Page 80 of To No End

I watched his hands curl into tight fists below the water.

“The Erisas Bay painted in red will haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. Don’t you think I regret not doing more? Don’t you think I wish I had chosen the selfless path? I couldn’t watch him treat them that way anymore and saw a window of opportunity and seized it. But I never wanted the rebellion to happen in the first place. I pleaded with him to seek a diplomatic approach, but he was intent on sending a message.”

My cheeks warmed with embarrassment. Suddenly I felt small, like a child being scolded when they’d done something wrong. His sharp words punished me and I searched my thoughts for a retort—but could find none.

I didn’t deserve the last word. I’d judged him harshly, and yet I would’ve done the exact same thing. If it meant getting my family to safety, I would have chosen them.

In the complexities of war and bloodshed, we often lose sight of the small stories, and the histories only speak of the conquerors and conquered. I hung my head in regret. He must have noticed the silence of my shame.

“I can’t fix what happened at the rebellion, but when the time came, I did the only thing I thought I could to right my wrong…” He paused. “I was the one who told the black cloaks where he was hiding.”

“Really?” I whispered, looking up through my lashes.

“Yes. I’m the reason my father was captured. I’m the reason he’ll spend a long time being tortured until they finally put him out of his misery.”

“He deserved it,” I said coldly.

“He did. Nevertheless, sending my own father to his death is something I have to live with, along with what happened at Erisas.”

Varro looked utterly torn. I cannot imagine the choice he had had to make in doing so. He ran his hand through his wet curls.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever told. Not even my mother or sister knew it was me.”

My eyes widened at the confession. Why tell me? Why seek my approval? He could have left that out of the story and still made me feel just as terrible for all my brash words.

“By then, I knew I was going to demand they accept me as the Offering. Without me around, turning him in was the only wayto ensure he’d never be able to lay eyes or hands on them again. And as you said…he deserved it.”

I tried to imagine Varro’s mother and sister somewhere safe, finally free of their oppression, and how that must bring him such peace. The way it brought me some semblance of peace to know that Versa would never know what happened to me, and that she got to live out her life on her terms.

Somewhere smiling, holding a babe in her arms in the gardens of her flourishing estate while her husband looked on fondly from a distance. I hadn’t let myself fantasize about her happiness since I had arrived, but now I allowed myself a brief moment.

Varro cupped some of the water in his hand and poured it along his bruised and swelling cheek, drawing my attention back to the present.

“How did that happen? I never landed a punch.”

Varro began to shake his head back and forth in amused disbelief.

“Unlike the rest of us, you brought your past here.”

“…What?”

“Who do you think hit me, Cress? Multiple times, at that.”

A small gasp left my mouth in realization.

“Trace did that?”

“Yes, he went after me like a rabid beast and Cairis had to pull him off of me. He’s lucky I restrained myself, especially since I was more interested in assisting Gia to get you off the ground.”

My Gods, what kind of altercation had I missed? What had Trace done? He and I were careful to maintain appearances and control our emotions. This was my fault. If I had just yielded and hadn’t been stupid enough to make so many assumptions about Varro…

“It’s dangerous for you both,” he added.

I played innocent, making an excuse. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, or why he reacted like that. He probably can’t stand watching females take a hit.”

“He certainly doesn’t mind putting Gia at risk with a blade, and he didn’t come to your rescue when Saryn slapped you, though I could have had his hand for that.”

Varro’s words were like riddles. One minute he was chiding me, the next he was sounding protective.

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