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His jaw clenches, another argument sitting on his tongue for a moment before he sighs. "We can discuss it later." The concession makes my stomach flutter. This powerful man being willing to make room for me and my ideas gives me a feeling unlike I've ever known.
Unable to speak, I just nod, stepping backward into my room. As I slowly close the door, the king's eyes don't leave mine until I've been blocked from his view. The spell of his attention breaks, and I lean my head against the door for a moment before pouring myself into bed. The bone-deep exhaustion pulls me under immediately.
When I awake, Raya informs me that the king is in the library, so I find my way there on exhausted, slow legs.
As I enter, his eyes drift to me, relief palpable only for a moment before it's replaced with a bitterness I haven't seen since I first arrived, and he was trying to get a rise out of me.
"Kairon," I greet, nerves making my voice quiet.
"Miss Aistin," his cold delivery washes over me, and I slow my walking, stopping a few feet away.
"What's wrong?"
"Why would anything be wrong?" he asks, his tone sharp and derisive.
I choose my words carefully, not wanting to anger him further. "You're behaving strangely."
"Acting strangely?" he tsks. "I can't imagine why. It's not as if since you've been here, I've had to save you several times— at mine and my people's expense."
My eyes narrow. "Okay. Well, I'm sorry?" I'm really not sure how to deal with this version of him, the one I haven't seen in weeks and hoped I never would again.
"You're sorry?" He laughs to himself. "You've been nearly murdered twice, and you're sorry?"
I open my mouth to say something, but he interrupts me, "Was coming here worth it? Was it worth all the death you've nearly faced? For nothing, really." A bitter laugh leaves him as he rifles through the papers in front of him again.
"For nothing?" Fury fills me. "What do you mean for nothing? What we've done here is incredible. Because of this, there will finally be peace between all of our countries for the first time in centuries. This is going to be in history books. It's going to change the world. For everyone."
He laughs again. "Forgive me." Sarcasm drips from his mouth, making me ache to throw something at him. "I had forgotten how little you still actually know of this world. This is only historic for you. The rest of us have been capable of peace for generations. King Rivchi was useless, but even he managed to maintain these alliances during his rule. Rhyma is the only nation who has refused to lower themselves to our level here."
"No." I shake my head. "We have tried for years to-"
"You think that because your people voted for you and those who rule alongside you, there's no evil in Rhyma," he chides, malice filling his tone. "You don't understand that it doesn't matter that you think they chose you or that they think they chose you. They chose who they were told to believe in. And someone told them to believe in you so they could put you right here, knowing that you are more likely to die here by my hand than taken seriously. So you tell me, who is the more likely side to be lying about our collective histories? Me, Fastid, Lermo, Suva, Slawyth, and the Eyes? Or Rhyma, who has everything to gain if you're killed here?"
"Why would my country gain anything from my death?" I ask, confused by why he seems so angry at me. If I was fooled, if my people were, that certainly isn't my fault.
He stands and comes toward me so quickly that I nearly trip attempting to step back from him. But I'm not fast enough, and his gloved hands cradle my face. Exhaustion and desperation are so evident in his expression that his gray eyes leave me frozen in terror.
"Don't you see, Elva?" he asks, gripping me far too tightly while his eyes search my face. "You are the perfect martyr. Beautiful, young, kind. And they sent you here, believing your chances of returning were minimal. Either you succeed, and they get to cheer for their wisdom in choosing you to represent them, or you die, and they blame me, tearing through my country one village at a time to avenge you. Dragging Maren, Tirriel, and Colm into this conflict against their own wills."
"What is wrong with you?" I ask him, pushing him away from me. "What happened?"
He grips his hair at the roots, tugging at it. "What happened?" he repeats my question incredulously. "I've just finally realized how utterly fucked you've left me."
"Me?" I ask. "How is any of this my fault?"
"You have absolutely no instinct for survival." His eyes close in exasperation. "You literally walked right into a Syren's call, right into the water. You can't fucking swim, and you willingly walked right into the ocean."
I create space between us, unsure how I would cope if he chose to reach for me again. "How do you expect me to react to something I've never been exposed to before?"
"That's the point, Elva. You have no awareness of anything in this world, left completely ignorant by your leaders, sent into the most dangerous of your neighboring countries." With his hands on his hips, he stares at me. "You're in a position where your survival is entirely up to me, the person who has only ever been good at making sure the people around him die too soon."
"Kai," I start, reaching for him to show some kind of comfort, at least. "I'm fine. The Syren Queen attacked, and while, yes, it was a surprise that it was her, we knew something was coming, and now it has, and it's done."
"That doesn't fucking matter, Elva. So many things in this world could kill you, and I would have to fight a losing war while also recovering from the devastation." He laughs, a mirthless sound.
"Everything is going to be fine," I assure him. "I'll leave in the morning as soon as we finalize and sign all seven copies of the accords. You only need to put up with me for a few more hours."
His fury doesn't abate. "And then what?"
