nations, remember? Or were you not present for the same boring speech I was?”
“I fail to see how that has to do with removing Archeron’s head.”
“Because removing the head of the largest Solissian kingdom’s ruler would go against our new peace and love theme.” She shrugged her bird-boned shoulders. “I am all for the idea, mind you, especially if I get to keep the head. It’s so much more interesting now that half his face is hideous and the other beautiful, plus I always thought the notion of allying all the nations was ridiculous.”
“So then this speech is . . . what? You arguing for the sake of arguing?”
“I just feel the need to point out that Haven will be furious . . . since you seem to care about that.”
He felt his teeth bare in a ridiculous smile. “I do, strangely. As should you since you swore an oath as her Chosen.”
“Swearing an oath to protect her with my life does not mean I care about her moods.” She leaned back, stretching her wings. “And how long must we keep playing nice with the Solis nations, exactly?”
“As long as Haven wants.”
“Begging for alliances? Pleading to be acknowledged as the daughter of Freya? Our mother didn’t ask for permission to be respected, she demanded it. Disrespect was answered with immediate violence.”
“Not in the end.”
Nasira’s eyes flashed. “And look what happened.”
That was my fault. The words clumped in his throat, unspoken. Nasira would never say as much, but she didn’t have to.
And now, the thought of the same thing happening to Haven . . .
A growl rumbled his chest. “She won’t tell me what he did to her.”
Nasira’s gray-blue eyes took on a haunted quality as she met his furious stare. “Remember when they used to drag us away from our cells while the other watched?” She exhaled, shifting her focus to the purple and gold haze gilding the stringy clouds. “When you returned, covered in blood and bruises and worse, your eyes terrifyingly vacant, I would ask you what happened, remember?”
The memories pushed to the surface, poisoning his thoughts until he forced them back down. Today was not the day to revisit those particular horrors.
“I didn’t understand then why you wouldn’t answer me, but I do now.” Nasira met his eyes again, the pain inside her face making his gut twist. “You were protecting me, Stol. You always protected me, no matter the price that safety cost you.”
He let his attention slide to Haven. Done bathing, Demelza had a plush white towel wrapped around Haven’s thin body. “She doesn’t need to shield me from what happened.”
“No? After she disappeared—Stol, the last time I saw you like that was when—”
“Don’t. Don’t say it.”
He could still see his mother’s silver eyes, rimmed gold like his, as they jerked wide. They flashed in his dreams, his nightmares. Her mouth parting. The gold ring fading and silver turning to soot as the life left her.
That was the last time he felt that angry, that afraid, his emotions tangled and raw and all-consuming.
“Are you sure she’s worth all of this?” The wind nearly swallowed Nasira’s soft voice.
Without hesitation, he replied, “Yes.”
They both turned to watch Haven. She seemed to have regained most of her strength, evident by the animated way she argued with Demelza—something about demons?
And yet . . . his gaze riveted to the jaggedness of her collarbones and arms. The gauntness of her cheeks.
That wasn’t caused overnight.
A swell of concern rose inside him, followed by a scowl. After centuries of smothering every emotion, every whisper of feeling beyond unfettered rage, the vulnerability that came with caring for another being was . . . uncomfortable.
Even with his sister, he had managed to detach himself from worrying over her. Probably because she was half-feral and most times it was whomever she came into contact with that suffered.
With Haven, though . . . there was no detaching himself. No severing the strange bond between them. Not now. He could no more cage his feelings for her than he could his Shadow Wolf.
Both had grown too powerful for that.
He followed her with his gaze, frowning as he made out the shadows that settled between the sharp knobs of her spine.
The demands of his kingdom made it impossible to ensure she made time to eat. At first, he’d assumed she was simply too busy and had the cooks begin delivering her food to that tiny, desolate room she insisted on using.
But they informed him the plates returned uneaten.