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Then I found myself walking the length of the cage once more, trying to burn off the restless energy that had been building all day and attempting to escape all the things I didn’t want to think about.

But no amount of pacing could prevent my mind from going there. It could not stop what I started to realize was coming.

My chest tightened. I was moving, walking back and forth, but my body felt still—too still. I was slow to realize that the restlessness wasn’t only from being caged. It was also a warning sign of the discomfiting moods that seemed to come and go on a whim. One was on its way now.

“Shit,” I muttered, picking up my pace as I knew the stillness always seemed to make them worse. This was the last thing I needed now or, well…anytime. But especially not now.

Quickly braiding my hair, I started to go through my training exercises, but my mind was too fragmented. I shadowboxed for a few moments and then discovered that I’d stopped and was just standing still again. Too still. Thinking about Ash. Consumed by my worry for him.

What kind of state had he been in—was still in? I had a hard time keeping track of the days here, so I had no idea how long he’d been forced back into stasis. My stomach churned, and my fists clenched. Part of me wished I hadn’t known about how the bones of the Ancients could be used to keep a Primal sedated. The knowledge made me sick.

But Ash wasn’t the only person I was worried about. I’d been forcing myself not to dwell on so many others because it only made me feel helpless. Had Rhain fully healed? And how was Aios truly doing? Mid-swing, I stopped and touched the necklace. Obviously, she was alive. I’d been able to restore her life, but I had no idea how she was processing that. She was only the third person I’d done that to, and her injuries…gods, they had been bad. I didn’t know how long she had been gone before I’d brought her back. Could’ve been minutes. Maybe longer. How did she feel about that?

Then there was Orphine.

I gave up on training and returned to pacing. Thinking about the draken made my chest hurt because all I could see was the dakkais swarming her, their claws and teeth more than capable of tearing through the draken’s hard flesh.

I was worried about Bele. I could only assume that her Ascension made her more powerful, but none of us had any way of knowing if that meant she could go head-to-head with a Primal. Was she still in the Shadowlands, or had she gone to Sirta? If she hadn’t left, she couldn’t hide in the Shadowlands forever. I didn’t think she’d even try.

Then there was everyone else: Saion, Rhahar, Nektas, and more. So many more. Had they been wounded before the battle stopped? How were they dealing with the loss of Ector? Was little Reaver okay? Jadis? Was she even aware of what was happening around her, or was she too young? I hoped she was naïve enough to be blind to all of this and was happily setting fire to chairs. But Reaver? He probably knew what was going on, despite what everyone was likely keeping from him. He was still just a child. A youngling. But his eyes said he’d already experienced several lifetimes of loss and pain.

There was also Ezra.

A ragged breath left me, and I glanced at the windows along the ceiling. It had sounded like she’d been able to negotiate a deal with the kingdom of Terra, but had the Rot spread even farther? How was she handling the overwhelming stress of ruling Lasania—something she had never planned for and maybe didn’t even want?

I hadn’t thought of that when I’d told her to take the Crown.

Guilt settled on my shoulders, weighing me down and joining the worry as I fiddled with the necklace. The dread rose, too. The helplessness. My knuckles started to ache as my mind decided to revisit all the little things I’d done, the choices I’d made that’d seemed so insignificant as they happened but had all led up to this very moment once combined.

I should’ve confided in Ash the moment he brought me into the Shadowlands—told him what I had been trained for. If I had, I would’ve known then that he’d never been who I was supposed to kill. I could’ve changed so much.

I should’ve tried harder to get to Kolis. Even if I ended up not being able to kill him, I would’ve saved lives. Gods knew how many, but I could’ve saved Ector. He would still be alive. Aios wouldn’t have experienced death. Rhain would never have been captured and beaten to within an inch of his life.

I should’ve acknowledged my feelings for Ash sooner instead of being too afraid. I would’ve been happy more than sad—sad and angry. I could’ve lived more in the time I had with Ash. Loved more.

I should’ve been smarter when Ash came for me. If I’d been thinking, I would’ve known that attempting to distract Kolis would also be lethal to Ash. I could’ve aided him instead of being a hindrance.

I should’ve stayed focused when I freed myself instead of being distracted by the violence in the dark chambers. I would’ve made it farther. I could’ve escaped.

Should’ve. Could’ve. Would’ve.

There were so many. Too many to list as I stopped at the foot of the bed and looked at it. I swore I could still see the imprint of where Kolis had sat. That was ridiculous, days had passed.

But I could see it in my mind.

Could hear his voice.

Feel his arms.

I should’ve taken control of the situation. I’d been trained to seduce and use every weapon—including my body—to perform my duty and achieve my goal. If I had, I would’ve prevented myself from feeling like I’d done something wrong. As if I’d brought it on myself. Like I would never forget that he’d made it feel good. That if he hadn’t found release when he did, I would’ve found it no matter how badly I hadn’t wanted to. I could’ve convinced myself that it was just a part of doing what needed to be done. I felt the awareness in my chest, Sotoria’s presence, as I stood there, staring at the damn bed.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

I should’ve fought back harder. I was a fighter. A warrior. I would’ve been able to stop him if I had. I could’ve prevented Sotoria from having to experience anything like that again. I could’ve—

Spinning around, I raced behind the privacy screen and dropped to my knees at the toilet with a low whimper. I heaved, expelling what I’d consumed that day and then some, tears stinging my eyes, my throat burning. Clasping the sides of the seat, dry heaves racked my body, causing the sides of my stomach to spasm painfully. It felt like it would never stop.

I didn’t know how long I knelt there, panting as I willed my nausea to settle. Minutes? Hours? At some point, air drifted over my arms. My cheek. I cracked open a watery eye. Nothing was there. I listened for the sound of someone entering the chamber. There was nothing, but that coolness remained, reminding me of the soft press of a cool hand. Eventually, the tension leaked from my body, and the chilled air vanished, leaving me so damn tired. Closing my eyes, I counted the beats of my heart until I no longer felt like an overcooked noodle.