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I continue as if he hasn’t spoken. “Then I need you to care aboutthese kinds of problems.”

“Why?”

“Because only one of us can be emotionally stunted, cynical, and detached. And I’ve got that covered.” I give him a humorless smile.

He ponders me. “That’s remarkably self-aware of you.”

“Are you going to help them or not? And remember, you have to actuallycare.”

Calysian gives me an indulgent smirk—the one that makes it clear he finds me adorable. It’s the kind of look he knows will irritate me.

It works. I barely suppress a snarl, and Calysian’s smirk widens. He’s pleased with himself.

Across the room, the innkeeper watches us, hope splashed across her face.

Calysian glances at her, and then back to me. With a roll of his eyes, he saunters out of the inn. I watch as he stands, feet spread, his hand shading his eyes from the sun as he scans the tiny village.

I let out a long breath.

The future is fluid. I refuse to believe Calysian is destined to burn down this world during his revenge. Maybe…maybe I can make him care about this world and the people in it. Maybe that will be enough to keep this world safe from his inevitable rage.

Or maybe I’m being remarkably naïve.

At the very least, we can help these people and make Vicana’s soldiers think twice before they attempt to take the next village.

For now, that has to be enough.

Calysian

I kill every soldier who approaches the village.

Madinia doesn’t lift a finger. She merely watches with those sapphire eyes that see far too much. At one point when I glance in her direction, I catch her sharpening her nails.

When the soldiers are dead, and the villagers are collecting the bodies to bury, I stalk over to her, finding her speaking to the innkeeper. The woman beams at me, then hands Madinia a young boy to hold while she steps away to speak to a group of villagers.

Madinia and the boy stare at each other. Slowly, she holds out her arms in an attempt to hand him to me.

I step back, gesturing at the blood soaked into my shirt. “I need to bathe. You’re on your own, sweetheart.”

The boy reaches out and grabs a lock of Madinia’s hair, pulling viciously. She winces, narrowing her eyes at me.

I smirk. The few hours we were delayed were worth it just to watch Madinia attempt to wrestle her hair back from him, a hint of panic in her eyes. She mouths a dark curse at me, and I make my way back into the inn, where one of the innkeepers’ daughters brings me water, along with an offer to help me wash.

I accept the former, decline the offer of help, and by the time I make my way downstairs, Madinia is murmuring quietly with the innkeeper once more. The woman presses a sack of food into my hands. “Thank you.”

The gratitude discomforts me. Perhaps because I know if not for the flame-haired woman watching me so closely, I would have left these people to die.

We leave the villagers to their grim task of burying the dead, winding our way west through scrubland.

“You know the soldiers will return,” I say quietly.

Madinia’s mouth thins, but she gives me a stiff nod. “We’re no saviors. We bought them a little time, that’s all. Maybe not much, but enough.”

And yet she seems strangely content. My instincts fire. “Tell me you’re not planning what I think you’re planning.”

Her gaze darts away, even as her chin juts up. “I already helped kill one tyrant monarch. Vicana is no different.”

“Several factions and thousands of soldiers allowed you and your friends to get close enough to kill Regner,” I grind out. “How exactly do you think you’ll kill Vicana?”