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“When she became pregnant with me, the King was furious. He accused her of being unfaithful and had her thrown in the dungeons. She gave birth to me in a cell and by some miracle, we both survived. The king, not wanting a bastard son, sold us to a wealthy lord when I was just a babe. That lord was a member ofthe War Council and raised me for the first ten years of my life as his own and protected my mother.

“That lord’s son was Malik. Being close in age, we became fast friends, neither of us understanding that we were not ordinary children. Malik’s father, Lord Henrik was next in line to become High Priest, which meant Malik would become his successor. Though Henrik treated me as his own son, he did not train me, did not ready me for the ways of court like he did Malik. But I watched and learned everything I could through cracked doors and stolen glances at royal parchment.” His chains rattled softly as he shifted again, a wheezing cough forcing itself from his lungs as the metallic scent of blood mingled with his feverish sweat.

“When I was ten years old, a group of guards from the House of High showed up at the door of Lord Henrik’s manor. They had been sent by my father to tear me from the only home I had known—from my mother—and bring me to the House of High. The Queen still had not produced a male heir and I was his only chance of furthering his bloodline. So he legitimized me as his son and heir, and I was thrust into a world I knew nothing about. A world of politics, power struggles, and twisted mind games. The King and Queen hated me. I was nothing more than a political bargaining piece in their scheme to hold on to power. They beat me, burned me, tortured me every time they got the chance. Every time I made a mistake, I was punished, adding another scar to my body as their reward. It was the monks that truly raised me, it was through them I learned what The Silliands really was—learned the true history of our realm. The atrocities, lies, and deceit that had been committed and used to build a kingdom on the backs of the innocent.”

Realization dawned on me then. He’d always said that he’d planned the betrayal of The Silliands for years, that his scheme was concocted as a child and I never truly believed him.

Maybe I never wanted to believe him.

Didn’t want to believe that underneath the cruelty he had shown me that he might actually be a good man.

“Is that when your plan started, when you decided you would betray them?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered softly. “I was next in line to become king, and that meant I would have the power to make a change and I could not do nothing with that. I took what I had learned to Malik and slowly, we started planning. With me as King and him as High Priest, we had an opportunity to change everything the realm had become. I learned to navigate the treacherous waters of the royal court, always watching my back and trusting no one. I had to be smarter, stronger, more ruthless and cunning than anyone else if I hoped to sit on that throne. And so I did whatever it took to claw my way to the top, never forgetting the lessons of hardship and resilience my mother had taught me.

“Over the years, I began to glamour myself, erase every ounce of her likeness from my skin, so when people looked at me, they only saw the king—they only saw his face etched into my features. I built up every physical defense I could to withstand their torture, to be ready when the time came to act. Readying myself for the worst outcome while praying for the best. Malik and I mixed Svech with ink and slowly tattooed it onto our skin to build up a tolerance to it, to get it flowing through our blood so it would not affect us if caught. I sharpened my mind, my wit, my charm to a deadly edge, thinking that would be enough, but it wasn’t.”

Dukovich fell silent for a long moment and though I couldn’t see him, I could sense it like a whisper across my skin, the pain this story brought him. My hand fell to my side and slipped through the bars, finding his in the dark as the tips of them intertwined.

“When I was twenty-five, I met a merchant that came into The Silliands to sell goods from Redelvtum. Our courtship was innocent in the beginning. I would stop at her booth and buy things just so I could speak with her, get a moment with her. The months passed quickly and by the time her merchant visa expired, we had fallen in love. Before she left to go back to Redelvtum, Malik married us in a secret ceremony. This happened in the spring and I did not see her again until the fall, when choice day came. She chose to become a traveler and it wasn’t until she came back to The Silliands carrying my child, carrying an heir to the throne, that I realized the extreme danger I had put her in.

