Page 28 of Somber Prince

Chapter Nine

RHA

I kept holding the silver lid over the platter with Serus’s severed head. The Joy Vessel had fled, leaving me stunned.

There were two ways I’d envisioned this moment would go. Either the human would cry from gratitude. Or she would smile, filled with gratitude. Either way, she’d be grateful.

Now, it didn’t seem like she was.

Humans were still largely unknown creatures, unpredictable in their emotions. But I expected this Joy Vessel to feel some relief from her sorrow.

What did she actually feel?

She seemed upset.

But why?

Questions nagged at me. They buzzed in my head like annoying flies and would likely deprive me of sleep if I went to bed now.

I couldn’t go to bed. I needed answers. I needed them now. And I was going to get them.

Tossing the lid aside, I stormed out of the room and took a course toward the human’s bedroom. It was farther from my rooms than the sarai of Joy Vessels. On the way, my confusion had plenty of time to grow into irritation. By the time I shoved a hand against her door, the irritation spiked into anger.

“Why?” I demanded, as the door to her room flew open.

The human squeaked in shock at my sudden intrusion but recovered quickly. She hiked up her chin, as if accepting a challenge.

“Why what?”

Why aren’t you grateful?

Why don’t you feel relieved?

Why did you react the way you did?

“Why did you run away?” I settled on the simplest version.

Her weird, mismatched eyes opened wide, unsettling, like always. But I didn’t look away. I had to see her face to read her expression.

“What did I do wrong?” I asked.

She made a strangled sound, as if choking on her own breath. “You really have no idea?”

“I presented you with the head of your enemy. It’s an honorable gesture.”

“Best present ever.” Her voice was flat, her pale skin turning even paler.

“Do you not appreciate it? Revenge should bring satisfaction. It eases the pain of loss. A life paid for a life. It creates balance.”

Balance was the most important state of mind. It helped reach the highest feelings my kind were capable of—contentment and satisfaction.

Her expression turned somber. She gazed at me intently, as if trying to read me too, willing to understand. I held still under her scrutiny, even as the look from her mismatched eyes made my skin crawl with unease. Nothing about this woman seemed balanced—not her emotions, not her appearance.

“Two wrongs don’t make it right, Rha,” she finally said.

Her use of my name without the title or honorifics was highly disrespectful, but I didn’t correct her. She didn’t sound like she was mocking me, and I had a more important thing to focus on—I wished to understand her too.

“Two deaths don’t create a life,” she said. “Killing my father’s murderer will not bring my dad back.”

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