Page 77 of Silver Claws, Crimson Tears
“Come on,” he mutters. “Let’s go before you talk yourself into execution regardless of the King’s orders.”
I bite my tongue, though the taste of unsaid retorts is bitter. As we leave, I wonder what game the King is playing, and why I’m suddenly a piece on the board.
Vaylen ushers me into the sparse chamber, just a table, some chairs, and a narrow window high on the wall. He gestures for me to sit, then kneels before me, producing a small iron key from his pocket.
“Let me get these off you,” he says, voice low as he works the lock.
His fingers brush my wrist, warm against my skin. The touch sends little sparks through me, complicating the whirlwind of emotions already raging inside. The manacles fall away with a heavy clank against the stone floor.
I rub my wrists, searching for words. My mind conjuring the vision of Tahranis instead.What the fuck?!
“Did you have a chance tothink?” I finally ask.
Vaylen looks up, still kneeling. “Hardly,” he says, enough bite in his voice to let me know I shouldn’t have asked. He studies my face. “Why does trouble seem to follow you everywhere, Rhealyn? It’s like you’re a lightning rod for chaos.”
The words hurt, make me feel like the stalwart High Prime would rather have a proper, quiet lady to contend with, and not me. Vicious anger leaks into my veins, the cold kind.
Leaning forward, close enough to see the yellow motes in his blue eyes, I say, “Would you prefer me boring and predictable, High Prime? Because if that’s what you want… well, I can assure you I’ll never oblige.”
Vaylen stretches to his full height, towering over me, his own anger flaring now. “There doesn’t seem to be much you will oblige, does it? Not even the loyalty you once promised.”
I stand too, refusing to be looked down upon. “That’s unfair and you know it.”
“Really?” His voice cuts like ice. “Because the fact that you can’t remember you cheated doesn’t mean you didn’t do it. Or that while you were doing it you still remembered that I existed, that I was waiting for you, and that didn’t stop you.”
The accusation hits me hard. My mouth falls open as I process his words.
“Cheated?” I step closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I don’t properly remember a damn thing from that year, Vaylen. Not one moment. But I’m supposed to feel guilty about something I can’t even recall? I woke up in the dirt, half-dead, with crows waiting to pick at my corpse, and now you’re accusing me of betraying you? What if they brainwashed me? What if they kept me drugged all the time? Have you considered that?”
A furious silence fills the space between us. My chest heaves with rage and hurt. The accusation cuts sharper than any sword.
“You made me promise to tell the truth,” I hiss, voice shaking. “You demanded honesty from me. For what? So you could treat me like dirt the moment things got complicated?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. The pain grounds me, keeps me from striking him or worse… crying. The unfairness of it all makes my eyes burn.
“Fuck off,” I spit, “and go suffer in all the levels of hell, High Prime Stormsong.”
27
Vaylen
Islam the door behind me, my heart a riot in my chest. Damn her. Damn her for making me feel this way, twisted between indignation and regret.
The corridor stretches before me, roughly hewn and cold as my thoughts. What right have I to accuse her? None. Yet the image burns in my mind. Rhealyn in another’s arms, another’s bed. A man who could split mountains and steal her from me. Maybe he already did, and she doesn’t know it.
My fist connects with the wall. Pain shoots through my knuckles, but I welcome it. Better than this jealousy that eats at my honor like acid on metal.
I pace the corridor, each step matched by doubt’s persistent whispers. What if she’s right? People with power to split mountains and command elements could surely bend a woman’s will. They could have drugged her, forced her into acts against her nature.
Goddess, what have I done?
My accusation hangs between us like poison. Without evidence, I’ve condemned her, let my fears override reason. Imade my judgement without clarity, in jealousy. A man of honor doesn’t strike without certainty. The thought settles like a Wind Dagger in my chest, twisting, cutting. I have deeply wounded the one person I’m supposed to protect.
But what if she?—?
No!
I shut that toxic line of thoughts down.
