Ruined - Amy Tintera Page 0,85
lump settled back into her throat. One minute of the old Cas was even more painful now that she knew that he would never smile at her like he used to.
“What was the first thing you stole?” he asked.
His smile was gone, but he hadn’t said the words like he was picking a fight. He squinted at the water, leaning backward and forward as he moved the oars.
“Food,” she said, after considering for a moment. “A few weeks after my father died. Me and Damian and Aren had gone on the run to Vallos, and none of us were experienced hunters. I was starving and this woman had dried beans sticking out of her bag. I swiped them and we ate for several days.”
“Did you feel guilty?”
“Not at the time, no. I didn’t really feel anything except rage then. Thinking back now, I wonder if she’d intended to eat that for several days as well.”
He nodded, still staring at the water. She didn’t know what that nod meant, and he didn’t offer a response, so she kept her mouth shut.
“And you really don’t have any Ruined power?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No.”
“Did your mother intend for you to inherit the throne?” he asked.
“No, Olivia was next in line. I was supposed to be her closest adviser.” She ran her fingertips over the water. “I was fine with it.”
“Really.” He lifted his eyebrows.
“Yes. She’s even more powerful than our mother was. Our people shouldn’t have denied me the throne after Olivia was taken, but I never disputed that she should have been the one to rule if she’d been there.”
“Ruined power is the only thing that matters when inheriting the throne?” he asked skeptically.
She shrugged. “It’s no more arbitrary than the firstborn inheriting.”
“I guess.” He looked at her for the first time since they’d started the conversation. “Was your mother disappointed?”
Em shook her head. “No. She thought I had other powers. Nonmagical ones, I mean.”
“Like what?”
“She said my strengths were being rational and calm. The ability to make people fear me. She said I inherited that from her. She had big plans for me, apparently. Leading armies and working as an extraction specialist.”
“An extraction specialist,” Cas repeated.
“Extracting information from people,” she said. Her guts twisted, and she had to look away from him. Would her mother have given her a choice? Or would that have been her job, whether she liked it or not?
“My father always said that extraction was Wenda’s specialty,” Cas said, his tone betraying a hint of bitterness.
Em stared at the water, wishing he hadn’t asked about her mother.
“He said her torture methods were unlike anything he’d ever seen. It was one of the reasons he had to invade.”
“And was that also why he took Olivia?” she snapped.
“Maybe he feared that her daughters were going to turn out exactly like her, considering she was already preparing one of them for a career in torture.” His voice rose, the oars moving faster.
“I can think of worse things than turning out like my mother!” As soon as the yell left her mouth she regretted it, but the anger swirled inside of her too violently to back down.
“I can’t think of anything worse, actually,” he spat. “She tortured people for fun—”
“Your father just tortured one of my best friends!” she interrupted.
“And your mother would have tortured every person in Lera if given the chance!”
“Well, she wasn’t given the chance, was she?” Em shouted.
“And maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Cas said tightly.
“Lovely. Please go on about how you think it’s so great that my mother is dead.”
“Really. You’re telling me that you aren’t celebrating that my father is dead.”
She pressed her lips together. He had her there. Lera—and the rest of the kingdoms—were much better off without him.
And maybe she could understand why Cas felt that way about her mother.
“Perhaps we should just both agree that both our parents were horrible people,” Cas said drily.
She let out a startled laugh. Cas cocked one eyebrow at that reaction, and she felt a fresh wave of almost hysterical laughter bubbling to the surface. She leaned over her knees, her giggles echoing across the river, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle them.
She caught a glimpse of Cas’s stony face, and she knew the laughter was going to dissolve into tears. The ache of keeping them in pushed at her throat, and her attempts to force the tears away were entirely unsuccessful. They spilled down her cheeks. She pressed