Page 167 of Between Despair and Hope

“No,” she said, leaning back to look up at me. “So, why were you lurking in the hallway?”

“I want to show you something.”

We spent the night in calm serenity. Enraptured by the night sky, we stayed warm by lighting a fire beside us. By the time we finished stargazing, enough snow had melted nearby that a small stream of water flowed down the slope behind us. When we returned to her old bedroom, I turned my attention to the constellations on her body, worshiping each freckle, curve, and indentation. Gentle and sweet, we reconnected in the quiet. I hated to be grateful for Kennon’s ailing health, but it had afforded us something we needed desperately.

Time.

“It’s strange to be in here with you,” she said, rolling over to face me. Dwindling light from the fireplace graced her features as she propped herself up on an elbow.

“And why’s that?”

“It feels like we’re breaking a rule or something. Like someone’s going to come in and scold us at any moment.”

I chuckled as she leaned in and gave me a soft kiss. It was moments like this, laughter and love intermixed with heartache, which made us whole again. The perfect mold of her body against my own as I tucked her into my side was something I would never take for granted.

And later, when I woke with a start, Vondi’s forever young face the only thing I could see, she jolted awake too. She sat up, grabbing my hand and holding it to her chest. She pulled her hair from her bare shoulder, making sure I could see her tattoo in the dim light.

“Real. Yours,” she whispered.

“Always.”

A moment’s pause hung heavy in the air between us.

“Are you alright?” she asked.

“It was Vondi again.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

During one of our somber nights the past week, I’d told her about the little boy the shifter had tormented me with. Sparing us both the risk of her condemnation, I hadn’t told her the details. The way she’d called me the Bloody Prince in the lake told me she either didn’t believe the story or hadn’t heard it. Part of me wanted to deprive her of the knowledge. She’d no doubt see me differently if she knew the stories were true. But the past few days had emboldened me, and I knew I needed to open up to her. So when she asked, I decided to tell her.

“What do you know of Varmeer before I…handled it?”

“Not much. It was a settlement first, right?”

“Yes. Vestian and Folterran at first. By the time I arrived, the settlement had merged into one, and Dryul had decided to claim the island. He sent forces and built a fortress on the northern side, put it under the control of one of his generals, Brunel. I wanted to just let him have it, but my father viewed it as a threat. Which, as it turns out, he wasn’t wrong. They were poised to use it as a launching point for an assault.”

“So, Soren made you handle it?”

“Yes. That’s why I was there.” I inhaled deeply. “Vondi was born on the island, and he never left. He is dead because of me.”

She said nothing, waiting, her expression concerned and nothing more. I sat up to face her, tracing the ink on her skin as she pulled the blanket up to keep her warm. It surprised me she didn’t immediately jump to tell me I was wrong, but she’d learned recently that sometimes we make lasting mistakes. The weight of our decisions could sink us if we let them, so I opened my heart to her so she’d do the same with me if she needed. I was hers just as she was mine, and we’d promised to shoulder one another’s burdens. I’d been unwilling before, afraid of weighing her down further, but perhaps we could help each other float. Letting her know the extent of my greatest regret, save for what I did to her, was terrifying but something we needed.

“His father was a foot soldier forced into the Folterran army, and his mother hailed from Olistos. They’d tried to find peace on the island to be together, and they had it until Dryul decided he wanted to claim Varmeer. Vondi’s father had died in a skirmish with soldiers my father sent ahead of me. The boy and his mother lived alone on the southern shore, where my contingency waited. Folterrans to the north, and my army to the south. His mother—uh, she didn’t do well after her husband died. Vondi had to take care of himself. Became a good little pickpocket. I used him for it and sent him into a den of wolves.”

“He spied for you? Why didn’t you use Aedwyn?” She didn’t ask with judgment, just curiosity.

There was a pang in my chest when I thought about the shifter twins. With Aerfen dead and no sight of Aedwyn from any of our spies, I had a feeling he was dead too, and I mourned their loss. “I didn’t have the shifters yet. They were minor, the things I asked of him. Most of the people who lived on the island just put up with Brunel. Honestly, it was peaceful enough before my father decided to take it back. So, the town was still active. I asked him to eavesdrop at a pub or monitor some of the general’s men. Things like that.”

“But something happened,” she said. Pulling my hand into her lap, she rubbed a thumb over my palm, pressing hard. I couldn’t help the soft grunt which escaped my lips.

“Yes. A relative of his, a distant cousin, I think, was part of Brunel’s inner circle. Vondi thought he could use that to his advantage and get me something more useful. He started giving me more detailed plots, and we stayed one step ahead as the Folterrans tried to run us off the island. I didn’t know where he got the information, and I was too naive and excited to use it to ask. I thought he was getting lucky.” Shaking my head, I wiped a hand down my face. I was so gods damned stupid. “A supply shipment from Folterra was set to come to the western shore, and I hoped to intercept it and sink it before it reached the docks. But it was an ambush. It’s how I got the scar on my back.”

“It was a trap, wasn’t it? To hurt you and prove—”

“To confirm he was the one giving me information, yes. If only I were as wise as you to see it sooner.” I gave her a tight smile, but all she did was cock her head to the side as I continued. “The healer could barely close me up once Thyra and Dewalt got me out. By the time I realized the truth, finally conscious, Brunel’s men had already killed him.”

“How old was he?” she whispered, still rubbing circles on my palm. Her eyes stayed fixed on me in the low light, that familiar wrinkle between her brows showing her concern.

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