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She sniffed, glowering up at me. “Why? Are myfeelingstoo much for you?”

“No. Because I want to gut anyone who made you cry. And I don’t want to have to impale myself on my own sword.”

Her mouth curved into a reluctant smile. “You’re not as amusing as you think you are.”

I leaned down and nuzzled her cheek. Surprisingly, she allowed it. “I don’t like to talk about that time.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. Even though I don’t talk about it…I’m glad you know. About my uncle.”

“What did you mean when you said you owed your brother everything?”

I pulled back enough to look at her. “After our parents were murdered, he kept me at the castle with him. My nightmares were so crippling, eventually he allowed me to sleep in his chambers. He’d tell me stories until I fell asleep. When he sent me away to train with Galon…it was difficult for him.”

Prisca’s gaze was steady on mine. Her usually expressive face was carefully blank. For once, I had no idea what she was thinking.

“What is it?”

She attempted a smile. “Tell me about that time.”

I shrugged. “The training camp was brutal. Galon had already seen one hundred and twenty winters. I was young, cocky, and certain that fighting his students would be just like brawling with Conreth’s guards.”

She smirked at me. “I’m guessing it wasn’t.”

“No. The camp was located in the foothills of the Minaret Mountains—a freezing, dangerous place. I didn’t exactly make any friends the first few winters. I was targeted for multiple reasons—the fact that I was the prince, and the rumors of my actions the night my parents were killed. Each time I was close to giving up, when all I wanted to do was hide beneath my bed, something would arrive from Conreth. Something small. A letter. Perhaps a new knife. Encouraging words.”

Her face had gone pale. I studied her. “What is it, wildcat?”

“Nothing. I just don’t like the thought of you being there so young. How old were the others?”

I shrugged. “Most had seen at least fourteen or fifteen winters. I knew young my power and speed were both a blessing and a curse. It had to be harnessed so I could protect our kingdom.”

Prisca cupped my cheek with her hand. She was touching me again, and the tension inside my chest began to unwind. I caught her hand with mine, holding it in place.

“I want to tell you about Crawyth.” My gut burned at my own words, but Prisca stroked her thumb over the tops of my knuckles. And the invisible rope around my throat loosened slightly.

“I’m sure you’ve asked yourself what reason the fae would have to attack Crawyth?”

She nodded. “It never made sense to me. It never made sense to anyone. What happened?”

“Regner happened. He learned that the hybrids had made it a sanctuary of their own—your mother had made that happen. Even the priestesses were hybrids, and all of this was happening in his own kingdom. After the events the night my family was killed—and the way residents had found me on the outskirts of Valtana—Regner had been sure to keep rumors of the Bloodthirsty Prince alive.

“He fed stolen power to one of his own people who could harness lightning. It didn’t matter that Regner’s puppet couldn’t use other elements like I could. Those who lived in Crawyth just saw buildings exploding. They saw the sky lit with lightning, and they saw a man who appeared to be fae, riding a dark horse. It was easy for them to believe it was me. But we had our own spies. One of them had warned Conreth of what Regner was planning.”

Confusion flickered across Prisca’s face. “Why didn’t Conreth send his people?”

I’d asked myself the same question. And it killed me that I had no answer to give her. Once again, our people had failed hers. And even if I wasn’t directly responsible for her parents’ deaths, the fae could have prevented it.

Prisca’s lips thinned at my silence. But she waved her hand at me to continue.

“I got there in time to witness the last of the destruction. The destruction happening in my name. Regner had used the reputation he’d created over and over, until I was known as a monster. A butcher. I found the impostor dressed like me, wielding less power at his best than I could at my weakest. We…fought. I attempted to shield the buildings around us from the worst of it. I could hear screaming. I knew the people were fleeing. I killed him.” Satisfaction coated my words. I would kill him a thousand more times if I could. But he hadn’t been the only one I’d killed.

Prisca squeezed my hand. I raised my head. It felt as if she was very far away. Her face was wet, and that jolted me back to the present moment.

“Don’t cry.”

“Shh. Tell me the rest, Lorian.”