Page 68 of Kill the Beast
She stood, dusting off her hands. “Why?”
“Go back up to the temple. Tell Elena I won’t be much longer.”
“Al—”
“I don’t know what possessed me, allowing you down here. It seems I still can’t shake the urge to share more of myself with you than is strictly necessary.” A look of disgust passed over his face, but she didn’t know if it was directed at her, or himself. “At least now I know why it feels like we have some sort of connection—we both lost brothers to the Beast. I’m just sorry you find me so unworthy of your trust that you felt the need to hide it from me.”
She stared at him. She didn’t know whether to be angry—she didn’t owe him her secrets, no matter what he had chosen to reveal to her—or ashamed that she had been so reticent, in the face of his honesty, his trust in her.
How could she explain how much it terrified her, to get close to anyone again? How could she put into words how much she wanted to confide in him—but that trusting someone felt like putting all of her weight on a bridge she wasn’t sure would hold?
After the silence became unbearable, he turned and walked away from her.
“Alderic,” she called after him. He stiffened, but didn’t turn around. “I wanted to tell you. I almost did, a hundred times. I’m sorry I couldn’t.”
It wasn’t enough. He continued walking without a word, until the crypt swallowed him up, leaving Lyssa alone.
Alderic came back an eternity later, the spelled jar rattling in his hand as he walked. He looked upset, and Lyssa knew it had been hard for him, prying those nails out of his brother’s coffin. Shewished that she had been there with him—forhim—and was hurt that he hadn’t wanted her to be.
Not that she could blame him.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I told you to go back up to the temple,” he said, though he sounded more exhausted than angry.
“I didn’t want to leave you down here alone.”
He took off his pack and tucked the jar carefully inside. “All we have left are the personal concerns?” he asked, and she nodded. “Do you know what you’re going to use?”
She hesitated. “Brandy’s collar.”
Alderic frowned. “I thought personal concerns had to relate to a Hound’s victims in some way.”
“They do,” Lyssa said. “But… I was thinking… the Beast destroyed our lives. Yours and mine. That makes us victims, too, doesn’t it? Which means any item that represents happiness or love to us should work.”
The little furrow between his brows deepened. “Be that as it may, I think something of your brother’s would be a stronger choice.”
“I don’t have anything left of his,” she said, hating the lump that formed in her throat at the admission.
“Does your father?”
She scowled. “I amnotgoing to—”
“He does, doesn’t he?”
“A photograph,” she said through clenched teeth. “From before my mother died. When we were all still happy.” She knew it would work perfectly, but the thought of what she would have to do to get it was unbearable.
“You don’t have to forgive him,” Alderic said gently, as if he could feel the panic and anger roiling through her at the thought. “You just have to talk to him.”
“He won’t want to talk to me. I just stabbed him, in case you forgot.”
“Well, maybe start by apologizing for that, then. Tell him why you need the photograph, and what it’ll accomplish.”
She shook her head. “I’m just going to use the collar.”
“It won’t be as powerful, and you know it,” he said. “What’s more important, avenging your brother’s death, or punishing your father for things that happened over a decade ago?”
Lyssa glared at him, hating him for being right. “I’ll think about it.”
