Page 182 of The Blood Rites

It goes on for ages. When I finally speak, my voice sounds like someone else’s, cracked and small.

“So, this is it, then,” I say, but I don’t know what I mean, exactly. The Rites are almost done and everything feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something catastrophic.

It’s the end of us—of whatever we are. Things should never have gone this way.

Kael’s eyes flick to mine, and for a second, he looks almost sad, but he schools his features into amusement.

“Don’t start with that,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “Not yet.”

I want to make a joke, to make light of it all. But nothing comes. Instead, I hear myself say, “Did you know you can smell it when your own skin is burning?”

He blinks. “Yes.”

We stare at the floor. The lights in the ceiling throw fractured patterns across the stone. It’s beautiful, really. But I don’t care. I want to say something smart—or meaningful—but the only things in my head are fragments.

“I kept pulling on the chains,” I say, not looking at him. “Even when it hurt. Even when it was obvious it wouldn’t work.”

“Why?” he asks.

I can’t tell what he means by it, so I answer anyway. “Staying still was worse.”

There is a long pause. Kael stretches out his fingers, as if checking they're all still attached.

“We had a dog when I was young,” he says. “My father had his Blessed beat it until it never fought back. It just lay down and let you do whatever. He called that loyalty.”

He glances at me. “You’re not like that,” he says. “You fight back, no matter how much it hurts.”

I want to believe it’s a compliment. I really do.

“I just couldn't stand there and burn, even though my Mana wouldn't come.”

He goes very still.

“I didn't want to feel like nothing—again.”

The words hang. I feel foolish, exposed. I have to keep going. If I stop, I’ll never get it out.

“I never asked for anything,” I whisper. “That’s what they said. They blamed me.”

His jaw clenches, fine muscles twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“I stayed quiet. I did everything right. I promise.”

The last word is so childish it makes me want to vomit.

Kael doesn't laugh. He just slides closer and sets his hand at the back of my neck. The pressure is light, but it pins me to the world.

“Shh,” he says, voice softer than I’ve ever heard it. “It’s alright.”

His hand is warm and grounding.

“I believe you.”

The words are so simple. But they nearly break me apart anyway. I can’t look at him. If I do, I’ll cry. I want to scream, or disappear. So I change the subject instead.

“I don’t really remember what happened at the end,” I say. “Just the liquid fire. Vaelis’ hands. Then the lights flying away.”

Kael doesn’t move his hand. “Atheron and Serraith flooded the room. They used the lava to drown us. They knew I was going to kill them both.”