hers was the first thought I had ever heard in my own mind, and I was so shocked by it that I had run away. Instead of telling Uncle Frederich what I’d sensed, I’d gone to get a piece of cranberry-apple pie.
So many people had died because of my cowardice.
“I would never harm a child,” Leonidas repeated, breaking into my dark thoughts.
“Your mother had no such compunctions during the Seven Spire massacre.” Once again, the words slipped out before I could stop them.
My harsh truth crackled through the air, but it vanished just as quickly, and an ugly silence sprang up between us. Leonidas’s face remained blank, although a muscle ticced in his jaw, and his whole body tensed.
“Despite what you and everyone else might think, I am not my mother,” he replied in a cold, clipped tone. “I don’t agree with many of the things she has done. Especially not the Seven Spire massacre.”
His regret stabbed into my mind, sharper than a gladiator’s sword, while his anger cracked against my body like a red-hot whip peeling the flesh from my bones. He didn’t like being compared to Maeven. I could understand that, although the knowledge didn’t drown out the phantom screams echoing in my ears.
I waited until the worst of the screams had faded away before I spoke again. “Point taken. Think of it this way. You spared that girl’s life, so I decided to spare yours in return.”
“How benevolent of you.”
I ignored his snide tone. “Will anyone besides Lyra come looking for you?”
“Planning to kill me now that you realize I’m of no use?” he asked, his tone snider than before.
“Not unless you give me a reason to. Unlike your charming mother, I don’t go around murdering people for sport.”
“How very reassuring,” he drawled. “Although, for the record, my mother never does anything for mere sport.”
“I just want to know if Wexel might descend on the cottage with more guards.”
Leonidas shook his head. “No. Wexel’s too arrogant to realize that he didn’t kill me. He won’t send anyone to check and make sure that I’m dead. What about you? Where are your . . . associates?”
Yet again, I got the impression that he meant an entirely different word, although I couldn’t imagine what it might be. “I have a friend in the city, trying to track down Wexel.”
“I doubt your friend will have much luck,” Leonidas replied. “From the rumors I’ve heard, as soon as Wexel has the tearstone, he and his men fly their strixes back to Morta.”
More frustration surged through me. Maybe Topacia could at least find out where the Mortans had been staying. Maybe if Wexel picked up another load of tearstone, he would return to the same place, and the Andvarian guards could capture him then.
“Who does Wexel work for?” I asked. “Queen Maeven?”
“Don’t worry about Wexel. I plan on killing him just as soon as I get the chance.” Deadly intent rippled through the prince’s voice.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“What does it matter who Wexel works for? You’ve obviously made up your mind that all Morricones, all Mortans, are evil. That we are all cruel, heartless monsters and nothing more.” He sighed. “I can’t blame you for your distrust.”
“But?”
Leonidas shrugged. “But if I tell you that Wexel works for my mother, then I’ll just be confirming your worst suspicions about her. If I claim that he works for someone else, then you probably won’t believe me. So what’s the point of saying anything at all?”
His words stung, because they were all too true. I did see the Morricones, especially Maeven, as monsters, and it was far easier to view Leonidas that way too. Otherwise, I would have to admit that he was a person with flaws, foibles, and feelings, and a man that I found far too interesting for my own good.
I thought about demanding some answers, but I doubted there was anything I could threaten him with that would be worse than what he’d already endured, given the scars on his back.
“So what now?” Leonidas asked, a tired note creeping into his voice.
By this point, he was slumped back against the settee cushions, and his body sagged with pain and exhaustion. Like it or not, he still needed my help, and I wasn’t going to toss him out on his ass just because he hadn’t revealed the information I’d wanted. That would have been petty and cruel, even for a spy like me.
“Now I check your wound.”
And we try not to kill