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Age has done him no disservice but also no favors.

“I am.” His voice sounds the same. The last time I heard it, he was screaming my name, begging for help.

And I thought I had failed him. He has been alive all this time and never once attempted to find me? Even if it was to accuse me of letting him go? It does not add up.

I fight my urge to look over at Luca, but I take a breath, then open my mind to him. I allow the words spoken in the room to flow freely toward him, and he makes a soft, startled noise.

“Did you find your Vyastil companion to have fulfilled all of his contract duties?”

“In part,” Kori says. He folds his hands demurely in front of him. He has always been good at playing this part. “He seemed uninterested in cum. I offered it to him, but he only partook a fraction of what was available.”

There’s a murmur of outrage amongst the crowd.

“And what was he more interested in?” Jyrion probes.

“The human experience,” Kori says. He straightens his shoulders and then meets my gaze directly. “Human emotion. Love.”

The murmur gets louder.

“He was not what he presented himself to be,” Kori goes on. “The leader of the entire Vyastil army, but he was weak. He was…so human.”

Jyrion smirks. “Were you grateful when you were removed from his care?”

Kori smiles. “I was.” He starts to take a step closer to Jyrion, but the prince quickly shakes his head, and for just a second, the arrogant look on Kori’s face falls.

“And you have been satisfied as a companion since then?”

“I have no regrets,” Kori says, and he looks me in the eye as he speaks.

I am not a foolish Vyastil, but I have been known to be too optimistic. I have been known to see good, better, and best in people who do not deserve it. I was blinded by curiosity and affection when I had Kori under my contract. And I was overwhelmed with grief and guilt when I believed I was responsible for his death.

It did not ever, not once, occur to me that he had a hand in his own survival. And that he willingly let me hate myself for years upon years simply to serve himself.

“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.

Kori looks at Jyrion, who gestures at him to go ahead. Then Kori looks at me. “Because you are weak. Prince Jyrion is strong.”

My knees threaten to buckle. The pain is not as great as it might have been if I had not found my VySytheh, but it still attempts to overwhelm me. I reach out to Luca in my mind, and he is there, waiting. Listening.

I will kill him.

I hold my breath, then send back, I love you.

Luca makes a loud noise. Don’t do anything stupid, Eissa. Please. Then I am bombarded by images built out of his fear—images of me lying on the floor, bloodied and no longer breathing.

I will not.

I recover my composure and look up at Jyrion. “This is such a circus for the charge of behaving like a human. You really enjoy the sound of your voice, do you not?”

Beside him, Izar glances away, attempting to hide a smile, and to my side, Vyrian bursts into laughter, though it doesn’t linger. But it is enough to humiliate Jyrion, whose ears whip back and his eyes flash.

“Bold for a Vyastil who betrayed his people by colluding with the Tarek.”

“What proof?” I demand.

His lips thin. “Are you prepared to defend yourself?”

I allow myself a single breath as I glance at Rathyn. He gives me a barely there nod, then I turn my attention back to Jyrion and give him the answer he’s been waiting for. “I am.”