Page 15

Yet the others looked no less expectant.

They wouldn’t drop this, she knew it. And they wouldn’t trust that Pyetar wasn’t like his brother unless she convinced them.

Iryana closed her eyes, shutting them out. If she was going to really explain, she didn’t want to see the moment they regretted asking. There would be no careful choice of words; all she could do was let them pour out of her like blood from a wound.

She started quietly. “Karvek was the most dangerous creature I’d met. He could be charming and charismatic when he wanted. He knew what made you tick, how to make you dance for him, do whatever he wanted.” She took a raspy breath. “When you did what he wanted, he made you feel amazing. And if you didn’t… he was heartless. Ruthless. He didn’t come to power by challenge, like they say. He snuck into his room and stabbed him. Taunted him as he held his bleeding body. He tricked me into helping him do it. He stole his power. And he was standing between our clan and safety.”

She couldn’t fight a shudder, eyes still squeezed tight. The volume rose as the words poured out faster.

“I had to get close to him, earn access to the metal well. I worked very closely with him. I let him think he could manipulate me, that I was under his spell. But sometimes he succeeded. He was like a spider, slowly weaving his web until finally you realize you can’t move at all. And I knew if I got caught, if he suspected anything before it was time, he would slaughter you all. Without hesitation. I saw him kill people in secret just for bringing up things he didn’t like, saw how little he cared about giving his soldiers access to deadly drugs just to keep them compliant. And what he did wasn’t the worst part—it was what he made others do to earn his praise and avoid his ire. How he made them like pleasing him.”

It felt like her water tattoo was burning; her words were getting dangerously close to the things she’d revealed to make that bond with the water magic. How she’d doubted whether he was bad for the things he did. How she hadn’t hated his touch because she felt like she deserved it. How he wanted to keep her broken inside so she wasn’t strong enough to leave him, to fight his control. There was a part of her that had considered staying.

She didn’t say the words… but the silence seemed drenched in their implication.

Iryana forced her eyes open.

Teshya had grasped her husband’s hand tightly, both of them looking away. Edvar seemed to have retreated inside his mind, eyes blank, while Levek stared right through her. Kladara looked disgusted. Hadima’s wide eyes dripped with pity, and Misha… Misha could only look down at her hands fisted tightly in her skirt.

“Sorry for pushing,” Kladara muttered tightly.

Iryana’s voice was raspy when she added, “If that’s what he did to me in a few months, imagine what he did to his brother over the years. The biggest threat to his rule, to the image he wanted to portray.” Just the thought of it made her want to vomit. Pyetar had told her horrifying things, but she could only imagine there were things he hadn’t said. Things he would never admit.

She looked around at her family and realized that they pitied her, but it didn’t look like they believed her about Pyetar. And why would they? She’d just admitted Karvek had manipulated her; why wouldn’t his brother be capable of doing the same?

Had she ripped herself open for nothing? Admitted her own weaknesses and mistakes for nothing? In the back of her mind, she was constantly telling herself she wasn’t enough to be Third, wasn’t capable of proving herself in their eyes. And now this… Gods, she should have controlled herself. Now she could hardly breathe, eyes blown wide as she sat frozen, wishing she were anywhere else.

Had she made everything worse?

“Oh, I meant to ask, Teshya,” Hadima cut in, turning toward their cousin’s wife on the couch. “How is baby Anara doing with the colder nights?” It was a mercy.

It wasn’t an interesting question, yet everyone seemed happy to divert their attention. As Teshya and Tonhald talked about their child, the tension left everyone else’s shoulders. The conversation moved on.

Iryana couldn’t follow any of it. Her ears were roaring and her muscles were painfully tense.

She was so sick and tired of reacting like this. Of saying too much, or too little, or not the right thing, and making everything worse. She was tired of not knowing what to say and how to be around them. Of losing control of herself when things got difficult. Why was she so weak? She was so on edge that the room buzzed and her vision darkened around the edges. Much longer and she was sure she’d throw up. She hated it. Hated this part of herself.

But she knew it would only get worse.

Iryana abruptly stood. “I’m, uh, exhausted. I’m going to turn in.” She stepped around the others and made a beeline for the door.

She heard the quick patter of steps behind her, and Iryana fought a groan toward whoever was about to stop her. No, she knew who it was without even looking.

“Come on, you’re leaving in a couple of days,” Hadima pleaded, fingers gripping the loose fabric of her sleeve.

Had they not had this exchange so many times after their father had died? Iryana making everyone uncomfortable and then rushing off, Hadima trying to stop her and force it. It was a searing kind of nostalgia.

Iryana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to breathe. “You’re doing it again. Pushing me too far, just like before. Just leave it be.” Her voice came out sharper than she intended.

The tug on her sleeve immediately went away.

“Fine.” Hadima’s voice cracked. “Sorry.”

Iryana’s eyes opened to see Hadima’s stiff back as she returned to her seat.

She tried to catch her sister’s eyes once she sat back down, to show that she wasn’t really that mad, but Hadima refused to look at her.

Iryana sighed in defeat, guilt lancing through her, and headed for her room.