31

Goodbye

Azir had spent the night awake, mixed-up thoughts going through his mind. At the same time, he paid attention to the deatheyes. There were more than two, and while he hoped they would fall asleep during the day, he couldn’t be sure that would be the case.

Either way, he and Ursiana were out of food and water and it would be easier to escape sooner rather than later. The longer they remained here, the weaker they’d become.

He’d thought a lot about what Ursiana had told him. Her version of events made a lot more sense than thinking she’d gone off with some random prince. It had never made sense, and yet he’d believed it like a gullible idiot. All because it was easier to believe the worst in people. Now he was stuck in this awful place, with monstrous creatures outside. More and more he was coming to the conclusion that there was no way for both of them to leave this place alive. He had no doubt in his heart who he wanted to survive.

He kneeled by Ursiana and touched her shoulder.

She opened her eyes, saw him, then sat up, as if scared. “What?”

“You’re afraid of me?”

“I hate you. It’s different.”

“I accept that. I… I thought about what you said.” His words came out with difficulty. “And I believe you. You have no idea how hard it is for me to say it, how hard it is for me to admit I was wrong, admit I might have ruined my life and maybe your life because I believed in a stupid lie, but I did. To my credit, I was young. I had nobody to give me advice, nobody to confide in other than false friends. Not that it excuses it. I know it doesn’t. I should have trusted you. Or at least given you a chance to explain your side of the story. I never gave you that. But just…” He sighed, words stuck in his throat.

Ursiana shook her head. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does. It does because I want you to know it. If ever I believed the worst in you, it was not because I didn’t know who you were. I knew it, and I knew it well. But I had just lost my entire family, many of my friends, the very city where I grew up. If I didn’t trust you, it wasn’t because I thought less of you, but because of my inability to believe that things could be good again. If I didn’t trust you, it was because I didn’t trust that good things could last. I had just lost everyone and everything I loved, and perhaps it was easier to accept that loving you was a lie than to lose you again.”

Her eyes were hard. “Pretty words. It doesn’t change the fact that I was the one left alone and pregnant.”

“But you found someone who took care of you.”

“And if I hadn’t? You don’t know what happens to us, do you?”

“I can’t pretend—”

“Not all families want to live with the shame. A daughter who dies from a strange disease is better than a disgraced daughter with a bastard child.”

He frowned. “Your family wouldn’t—”

“I don’t know. I never asked. Flavio and Kasim rescued me, rescued Leah, but it could have been very different. Perhaps neither of us would have been here.”

“You never asked for my help.”

She glared at him. “Don’t get me started, Azir. Don’t.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” He sighed. “I… I’ve been thinking about our escape, and there isn’t much we can do, except—” He closed his eyes. “We’ll have to wait until they’re quiet and run, hoping they’ll take long to see us. There should be a corridor leading out of this place. The deatheyes can throw poisonous spikes, and they’re deadly, so you’ll go in front of me. That way, if any spike reaches us, they’ll hit only me, and you’ll survive.”

She stared wide-eyed at him for long seconds, then, all of a sudden, said, “Fine.”

Fine.All right. He hadn’t been expecting tears or anything dramatic, but he had been hoping for a slightly stronger reaction than that. After all, he was willing to die for her. Perhaps she secretly thought it was hilarious and was going to celebrate his passing after she got back safely to Aluria. Perhaps he deserved it. Or maybe he hadn’t been clear.

“You understand I might die.”

She nodded a little too fast, as if nervous. That was at least some reaction. What had he been expecting anyway? She’d always see him as the rake who had taken advantage of her then left her, despite all his apologies and explanations. He’d spent years of his life thinking of her as the cold woman who’d betrayed him, secure in the feeling that he’d never been loved. There was something comforting about hating, it made you much less vulnerable, and perhaps he didn’t have the right to take it away from her.

Still, he had things to tell her. “Ursiana, Leah might be in danger. I want you to get her out of Ironhold.”

There was fire in her eyes. “You want? You have no right to want anything to do with her. You might have conceived her, but she’s not your daughter. That said, yes, any idiot will agree she can’t stay in Ironhold, and if by any miracle you survive, maybe you should take care of it.”

He sighed. “So you agree with me and yet you chastise me.”

“Don’t you dare act like her father, that’s all.”