Page 17 of Sundered By Fate

He needed her truth more than anything else.

"Olaya, please?—"

Ruta's voice was soft, tentative. "Olaya, let him speak. You know he's a large part of why I'm standing here right now."

Aric's pulse spiked. Hearing Ruta stand up for him meant more than he'd expected it to—and the ghost of a memory threaded through him, so bittersweet and raw.

The feeling of Darioth's teeth closing in.

The stillness in Malekith's presence as Aric begged him to spare Ruta's life.

Not the moment to get lost in old regrets. Not when he was trying to help these people too.

"I don't know why you're truly here," Ruta went on, glancing at Aric uncertainly. "But you helped me once already." She bit her lip. "I've already told you my story," she said to Olaya, the demons' hunts and Malekith's ruse to free her. "It was Aric who saved me from the one demon and bought time for another to bring me to the border safely."

"You were always too clever by half," Davin muttered with a sniff, all that old affection fading under a new hardness Aric couldn't quite read. "Eager for every advantage you could find in the fight against the demons."

Aric wasn't sure if he meant it as a compliment or not.

"Maybe that's why they took me," Aric said, ignoring how his stomach turned at referring to Malekith so impersonally. "Or maybe I just got lucky." He felt suddenly exposed, laid bare. He'd fought so hard to bury his vulnerabilities beneath layers of armor, but in the face of Olaya's stern expression and Davin's disdain, they came rushing back to him. Still, if he'd tried to come up with a lie or ruse before this meeting to explain away his return from their clutches, no way they would have bought it. And he was tired—so gods-damned tired—of the lies.

He forced himself to meet Olaya's eyes as he continued. "I'll admit that circumstances around my return seem . . . suspicious, to say the least." He clenched his jaw. "But whatever he hoped I could do for them . . . all I've been trying for is protecting my people as best I can."

Aric's explanation seemed to sap the heat from Olaya's anger. She lowered her arms and rubbed at one shoulder with the other hand, glancing away from him. "I feared you dead," she said quietly, not looking up at him. "I'd been trying not to hold out hope you were alive until Ruta came to us. And even then . . ."

"I'm sorry," Aric said gently. And he was—he'd been reckless with his own life in ways he didn't know how to apologize for. Not yet. "Let me try to explain."

"Start from the beginning," Olaya prompted. "When you were taken by the demons."

Aric took a deep breath, forcing himself to meet her eyes. "It was after a battle—one of the last at our outpost in the Borderlands. I . . . I was captured and brought to their realm. They had ways of . . . forcing compliance." He hesitated, words sticking in his throat as he struggled not to conjure memories of Malekith's hands on him, Malekith's voice calling his name. There were some truths he would take to his grave.

"They're adept at breaking prisoners, as you know," he added with a glance at Ruta. She nodded solemnly in agreement.

Olaya's lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't interrupt him.

"I feigned subservience long enough to learn what they were planning—a new wave of attacks." Aric clenched his jaw against the tidal wave of emotion threatening to overtake him. "I couldn't stand idly by and let them slaughter innocent people. They dragged me along on their campaign. Used their magic to draw out the secrets of the wards from me." Aric flinched. A half-truth. "But finally, an opportunity came in Drindal, when they were distracted by their . . . petty court intrigues."

"And what of the demon who kept you prisoner?" Ruta asked. "Malekith?"

Aric bit back his knee-jerk reaction. No point in denying it, not when she'd already met him while under his "protection."

"Yes," he finally admitted. "He helped me leave the demon realm."

Olaya and Davin exchanged looks, both of them registering that revelation with varying degrees of skepticism.

"And what did you have to do for him in return?" Olaya asked softly.

Aric hesitated, his gut twisting with memories that felt all too raw and immediate: the way they'd nearly ended each other's lives so many times over, yet always drawn back together; the vulnerability beneath Malekith's mask as he'd begged for more time.

All eyes were on him. Aric's chest felt tight, the invisible bonds around him growing more oppressive by the second. He needed to end this, needed to escape before he said too much.

"Malekith's reasons are his own," Aric said, praying his lie sounded convincing. "But I suspect it was just another of his schemes—playing at something beyond our comprehension. Using me against the demons' Sovereign in some way." The words tasted sour on his tongue. "All I know is that he let me go, and I intend to use whatever advantage I have for our people."

The answer seemed to satisfy them. For now.

"We'll help however we can," Olaya said. "But we must proceed carefully. The Silver Tower is already stretched thin as it is, especially after they dismantled the Drindal outpost and scrambled the Pureblade Order. And despite those efforts, several recent demon attacks have slipped through our defenses, and your battle here only adds to my concerns."

Olaya noticed Aric's expression, and her own softened. "We've both fought these battles long enough to know the stakes, Aric. But this—whatever is causing these anomalies, or if there are other dangers headed our way—we need to face it with clear minds and open hearts."

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