“Not even a ‘Thank you’ or maybe an ‘I owe you one?’” he asked from behind me.
I snorted, keeping my voice light. “For all you’ve done to me, you deserve a ‘Go to hell’ or maybe a ‘Fuck you.’”
All I heard was a breath of amusement.
I frowned, not expecting that response. “Why are you following me?”
“Hasn’t that always been the question,” he said softly, thoughtfully.
I sucked in a little breath, inhaling the smell of sweet smoke escaping a window somewhere nearby. If he just kept his mouth shut, half my uncertainty about him would fly out the window, but it was like he knew how to reel me in with those words, that voice.
I pushed a towel hanging from a line out of the way, letting it drop right on him, but suddenly, he grabbed my wrist, slowly, gently, turning me around. Surrounded by hanging laundry, his gaze focused heavily on my own. The air was hot, suffocating, and the way he was looking at me, made my blood burn even hotter.
There was something soft behind his eyes that I couldn’t figure out. Something that made my heart patter in my chest, because paired with that stupidly handsome face, it suddenly made me want . . . more than I ever should.
It was so quiet in this spot that Symbia’s music flowed down the alleyway, hitting our ears with soft, melodic sounds.
“If I didn’t get here when I did, what would have happened?” he asked, his voice dark and deathly serious.
I swallowed, but then some agitation ran through me. He tries to banish me from the city and then acts concerned about my welfare?
“Who are you to act like you care?” For some reason, the resentment came up all at once, choking me. “Your brother walks around without a care in the world. For all I know you let him—”
“Don’t say it.” His voice was so cold that it sent a chill through me, cooling the bitterness in my veins. “Do you know what it takes to get close to a man like my father? How long it takes?”
I blinked, uncertainty piercing my chest.
“How fucking long does it take, Calamity? Tell me. You can do the math, can’t you?”
Swallowing, my heart beat erratically. I opened my mouth, but I was stunned silent.
“Ten months,” he said roughly.
Understanding dawned on me completely.
“He had his solar warded, the strongest Mages you can find at his disposal. He knew what his children were, knew of ways to protect himself from us.”
I shook my head, somehow not believing it was because of me. He had too many other reasons to do it, especially the execution of his mother.
A heaviness settled in my chest when he let out a bitter laugh as if he read my thoughts; he’d judged my expression at least. “I’ve wanted to do it for so many reasons, Calamity. But there was only one I needed to do it for.”
“Why?” I breathed.
“He took what was mine. I took what he cherished the most: his life.”
Mine. A sudden warmth heated my skin.
“He took your chance to open the seal,” I corrected.
“My chance is still standing right the fuck in front of me,” he snapped. “If I wanted it, I could take it. I still have your blood—I could have you following me on your hands and knees if I wished. And trust me, that idea’s been fucking tempting.”
What he said rang true. If he was that upset about the seal, why wasn’t he taking the time he had left to get me to open it? To save his sanity?
The fact that he waited, planned the death of his father, it made his actions—in the most disturbing way—much sincerer than doing it out of the heat of the moment.
After a minute of intense silence, he spoke.
“Truce.”