Page 75 of My Trojan Horse Majesty

I realize that I was wrong, but it’s too late to change the past.

I thought power could solve all my problems, but really, more than anything else, my biggest problem was that I was lonely.

There are some things in the world you can’t describe or understand until you’ve experienced them. Salt. Pain. Heat. Pleasure. Cold. Hunger. Until you’ve felt these things, experienced or endured them for yourself, good luck understanding what they mean. In my entire life, with my manic father, with my limited set of acquaintances and enemies, I had never felt anythingotherthan lonely.

For a brief moment, I fancied Katerina was a friend, but I discovered quickly that to her, I was just another tool.

Until I met Izzy.

Her smile was just for me.

Her words were kind, caring, and considerate, even after she discovered that I wasn’t the poor, beleaguered stallion meant for slaughter that she originally believed me to be. The way she looked at me after witnessing my beating in that dream—it wasn’t sympathy.

It was empathy.

The difference, I realize, is that she doesn’t feel sorry for me. She hurtswithme.

But the look in her eyes now?

It’s revulsion. It’s fear.

She detests me, and that hurts more than anything else ever has, redefining pain for me. My soul-match, the end to my loneliness, wishes she was nowhere near me. She appears to wish that she’d never met me. For the first time in my life, no amount of power can vanquish my foes, because I am my own foe. If I try to force myself into her life, I’ll only firm up the things her family is saying. I’ll convince her that they’re right—I’m irredeemable.

So I say nothing.

I do nothing.

It rankles in a way nothing has before.

“The thing is,” Izzy says in a small voice, “I’m kind of bonded to him.”

“You—what?” Her mother frowns. “What does that mean?”

Izzy looks around, taking in my people, scanning the gathering audience of people we don’t even know. The parking lot behind the capitol building isn’t exactly the best place to be having this conversation.

“You may hate him,” Izzy whispers, “and you may even be right, but we can’t talk about this right now. Come with us back to?—”

“You come with us.” Steve steps forward, beckoning Izzy to follow him.

The beast inside of me swells, demanding that I protect what’s mine. But she’s only mine because she’s chosen me. She’s only mine because she doesn’t detest me. If I harm her stepfather, she’ll run for sure. It’s hard, and it’s painful, but I suppress the beast, and I merely say, “Izzy.”

Her head turns toward me, and her eyes are pained. She knows if she goes with them. . .whatever link Squannit forged, it’ll snap. One or both of us may die. “I swear I won’t harm any of you,” I say. “If you’ll just follow us back to my hotel, you’ll be in no danger whatsoever and we can discuss all of this.”

“You can’t believe a word he says,” Abigail says. “He’s insane.”

Izzy shakes her head. “I can explain some things, but I think in this case, we can believe him.” She ducks her head a little. “You were right about Tim, though. He—we broke up.”

“I thought he was about the worst man I could imagine you being with,” Steve says. “But I guess I was wrong.” He’s glaring at me, and I can’t blame him.

“Just come with us, and you’ll understand more,” Izzy says. “But I have to ride in the car with him.”

“She has to ride with him?” Abigail frowns. “Do you think it’s like with Gustav and Gabe?”

“What about them?” I ask.

“They can’t be far apart,” Abigail says slowly. “Or it causes both of them pain. Does that sound. . .familiar?”

“That Lechuza.” Izzy closes her eyes and shakes her head. “It sounds like I wasn’t the only person she used.”

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