Page 102 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
Crawling up his arms and strewn across his chest and abs.
“What did they do to you?” I asked, barely above a whisper. He’d already washed the blood away; I couldn’t even imagine the harsh memories he’d already bathed off.
“The monks made me stronger. Power is pain. And I’m already healing.”
He was, right before my shocked eyes. The wounds were slowly closing, the skin stitching back.
I inhaled sharply. “How is that possible?”
“Blood Brotherhood magic. It’s faster than normal healing. If the wound is shallow enough, you’re stranded in the woods for a few days, and have enough energy to power the spell, you live to fight another day.”
“So you need to be struck down hard and fast the first time,” I said distractedly, gaze snagging on a long scar near his heart. That one looked old. Painful. “What about this one?”
My left hand rose of its own accord, yearning to trace the jagged silver line. I stopped midway. Barely.
“That’s from when I was seven,” Zandyr said, eyes so intently focused on me, it felt like he wanted to see my very soul. “My favorite tutor, who’d spent an entire year gaining my trust and teaching me history, tried to cut my heart out and leave it on my parents’ throne.”
Stunned silence enveloped us.
“How?” I whispered, horrified beyond belief.
“Unbeknownst to anyone, he was an Old Guard spy, obsessively dedicated to avenging the Northern Clans against my parents’ slight. My father was betrothed to one of their princesses, but chose my mother. It caused a scandal and a massacre. Luckily for them, he hadn’t yet signed the contractwith the princess or we would’ve had to deal with the Council’s wrath as well.”
“Didn’t–” I licked my lips, throat suddenly constricted. Leesa had been right. “Didn’t your parents…my grandfather…didn’t anyone protect you?”
“From what I’ve heard of Constantine’s character, he probably would have intervened if he’d known. Nobody attacked me while you were in the Protectorate, perhaps the Northern Clans had been too scared of your grandfather to kill his future grandson-in-law,” he said. “My parents were adamant about keeping my attempted murder a secret, so nobody else would be inspired to try again.”
I was overwhelmed with the need to embrace him until all the shadows slowly crowding his gaze vanished. From the way his jaw clenched, I doubted he would have welcomed comfort right now.
He’d been seven.Seven.
A child, betrayed by one of the adults he trusted most.
I don’t plan on raising my children the same way.
He’d been telling me he’d come after me because he didn’t want to make his parents’ mistakes. That he wanted to protect his people and future children.
I hadn’t truly, fully believed it until now. The horrors he had gone through in his childhood had left their mark on the decisions the man was forced to make.
My fingers floated right above the scar. Each time he inhaled, there was the barest contact with his chest.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, tilting my face up.
A curious glimmer danced in his eyes. “Concerned for me? You?”
“Horrified at what you had to go through.”
We were so close, it felt like he breathed his next words straight into me. “You know, you’re the first person who saidthat to me. My father swore revenge, my mother wept, and my other tutors devoted their hours to training me to survive more assassination attempts. But nobody apologized that I had ended up on the sharp side of a dagger.”
“I’m sorry for that, too.”
His eyes jumped to my lips. His fingers dug into my waist as if he didn’t quite know if he should pull me closer or push me away. “What did you want to talk about, Evie?”
Hearing my name twisting his tongue burned through my veins.
I shook my head, ignoring the sensation, and met his gaze head-on. The question that I had been smothering for days finally poured out.
“Why does Valuta want to kill me?”
