Page 67 of Prince of Night and Storm
She speaks as if my death will impact her. At this moment, I don’t think she’s my therapist. I think she’s an interested third party. For the first time I wonder what her political ties are. How my death would affect them.
And why.
“I need you to hear me very clearly, Aerinne. If you’re experiencing suicidal ideation, it's imperative we address that immediately.” She leans forward slightly, her professional mask slipping to show genuine concern. “You must summon me whenever this happens. It doesn't matter what day, or the time. These thoughts require immediate, direct intervention.”
I shake my head. “They’re thoughts, Dr. Ward. I don’t think I would?—”
Of course I can’t finish the intended sentence.
“I know you favor directness—are you considering ending your life? Can you give me a ‘No’ response?”
“My life is my own. I know it’s selfish, but every warrior has a right to?—”
“This isn't just about you, Aerinne.” Her voice is sharpened steel, the edge of an ancient blade now slipping its sheathe. “You know this. Your House, your family, all of Everenne depends on your survival. If something happens to you, especially now Renaud is awake, the consequences would be catastrophic. Knowing that, do you really believe you have a ‘right’?”
She pauses, letting that sink in.
“The guilt you're carrying over one death—imagine carryingthe guilt of hundreds. Thousands. Is that really what you want? To add that weight to what you're already bearing?”
I stare at her a long moment, knowing she’s wielding words to manipulate me—but that’s her job isn’t it?—then say, softly, “I want to sleep.”
I don't want to go back to sleep and see his face under my lids, but I need the rest.
Darkan?
You need sleep, Aerinne. You are already in debt to your demons.
Why is Embry the one who haunts me? I killed others before him, and after, and slept just fine.
It's a rhetorical question. After a long pause, silence fey with tension, he answers anyway.You know he didn't deserve his death.
High Lord Embriel was a scholar, Baba and Danon’s colleague, a Dean who also taught University classes open to even the few humans who live in Everenne. He'd been well liked, and something more curious.
Apolitical.
Though he hadn't seemed apolitical when he'd taken my brother.
“Wait, Danon!”
Pinpricks.
I'd wanted revenge.
Revenge for my mother, revenge for Danon.
How does revenge feel?Darkan asks, voice a caress. Hedelights in holding a mirror of my shortcomings up to my face. Teaching moments, he calls them. Lessons.
Like rusted razors in my gut.
So now you understand the true value of vengeance. Now you understand the price of murdering innocents.
That stings.
Ordoyou? Do you kill without thought, without remorse? What lost sleep or tears shed over the blood on your hands?
Until Embriel? Maybe I am a sociopath, but Ward assures me true sociopaths don't worry about that.
I should tell the Prince,I say, testing the words.Accept punishment.
