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I shrug, leaning against the wall behind me. "I'm not sure. There are still too many unanswered questions. How are the Syrens involved? How could Shan have stepped away and hired a gunman, even supplying him with the gun?"
"So you haven't killed him and gotten your answers that way?" she asks, mirroring my posture.
"No." I don't really have a good reason other than the fact that something isn't right. I need to focus on getting through negotiations and getting Elva the fuck out of here before I can give this flying horse shit the energy it requires.
"Okay. So what now?" Raya knows better than to ask questions I won't answer. She's the perfect person to bounce my ideas off, helping me hear them out loud rather than just in my head.
"Now we get the guests out so we can clean house," I announce.
She leans her head against the wall behind us. "It's that simple, then?"
"What do you mean?"
She looks toward me, raising her brows in disbelief. "So you're just going to send everyone home, including Elva, and then get back to business as usual?"
I close my eyes, not willing to see the pity in hers. She knows it won't be that simple for me. "Yes," I lie anyway.
She laughs. "Kai, give me a break. Just ask her to stay."
I groan. "You don't understand, Raya. What kind of man would I be to ask her to sacrifice her life's work to stay here on a maybe?"
"A maybe?" she scoffs. "What maybe?"
I gesture at myself. "Me. I'm the maybe. I have no reason to believe I could be the type of man to make her happy. I've never even tried to make another person happy. All I've done in my life is cause pain and fear. That's what I'm good at and who I'm always going to be. She deserves a perfect match, and I'm under no impression that it could be me."
"I think you're fooling yourself if you think she wants a perfect match." I can practically hear Raya rolling her eyes. "She just wants an adventure. She seems to like your wickedness, too."
"Ugh, Raya, don't." The last thing I need is Raya bringing up my and Elva's intimacy when I'm trying my hardest not to think about it at all.
"Fine. But you know as well as I do that she doesn't mind the monster hiding under your skin." She pushes herself off the wall. "I think it's pretty clear that she has her own, even if she's not ready to face it yet. Maybe you can help her find it, help her embrace it." With a shrug and a comical salute, she's off to her next responsibility, leaving me alone with her wisdom and even more of a headache than I had before.
Still unwilling to face what she says, I send my attention back to Elva. Sound asleep with the book on her chest and her wild curls drifting across her face, she's as beautiful as I've ever seen her.
Even if I were to admit I care about her, it wouldn't matter. That's not enough to ask her to stay. The only thing that could be enough is something that I can't offer. Can't even think the word. I've no experience with it, not really. Everyone I've ever cared for tried to destroy me, or worse, was destroyed by me.
I can't give her those three words that might be worth changing her path for. I'll never be that man. So I'll do the right thing and let her go, let her find someone who can. And in the meantime, I'll enjoy every second I can of watching her.
Twenty One
Elva
Someone is calling my name.
No, they're singing it.
I hear someone singing my name just before sunrise, beckoning me to follow the call. The song is the loveliest sound I've ever heard.
Easing quietly into my sandals, I grab the closest long robe, wrapping it tightly around myself. The voice beckons, stronger now, pleading me to follow.
I have to be quiet. If anyone sees me, I'll be dragged back here. But I have to follow the song. I have to know what they need from me.
They sound so sad, a song full of aching melodies and quiet heartbreak. Using light steps, I weave through the castle, the song telling me where to go to avoid any guards. The voice must know all. Perhaps it's the witches who need me for something.
Coming down the final stairs, two guards stand watch, nearly spotting me. The beautiful voice tells me to silently slip down the hall at the bottom of the stairs, the hidden servant's entrance tucked into a small alcove that way.
When the door opens to the fresh, early morning breeze, it smells of sea, sand, and magic. The fresh air fills my lungs, warm and cold at the same time.
This way, the voice beckons, calling me toward the waves crashing against the shoreline.
