A Prince Among Killers - By J. B. Redmond Page 0,92

his reasons, at least in his own mind, were noble enough.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Nic,” he said, keeping his gaze on Dari lest she slip away before he could speak to her. “At least I hope I will.”

“You will,” Nic called as Aron made his way to the alcove. “I have faith in you, as always.”

When Aron reached Dari, she looked as furious as he’d ever seen her. He didn’t raise his arms to defend himself when she drew back her hand to slap him, and after a moment, she lowered her palm with a squeak of frustration.

Aron waited for a moment, until he was certain she wouldn’t change her mind about hitting him, then pulled her to him, saying only, “I’m sorry.”

It was the only explanation he could offer, and the complete truth, which she seemed to sense. When she pulled back to gaze at Aron, he kissed her, briefly, just enough to remember the sweetness of the weeks they had spent together. The days that she had, at least in part, been his. He wouldn’t trade that time for anything, but neither could he continue to enjoy her, or keep falling more and more deeply in love with her, when the rational part of his mind understood that her fate lay elsewhere, with someone else.

“Aron,” she whispered against his ear, her voice thick with emotion. “What did I do?”

“You’ve been perfect,” he said as he held her in a tighter embrace. “You are perfect. But I’m not. I hope you’ll forgive me for that.”

For long, beautiful moments, they stood together without speaking, until Aron could almost—almost—pretend that nothing had changed between them. He wanted to tell her more, maybe everything. Words flew through his mind, forming and rising, then fading to nothing. Dari’s fingers trailed across the back of his neck, and Aron ached to deny everything he knew, or work to overturn it.

Surely his knowledge gave him an advantage.

He could fight the vision, make sure that tree never grew—

But what would that mean for Dari?

That she would be forever halved, separate from her true self, her true love, her true fate?

Dari’s voice seemed like a sweet, fragrant breeze through his soul, as she tempted him with, “Tell me what you saw on the other side of the Veil, Aron.”

Aron closed his eyes and pressed his face into Dari’s fragrant hair. He kissed the side of her head, fought with his better and worst natures another few seconds, then gave the only right answer he could imagine.

“I saw a tree, Dari.”

She banged her fists against his shoulders. “You’re not making sense, and you’re making me angry.”

Aron turned her loose and managed to smile at her. “Then I should go. I don’t want you any more furious with me, today of all days.”

Dari stared at him, and for a moment he feared she would cry, and break down his resolve to let her go, to let fate take its natural course in her life. He had to walk away from her before that happened, so he did, figuring that he was likely increasing her confusion and rage—at least for now. Aron knew better than to try to explain what he had seen on the other side of the Veil, since neither Dari nor Nic had shared his vision, and both would deny it. Besides, Aron couldn’t say if he had seen what was destiny, or simply what should be, for the good of everyone involved, and of Eyrie.

All he knew for certain as he left Dari behind was that no matter how much he wanted Dari for himself, she did not—and would never—belong to him. Yet he couldn’t be angry with her or with Nic, or even with Stormbreaker for continuing to enjoy her company, unaware of what the future would likely bring. Aron couldn’t form that shield of hate and anger he had used so long to survive. This time, he could only hurt, and nurse his inner wounds to the best of his ability, and try to take each day as it came.

First the trial, then, if he survived, the drawing of his first stone.

And after that, Stone’s visitors—supporters and attackers alike—would begin to arrive, and fate would strike as it would, leaving the future as uncertain as the day Aron had faced Harvest.

Aron’s next stop was in front of Iko, who stood between him and the courtyard’s gate. “You haven’t intervened this time, and you won’t.”

“I haven’t, and I won’t.” Iko touched his chest with his