“They usually go rogue. And they don’t come back. If they do, it’s usually not good for anyone.”
My head spun, explanations for every one of Weston’s actions, reasons he fit the ‘assassin’ persona so well, whirling around in my mind like a spin-top. Did I somehow amuse him, keep him from a tedious routine, the madness, as Roldan had said? If that was true, then what was he like while I’d been gone? Did I even have to ask that question? He killed his father.
Apprehension ran through me like icy water, my heart offbeat. “Does that have something to do with why Weston wants me out of the south?”
“I’m not sure what he has planned. But he’s lived here all of his childhood. We’re still connected to our past life; our feelings about it, the people in it, become even stronger. If he plans on staying in the south, I promise you don’t want to be here as well.”
I couldn’t decide what I should feel. If the uncertainty curling in my stomach from realizing why Weston wanted the seal open all along, was overpowering th
e sweet relief of why he wanted me to leave. And if the darkness inside me was somehow motivating me either way, swimming in the recesses of my stomach, waiting for its chance to lunge.
“You’re next, aren’t you?” I asked emotionlessly.
“Twenty-eight.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “So opening the seal will save you and your brother’s sane life.”
“And my sisters’, and my daughter’s. And all of my people scattered out there waiting for their day to come.”
“And ruin more lives than it would save,” I said dryly.
He shrugged. “Survival of the fittest. The minds that cannot handle the magic weren’t meant to be here in the first place. Humans never had a place on Alyria. They came from Elian and stole the land from us natives, and when they realized the magic didn’t suit them, they did away it, cursing those who cannot live normally without it.
“You’ve heard human plights, you’ve read human books—they’ve brainwashed you. They are physically weak, but they are smart, and you’re falling into their trap.”
I stood there, stunned. Having never heard this side of the argument before. It made me question everything I’d read, seen, heard. Was I somehow indoctrinated as he had said? Had I been on the wrong side all along? Was I still Calamity Debonair, Naïve? My heart thumped in my chest, the soft trickling of the fountain the only sounds as we stood side by side, silent, while I had this revelation.
“I shall give you time to think about it.”
“It’s not necessary,” I said, my voice a little unsteady, uncertain in my new decision.
He glanced at me, curiously, but seeing the resolve in my eyes, nodded once, a new understanding between us. He held his hand out for me to shake and to sign myself into this pact with him. I glanced at it for a second before sliding my hand into his grip. I stepped forward. “I’d say it’d be a pleasure to work with you, Roldan.” I leaned up on my tiptoes to say in his ear, “But you know, the killing thing and all . . . and drat, I’ve almost forgotten—I need to show you the special.”
Before he could question it, I shoved Weston’s blade to the hilt in his stomach.
An angry groan crawled up his throat, coming out like a growl. With my hand still on the blade, I pushed a little deeper for good measure. “My grandmother is a human. All of my past friends, my fellow Sisters. Do you think I would ever subject them all to a mental test that could end their life?”
I took a step back. His breaths came out in a hiss, his light eyes darkening to a black spreading out further than even his irises. I could see the monster he spoke of. His teeth were bared, two incisors sharpening to lethal points.
“Well, well, it seems you are just like your brother, aren’t you . . .?”
Pain flickered across his angry face, before he dropped to his knees.
“What purpose do those teeth serve, I wonder?” I asked absently, not expecting a response.
“Ripping out throats on the battlefield,” he growled, his head bowed as he hesitated in pulling the blade out, before pounding his fist on the floor in anger.
“Lovely,” I muttered.
“I’ll show you firsthand.”
“Hmm. I’ll pass.” He eyed me with disdain, his chest heaving with his breaths. “Speaking of your brother, give his knife back to him, will you? I’m sure he’s a bit cross his choices have been limited.”
When I reached the door, I turned to see he’d pulled the knife out and was sitting on his haunches, the monster relieved to have the thorn out.
I eyed him with feigned remorse. “I’m really sorry about all that,” I said, gesturing to the blood and stuff. “You understand why I had to do it, don’t you?” Leaving the room, I sighed, “Try not to trail any blood in the house!”
Revenge: it tasted more bitter than I’d expected.