuttling into a shadowed corner.
Just enoughโjust enough that she yanked back her hand, yanked back
herself, and found Chaol gaping at her.
Her hands trembled as she gazed down at them. As she gazed at that splotch of paleness on his tan skin. That presence โฆ She coiled her magic deep within herself, willing it to warm her own bones and blood, to steady herself. Even as she steadied it, tooโsome internal, invisible hand stroking her power, soothing it.
Yrene rasped, โTell me what that is.โ For she had seen or felt or learned nothing like that.
โIs it inside me?โ That was fearโgenuine fear in his eyes.
Oh, he knew. Knew what manner of power had dealt this wound, what might be lurking within it. Knew enough about it to be afraid. If such a power existed in Adarlan โฆ
Yrene swallowed. โI think โฆ I think it’s onlyโonly the echo of something bigger. Like a tattoo or a brand. It is not living, and yet โฆโ She flexed her fingers. If a mere probing of the darkness with her magic had triggered such a response, then a full-on onslaught โฆ โTell me what that is. If I am going to be dealing with โฆ with that, I need to know. Everything you can tell me.โ
โI can’t.โ
Yrene opened her mouth. But the lord flicked his gaze toward the open door. Her warning to him silently echoed. โThen we shall try to work around it,โ she declared. โSit up. I want to inspect your neck.โ
He obeyed, and she observed him while his heavily muscled abdomen eased him upright, then he carefully swung his feet and legs to the floor. Good. That he had not just this much mobility, but the steady, calm patience to work with his body โฆ Good.
Yrene kept that to herself while she strode on still-wobbly knees to the desk where she’d left the vials of amber fluidโmassage oils pressed from rosemary and lavender from estates just beyond Antica’s walls, and eucalyptus from the far south.
She selected the eucalyptus, the crisp, smothering scent coiling around her as she pried off the stopper from the vial and took up a place beside him on the couch. Soothing, that scent. For both of them.
Seated together on that couch, he indeed towered over herโthe muscled mass of him enough to make her understand why he’d been so adept at his position. Being perched beside him was different, somehow, than standing above him, touching him. Sitting beside a Lord of Adarlan
โฆ
Yrene didn’t let the thought settle as she pooled a small amount of the oil into her palm and rubbed her hands together to warm it. He inhaled deeply, as if taking the scent into his lungs, and Yrene didn’t bother to speak as she laid her hands upon his nape.
Broad, sweeping strokes around and down the broad column of his neck. Over his shoulders.
He let out a deep groan as she passed over a knot between his neck and shoulder, the sound of it reverberating into her palms, then stiffened. โSorry.โ
She ignored the apology, digging her thumbs into the area. Another noise rumbled out of him. Perhaps it made her cruel not to comment on his slight embarrassment, not to dismiss it. But Yrene just leaned in, sliding her palms down his back, giving a wide berth to that horrid mark.
She reined her magic in tightly, not letting her power brush up against it again.
โTell me what you know,โ she murmured in his ear, her cheek close enough to scrape the faint stubble coating his jaw. โNow.โ
He waited a moment, listening for anyone nearby. And as Yrene’s hands stroked over his neck, kneading muscles that were knotted enough to make her cringe, Lord Westfall began whispering.
To Yrene Towers’s credit, her hands did not falter once while Chaol murmured in her ear about horrors even a dark god could not conjure.
Wyrdgates and Wyrdstone and Wyrdhounds. The Valg and Erawan and his princes and collars. Even to him, it sounded no more than a bedtime story, something his mother might have once whispered during those long winter nights in Anielle, the wild winds howling around the stone keep.
He did not tell her of the keys. Of the king who had been enslaved for two decades. Of Dorian’s own enslavement. He did not tell her who had attacked him, or Perrington’s true identity. Only the power the Valg wielded, the threat they posed. That they sided with Perrington.
โSo thisโagent of these โฆ demons. It was his power that hit you here,โ Yrene mused in a near-whisper, hand hovering over the spot on his spine. She didn’t dare touch it, had avoided that area completely while she’d massaged him, as if dreading contact with that dark echo again. She indeed now moved her hand over to his left shoulder and resumed her glorious kneading. He barely kept in his groan at the tension she eased from his aching back and shoulders, his upper arms, his neck and lower head.
He hadn’t known how knotted they wereโhow hard he’d worked himself in training.
โYes,โ he said at last, his voice still low. โIt meant to kill me, but โฆ I was spared.โ
โBy what?โ The fear had long faded from her voice; no tremor lingered in her hands. But little warmth had replaced them, either.
Chaol angled his head, letting her work a muscle so tight it had him grinding his teeth. โA talisman that guarded me against such evilโand a stroke of luck.โ Of mercy, from a king who had tried to pull that final punch. Not just as a kindness to him, but to Dorian.
Yrene’s miraculous hands stilled. She pulled back, searching his face. โAelin Galathynius destroyed the glass castle. That was why she did itโ why she took Rifthold, too. To defeat them?โ
And where were you? was her unspoken demand.
โYes.โ And he found himself adding into her ear, his words little more than a rumble, โShe, Nesryn, and I worked together. With many others.โ
Who he had not heard from, had no idea where they were. Off fighting, scrambling to save their lands, their future, while he was here. Unable to so much as even get a private audience with a prince, let alone the khagan.
