Page 102 of Wild Flame

I fidgeted with the tight fabric of my suit and nodded, unable to speak aloud.

“How long?” he demanded.

I stared back at him. “Ten years.”

“Did you kill someone tonight?”

I jerked back. “No.”

“Amal Uden?” he asked.

I blinked. “Who?”

“The murdered nobleman we were discussing at the banquet your first night in the palace. That was you?”

My eyes darted to my knife, where it now sat incriminatingly on the table next to him. “No. That was . . .”—I swallowed—“someone else from my Order.”

“So, there are more of you?”

I stayed silent. I felt no loyalty to Silvanus any longer, not after he had tried to kill me, but . . . explanations felt useless.

“Your knowledge of the poison . . . And that night I found you on the roof, you admitted you killed someone. I thought it was drunken rambling, not . . .” He trailed off. His jaw was clenching so hard I thought it might break.

He had never brought up that night I got drunk and went to the roof, likely out of consideration for me. I hadn’t realized I had actually told him anything, let alone nearly incriminating myself.

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I knew it was hard for you to open up, but I didn’t realize it was because you were lying to me.”

Azrun sat on his haunches, looking back and forth between the two of us as we spoke.

“I didn’t lie.” My protest came out more harshly than I intended, so I softened my next words. “I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell you everything. I didn’t—didn’t know how to . . .”

He glared down at the floor, then back up at me. “Is this the real reason your father sent you here? Do you work for him?”

I gaped at him. “No.No!Of course not. I would never want to hurt . . . I had no ulterior motive in coming here. If you will recall, it was you and my father who had the hidden agenda.”

He considered me. And from the look in his eyes, I thought he believed me, in that at least. But then his expression hardened. “And Zara?”

My heart was pounding in my chest. I had known this question was coming. Again, I didn’t answer.

“Tell me it wasn’t you!” he thundered, making me jump. “Tell me it wasn’t you who tried to assassinate my sister!”

His words pummeled me, and I flinched with each one. I wanted to shrink in on myself, retreat behind my wall like I had done so many times before. But instead, I forced myself to meet his eyes, to stand there and take it all. I deserved his wrath and his censure, all of it. My mouth opened, but I couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer him. Hot tears streamed down my face.When had I started crying?How did I even begin to explain why I did what I did or why I hadn’t killed Zara that night?

At the same time, underneath all that, there also rose a burning desire to defend myself—to explain. But all the words I came up with seemed inadequate. He needed to know—to understand—why, what made me choose this path.

“Say something!” he demanded.

The inferno of fury in his eyes sparked my own, and suddenly there were so many words that it felt like I was drowning in them. Like if I opened my mouth, they would come spilling out in a wave and I would never be able to hold them in again. Not even my fear of losing him, or the walls I had built around myself, could hold back the tide this time. So I broke.

“You want me to say something?” I shouted. “Fine. I’ll say something. Yes, I am an assassin, or at least I was. I’m not sure what I am now. And yes, I killed people. But I did what I did because I made a vow, and I hated it. Every. Single. Moment.” I pressed my fist to my chest. “It tore me apart, but I thought I was doing it for a reason—that it was the price he demanded.” I fought to keep my voice from trembling. “Though most of those Ikilled were far from innocent . . .” I knew this because I often had to watch my subject before killing them in order to assess the best way to do it. “It still ripped out a piece of my soul each time.”

“You made a vow? To whom?” he asked. “Your father?”

“My father had nothing to do with it. He’s never had any use for me, save for selling me off to you. I made the vow because I was desperate . . . and what I am—what I became—is the price he demanded in exchange.”

He stared at me. “Who is he? In exchange for what?”

Slowly, I reached into my suit to the small inner pocket I had carefully sewn into the lining to hold my talisman. I couldn’t risk losing it on an assignment, but I also couldn’t be parted from it. Malik and Azrun tensed as I did so, but I held up a hand.

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