Page 42 of They Call Me Blue

“She’s doing well,” I say, leaning against the cold-iron railing. I shove my hands into my pockets, trying not to look at the bondage equipment intended for Brawler. “I fed Tyla and put her down in the nursery. She hasn’t cried once since returning from Yaklan’s surgery.”

Azerin’s shoulders sag in relief. “Of course, she hasn’t. She must have inherited Chalk’s disposition.”

A tense silence settles between us. Prowler doesn’t notice. He rolls from side to side and stretches his massive paws, rubbing his cheeks across the blue marble floor. His sabreteeth click on the stone. The wooden box groans as he jostles it.

Ignoring him, Azerin gazes past me, into the gardens and estate below. He has this glassy, faraway look to his eyes. “You were so fussy when I brought you home. I blame my myrie at the time. She’d been so strong-willed . . . just like you are.”

My brows furrow. He’s never spoken of my incubator before, and while it’s not illegal, it is taboo. I swallow past the lump in my throat, forcing myself not to use Yaklan’s word for it— mother. “What happened to her? Did you breed her again after?”

“Gods no.” He chuckles, but it’s humorless and dry. Patting the space beside him, Azerin motions me over.

I begrudgingly accept, pushing off the metal railing and stepping around Prowler to join him on the bed.

The frame groans beneath me, the plush mattress squeaking as I settle into sleek blue sheets.

Up above, loops have been welded into the wrought-iron frame—places to hook in wrist restraints, I realize.

My stomach churns at the sight.

“I was naive when I took her,” Azerin says finally. “I gave her too much freedom and taught her too many words. That’s something they don’t tell you—how easy it is to bond with the elves once they’re Marked and pregnant. I often doted on her the way Yaklan does his.”

“What happened?”

How does someone go from that to scalping Chalk at Sorso’s behest?

Azerin throws his arm around my shoulders.

“One day—close to the end of the pregnancy—she was opening letters for me in my study and turned the blade on herself. Right into her stomach. I thought she’d killed you, but Yaklan got there quickly and worked fast. I had to euthanize her afterward, obviously. ”

“Obviously,” I mumble.

It’s no surprise she’d rather die than carry an elgrew child. There’s a reason we keep them drugged and in chains, under constant supervision.

“At the training house, it was like reliving that day all over again,” Azerin says. His throat bobs. When he speaks, his voice is low and thick with emotion. “I should have never let you apprentice under Talin. If I had known what he was going to teach you . . .”

My jaw clenches. “Talin was a good man.”

“A good man who died for his ideals. I don’t want you to burn like your uncle, Lyrick.”

“I’m not—”

“You won’t eat captive elves. You won’t breed them or take them as slaves. If I don’t lose you to becoming feral, then I’ll lose you the way I lost him, whether you take the appointment or not.” He waves his hand at the estate. “How long until your friends turn on you? What about your enemies?”

I try not to remember Sarvenna's parting words. Crossing my arms, I shrug out of reach.

“I know you don’t want to take a myrie,” Azerin says, “but it’s the only way I know how to protect you. Like Yaklan, I need you to make a show of following tradition. The bare minimum will secure your future here.”

I see it then. The desperation in my father's face. It’s the same way he looked at me when he found me at the training house. For a brief moment, I wonder if he looked at Yaklan that way too. Were they friends before he became Karesai? Did Azerin save him from being burned as a fanatic?

There’s so little I know about my father. So much he hides.

“Yaklan never had to breed Vera in front of an audience of ten thousand,” I say finally.

“Yaklan doesn’t have rumors circulating about him that he can’t.”

I peer over my shoulder to the turquoise lake behind us. In the moonlight, the water gleams a silvery black, the waves lapping at a rocky shore.

“I’m not your enemy, Lyrick. I waited five years for you to choose someone because I wanted it to be your choice.

But the rumors have only gotten worse. It can’t wait any longer.

” Azerin cups my shoulder. “They know you apprenticed under Talin. Half the city suspects you butchered the Karesai who put him to death. If you think hiding in the forest will save you from their prying eyes, you’re wrong.

It’s best to face them head-on, from a position of strength. ”

“Do you think I killed Korun?” I ask. I’d only been fourteen at the time, too young for the other Karesai to suspect, too young for them to demand my head.

On the ground, Prowler stops rolling, staring up at us with his glowing orange eyes.

“What I know is that Korun took my brother and best friend from me, and someone did what I could not. I have always respected you for it.”

Wiping at his inflamed eyes, my father jumps from the altar, and Prowler darts out of the way of his landing feet.

Azerin bends in front of the wooden box and unlatches the thick cold-iron buckles holding it together.

It yawns open, groaning with age and use, to reveal piles of shining leather armor and a crown made from centuries-old vertebrate.

The last time I held that crown, I was drenched in Korun’s blood, bashing it into his thick fucking skull.

It was the best godsdamned moment of my life.

“This was my armor when I was a Hunter. I had Colette repair and resize it to fit your body.” He places the armor beside me.

It’s glossy and smooth—a dark shade of brown that almost looks black in the dull lighting. Intricate patterns decorate the pauldrons’ and gorget’s interlocking scales. When I pick them up, they’re no heavier than linen and no thicker than my dress shirt.

“What’s this made from?” I ask.

“Swamp dog hide.” Azerin unfurls a shining, long-sleeved tunic.

“It may feel insubstantial at first, but it’s thick enough to stop an arrow from penetrating and flexible enough that you’ll still be able to climb.

Unlike normal leather, it’s water resistant too, so you won’t have to worry about shrinkage or smell. ”

I grab a pair of pants and tug, testing the resistance and flexibility. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever worn before. I’ve never heard of an elgrew trapping swamp dogs for leather; few are willing to brave the Lycean Marshes.

“I’d like for you to wear it at your inauguration tomorrow.” Azerin says, coughing to clear his throat.

That’s when it finally hits. He’s giving this to me. Not only is my father passing down his former title, but he’s handing over the tools that helped him achieve it. Azerin killed his way to the top while wearing this. He became the greatest Hunter in Rayna while wearing this.

My eyes burn at the undeserved sentiment, but I force my face into a neutral expression.

Azerin retrieves the crown next, and when he places it on my head, I don’t stop him.