“They put you in there more than once?” he asked.

She shivered at the gravel of rage in his voice.

“I might have a lot of discipline and ambition, but my drawback was often being rebellious to authority. There were many times any other fae would have died by their hand for the things I did.”

“But they kept you alive.”

“I’m an asset with my ability. They’re not wasteful. Abilities are coveted among the dark fae as it’s not as common as in the fae—not even close. They think royal blood is key. Some dark fae have weak abilities, likely from long diluted royal lineage somewhere. But Maverick—Callen Osirion—was the first Transitioned to keep his full power.”

“What about you?”

“Me?”

“You’re exceptionally powerful.”

“I’m born dark fae.”

“Are there others born with great power?”

Her brow knitted. “Not that I know of.”

She couldn’t stand his silence and glanced at him to decipher his thoughts, but he gave away nothing in his faraway stare.

“Who were your parents?”

“I don’t know.”

“How?”

“Darklings are given to the masters when they’re young. To train as soldiers.”

“That’s…absolutely terrible.”

“Is it more terrible than knowing the parents who harm or abandon you?”

She regretted those words as soon as she spoke them. Zaiana could hardly stand how much it unsettled her to witness his emotional pain, however fleeting.

“That’s a fair point. I guess we all become soldiers one way or another.”

Kyleer turned silent for a moment, and she hoped it would stay that way.

“It’s not normal, what you went through,” he said quietly. “These masters…why do they still hide?”

“They’re our teachers. The oldest of our kind. I wouldn’t expect them to leave their safe confines.”

“They’re cowards.”

She almost smiled at that.

“That much we can agree on.”

His hand slipped over her thigh, and Zaiana tensed.

“If you don’t kill them, I will.”

Her sharp stare angled down to him. “Don’t act heroic for me, Ky. I could watch them kill you and not feel anything for it.”

Lies.Such terrible, haunting lies.