“I built a home for her on the outskirts of Mornos, moving my mother there with her to help care for my child, help to raise him while I played my role in the House of High. She was the very beat of my heart, and I loved her with every cell I was made of, but that was my weakness. I let myself love, and it got her killed. My father found out about her and my son a year after she came to The Silliands and he murdered them both in front of me while twenty of his men bound me in place with their Uthrens.”

The words caught on the emotions building in his throat, his fingers tightening around mine as a heart wrenching shudder fell from his lips. I listened, staying silent as he drew in a long shaky breath to steady himself before speaking again.

“He burned Celine with Amond tied to her chest, cradled in her arms. She did not scream, she did not make a single sound as she clung to him—soothed him against the flames that were slowly eating them alive as he wailed against her breast in pain, and I looked away.I looked away like a fucking coward.”

My heart cracked, the splintering pieces ricocheting through my chest as rage and pain for him bled out through the crater that had emerged as tears streamed down my cheeks.

“In her last breaths, her last moments alive where she should have seen her husband fighting against the Uthrens, should have seen his eyes and the love and sorrow they held—she saw a boy who could not stomach her pain. Malik took my mother into hiding that very night. Years passed and I grew into a man, hardened and jaded by the cruelties of royal life. When my father, the Queen, and Lord Henrik were killed at the start of the Great War, my birthright to the throne was called into question because I did not have pure royal blood. So instead, I fell into power as the High Priest, and with no pure living heirs to take up the mantel, the hierarchy was changed to put the High Priests and Priestesses in power.”

Dukovich paused, clearing the emotion from his throat as he leaned his head against the cold iron bars. His voice dropped to a haunting whisper as he spoke again. “But I was naïve. I thought I could change things, make life better for the common people of the realm. I did not realize the depths of corruption that ran through the nobility, the things they were willing to do to keep the masses oppressed and revel in their riches. I realized during the war, watching pure blooded Marzog nobility burning travelers in the streets, that if I was going to change what The Silliands was, I would have to become the devil to do it. So I did.”

His fingers tightened around mine as his body shifted at my back, turning to face me. I twisted my body toward him, my muscles aching with the movement as my eyes caught his in the dark, our fingers still intertwined.

“The choices I made, the sacrifices, the betrayals . . . they all led me to the moment you were taken prisoner. I watched them drag you into the pit, kicking and screaming, swearing and fighting back like you were fearless. You looked me in the eye, the man that held your life in his hands and spit in my face.” A thin chuckle slipped from between his cracked lips at the memory. He lifted his other hand to my skin, sliding up thecolumn of my neck and resting it just beneath my jaw as his eyes hardened.

“I watched them make the very first cut into you, watched them pack the wound with Svech. I knew the pain that caused, knew the agony of what they were doing to you firsthand but still, you did not scream. You closed your eyes, clenched your teeth, and breathed through the torture. I saw Celine in you at that moment, saw her fighting spirit, and this time, I did not look away.”

My heart rose to my throat as he said the words, the pace frenzied and wild.

“I have made so many mistakes, love. Done things that haunt even me. The worst of them, looking away when the woman I loved needed me to be strong. I will not make that mistake again. I will never look away from you, Ataliia.”

For a long moment, we simply stared at each other, his soul laid bare in the silence between us, the intensity in his eyes stealing the breath from my lungs. I swallowed hard, my lips parting to speak but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say, how to respond to what his words inferred.

His thumb brushed over my jaw, the gentle touch a stark contrast to the hardened people we were. In that moment, I saw him—truly saw him. Not the cruel High Priest who had let his lackeys torture me, not the cunning schemer playing one of his games, but the boy who had lost everything, and the man who had sacrificed his very soul at a chance at redemption.

“Dukovich, I . . .” My voice trailed off, the words sticking in my throat.

A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “It is all right, love. You do not need to say anything.”

But I wanted to say something,neededto say something. After everything he had just shared, the least I could do wasshow him some semblance of empathy, offer some shred of honesty.

I did care.

My heart ached for the wounds he had sustained in his life, the horrors and tragedy that built him.

But it was so fucking hard for me to show him.