Yrene considered. โThose are the horrors allying with Perrington,โ she said softly. โWhat the armies will be fighting.โ
Fear returned to blanch her face, but he offered what truth he could. โYes.โ
โAnd youโyou will be fighting them?โ
He gave her a bitter smile. โIf you and I can figure this out.โ If you can do the impossible.
But she did not return the amusement. Yrene only scooted back on the sofa, assessing him, wary and distant. For a moment, he thought she’d say something, ask him something, but she only shook her head. โI have much to look into. Before I dare go any further.โ She gestured to his back, and he realized that he was still sitting in his undershorts.
He bit down on the urge to reach for his clothes. โIs there a riskโto you?โ If there wasโ
โI don’t know. I โฆ I truly have never encountered anything like this before. I should like to look into it, before I begin treating you and compose an exercise regimen. I need to do some research in the Torre library tonight.โ
โOf course.โ If this damned injury got them both hurt in the process, he’d refuse. He didn’t know what the hell he’d do, but he’d refuse to let her touch him. And for the risk, the effort โฆ โYou never mentioned your fee. For your help.โ
It had to be exorbitant. If they’d sent their best, if she had such skillโ Yrene’s brows furrowed. โIf you are so inclined, any donation may be made to help the upkeep of the Torre and its staff, but there is no price,
no expectation.โ โWhy?โ
Her hand slid into her pocket as she rose. โI was given this gift by Silba. It is not right to charge for what was granted for free.โ
SilbaโGoddess of Healing.
He had known one other young woman who was gods-blessed. No wonder they both possessed such unbanked fire in their eyes.
Yrene took her vial of that lovely-smelling oil and began packing up her bag.
โWhy did you decide to come back to help me?โ
Yrene paused, her slim body going rigid. Then she turned to him.
A wind drifted in from the garden, blowing the strands of her hair, still half-up, over her chest and shoulder. โI thought you and Captain Faliq would use my refusal against me one day.โ
โWe don’t plan to live here forever.โ No matter what else she’d implied.
Yrene shrugged. โNeither do I.โ
She packed up the rest of her bag and headed for the door.
He stopped her with his next question. โYou plan to return?โ To Fenharrow? To hell?
Yrene looked to the door, to the servants listening, waiting, in the foyer beyond. โYes.โ
She wished not just to return to Fenharrow, but also to help in the war. For in this war healers would be needed. Desperately. No wonder she had paled at the horrors he had whispered into her ear. Not only for what they would face, but what might come to kill her, too.
And though her face remained wan, as she noted his raised brows, she added, โIt is the right thing to do. With all I have been grantedโall the kindness thrown my way.โ
He debated warning her to stay, to remain here, safe and protected. But he noted the wariness in her eyes as she awaited his answer. Others, he realized, had likely already cautioned against her leaving. Perhaps made her doubt herself, just a bit.
So Chaol instead said, โCaptain Faliq and I are not the sort of people who would hold a grudge against youโtry to punish you for it.โ
โYou served a man who did such things.โ And likely acted on his behalf.
โWould you believe me if I told you that he left his dirty work to others beyond my command, and I was often not told?โ
Her expression told him enough. She reached for the doorknob.
โI knew,โ he said quietly. โThat he had done and was doing unspeakable things. I knew that forces had tried to fight against him when I was a boy, and he had smashed them to bits. Iโto become captain, I had to yield certain โฆ privileges. Assets. I did so willingly, because my focus was on protecting the future. On Dorian. Even as boys, I knew he was not his father’s son. I knew a better future lay with him, if I could make sure Dorian lived long enough. If he not only lived, but
also survivedโemotionally. If he had an ally, a true friend, in that court of vipers. Neither of us was old enough, strong enough to challenge his father. We saw what happened to those who whispered of rebellion. I knew that if I, if he set one foot out of line, his father would kill him, heir or no. So I craved the stability, the safety of the status quo.โ
Yrene’s face had not altered, not softened or hardened. โWhat happened?โ
He reached for his shirt at last. Fitting, he thought, that he’d laid some part of himself bare while sitting here mostly naked. โWe met someone. Who set us all down a path I fought against until it cost me and others much. Too much. So you may look at me with resentment, Yrene Towers, and I will not blame you for it. But believe me when I say that there is no one in Erilea who loathes me more than I do myself.โ
โFor the path you found yourself forced down?โ
He slung his shirt over his head and reached for his pants. โFor fighting that path to begin withโfor the mistakes I made in doing so.โ
โAnd what path do you walk now? How shall the Hand of Adarlan shape its future?โ
No one had asked him. Not even Dorian.
โI am still learningโstill โฆ deciding,โ he admitted. โBut it begins with wiping Perrington and the Valg from our homeland.โ
She caught the wordโour. She chewed on her lip, as if tasting it in her mouth. โWhat happened on Midsummer, exactly?โ He’d been vague. Had not told her of the attack, the days and months leading to it, the aftermath.
That chamber flashed in his mindโa head rolling across the marble, Dorian screaming. Blending with another moment, of Dorian standing beside his father, face cold as death and crueler than any level of Hellas’s realm. โI told you what happened,โ he simply said.
Yrene studied him, toying with the strap of her heavy leather satchel. โFacing the emotional consequences of your injury will be a part of this process.โ
โI don’t need to face anything. I know what happened before, during, and after.โ
Yrene stood perfectly still, those too-old eyes utterly unfazed. โWe’ll see about that.โ
The challenge hanging in the air between them, dread pooling in his stomach, the words curdled in Chaol’s mouth as she turned on her heel and left.