I’ve already felt that kind of peace once. It’s the type that could become addicting if I let it.
It’s not as though I’m someone who stands easily against addictive tendencies, it’s just… “The pain… I know this sounds stupid, but it helps me feel closer to him,” I say, locating the bond in my heart that I sometimes think I can feel—the bloodsharing oath that binds us, even when the Fabric of realms separates us. Sometimes I think it’s my imagination. Other times…
Well, I cling to it regardless.
Kiran shakes his head. Thoughtfulness stretches his lips as he leans against the wall. “It doesn’t sound stupid.”
I nod my head, grateful he doesn’t offer it to me a second time. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to deny the offer twice, and my longing to feel close to Nox isn’t the only thing causing my hesitation to accept kindness from Kiran.
I’m going to betray him, and I’d rather he not waste his time being nice to me.
“Thanks for offering anyway,” I say, though my verbal gratitude means little in the face of what I plan to do.
Still, there’s Az’s theory. That Kiran uses his power over Asha to control her emotions. If that’s true, then I suppose I have nothing to feel guilty about.
“Why do you hide it?” I ask.
Kiran raises a brow.
“Your power over emotions, I mean.”
Kiran settles into the cave wall, closing his eyes as he leans against it. “At first, it was because I feared how my father”—he clears his throat on that word for some reason—“might view it. You don’t have to be all that creative to imagine how he might have used it to torture his enemies.”
I shudder, and my mind can’t help but flash to what Kiran’s touch might do to me, if he ever gets his hands on me after I hand Asha over to Az.
My mouth goes dry. “I can imagine.”
“Once my father was gone, I was old enough to recognize that no one would trust someone who could manipulate their emotions. There would be no chance of diplomacy between myself and the other kingdoms.”
I scoff, and his eyes shoot open.
“What?”
“I mean, you didn’t seem to be too concerned with diplomacy when you decreed you’d kill your bride the morning after your wedding.”
Kiran’s molten eyes glaze over, as if he’s far off. “No, I wasn’t concerned with much else other than dousing my pain with anything that could distract me from it. Though it seems the other rulers didn’t care what I did to my human subjects.”
We let that thought settle uncomfortably between us.
“Do you use it often?”
Kiran shakes his head. “Not intentionally. Though I received no instruction in controlling it, so when my emotions are heightened, it seems to seep out of me, as much as I try to contain it.”
Ah, there it is.
If Kiran’s emotions are heightened with love when he’s near Asha, is it possible he leaks his love into her, causing her to believe she loves him back?
I’m not sure that makes Kiran a villain, but it does reinforce Az’s claim that Asha’s feelings can’t be trusted.
“If you’re so bent on keeping your power a secret,” I ask, “then why did you take away my pain that night?”
Kiran stares at me intently and appears to test his words before he speaks them. I’m used to that, having grown up around the fae. I know what it looks like when they’re scanning their words for possible lies.
Finally, he settles on, “It wasn’t difficult to take pity on you, finding you in that state.”
Something about his words makes me feel naked.
Despite that, there’s something he doesn’t say. A truth he’s had to work around.
I don’t press him, but eventually he must decide it’s worth telling me, because he sits up straighter, swallowing before he continues. “When I murdered Fin’s wife, Ophelia, it was in a bout of rage over the fact she’d ruined my relationship with my brother by offering herself to me. The rage consumed me, so much so that when I think back to that moment, to my fire devouring her, I can’t help but feel that it wasn’t me. Even though logically I know it was. Even though I accept responsibility for my actions, for my loss of control. But, Blaise, I know what it is to look at the aftermath of losing control and think, ‘What have I done? That wasn’t me.’ And even then, knowing what that awful stepmother of yours did to you, I still don’t know half of the pain you’ve endured. But I suppose I know a fraction of it, and even that was almost too much for me to bear. At least, not on my own. I just…I suppose I didn’t want you to have to bear it all by yourself, especially if I could hold onto some of it for you. Even for just a moment.”
A lump swells in my throat at the words that go unsaid between us.
Something cracks within me, a sliver in the fortress I’ve built around my heart.
All of a sudden, I’m conflicted. The urge to bare my soul to him, to admit the betrayal simmering in my heart, taps against the fissure.
Would Kiran help me, if he knew? If I admitted the truth of why I need Asha to open the Rip? That it’s the only force powerful enough to separate Farin from Nox’s body, the only way to free the male I love?
The part of me who is dreading going through with this plan, terrified to sacrifice not only my friends but my soul, aches to tell him. Hope, stoked by our freshly kindled friendship, flickers in my chest, whispering in my ear. You can trust him, it says.
But then I recall finding Kiran in the library, poring over grimoires, searching the depths of the literature on dark magic to find a cure for Asha’s mortality.
And I remember that, as kind as Kiran has been to me, he will always put Asha’s safety first. Of course, he will. It’s only right. She’s his wife, and it would be foolish of him to risk harm coming to her for my sake.
Just like it would be foolish of me to let Nox die for Kiran’s sake.
Which is what will happen if Kiran learns what Az and I have planned.
