He knows.
Dalca’s feet touch down three feet away. I blink away the rain that gathers on my lashes. A chill spreads through my skin, sinking deep into my bones. My legs tremble. I can make them run, but where do I go?
I just need a plan. I just need an ikon. I scrub the rain out of my eyes.
The chill seeps into my mind and makes one thing clear as ice: everything I’ve done has brought me here. Every choice I made was the wrong one. I am as much of a fool as Pa says.
Dalca puts a cold hand to my cheek. I flinch. He looks deep into my eyes, as if he’s trying to pull something from me. “It’s you,” he says. “It’s always been you, hasn’t it? The gray-eyed girl from the home for the cursed.”
What does he mean? With his thumb, he wipes away my tears. I knock his hand away. I don’t want him to have my tears—I don’t want to be crying—I don’t want his words to worm their way through my skin, into the soft, defenseless parts of me.
“I thought you were gone. I wept for you, thinking I’d wronged you.” A dark, bitter smile touches his lips. “What a fool I was. You were here all along, using me.” His face is so cold, so tight with simmering rage. I see nothing of the Dalca who saved me, who said,You frighten me.
My voice comes out a whisper. “I only wanted to save my pa.”
Dalca shakes his head. “That’s the difference between us. You only want to save yourpa.” He makes the word sound childish. “I don’t have that luxury. I have to save us all.”
“Why do you have him? Why do you keep him there, all alone?”
“What right have you to question me? You’re a thief. We found the weapons under your bed. What were you hoping to do? Finish what your parents started? Kill my mother, like they killed my grandfather?”
I shake my head.
“Perhaps you meant to kill me. I’m an easier target, after all. I’d half fallen for you.”
“I wouldn’t—I didn’t.”
“Is that what you wanted? The Great King has set his claim on my soul, and the city will have my life. Are you one of those who hunts for my heart, for power over me?”
I drag my eyes to his. Raindrops roll down his face, down his nose, down his lips. The rain clumps his eyelashes together, and his lips tremble with either cold or fury.
“All I wanted was my father.”
He laughs; it’s a cold, harsh sound. “You told me thatIwasn’t doing enough. And yet you would sacrifice the city to save your father?”
I shake my head, uncomprehending. He wants something from Pa—that much I know—but that the fate of the city lies in the balance?
“What should I do with you?”
I back away. “Let me go.”
Dalca holds himself rigid, fists clenched, making not a single movement to chase after me. “Go, then. But where? The Wardana are not far behind me. And behind them, the Regia’s Guard. Even if I let you go, they’ll find you. And you’ve seen what the Regia’s Guard does to those who shelter their enemies.”
My mouth fills with an acrid taste, and I choke on the need to get away, to run and keep running until I’m free of the everything, of the wrong choices, of the sorrow and the hope, free of the small, cruel storm inside me.
But I won’t bring that harm upon anyone.
The city is blanketed in mist from the rain. Where could I go? Back to the Storm-eaten house? That’s as good as giving up on Pa. How long would I have before the Regia’s Guard came for me?
I can’t be out of choices. I can’t.
A soft footfall. I startle, the hair on my arms rising.
Dalca, a notch between his brows, lips wearing neither a smile nor a cruel twist. He holds out a hand, rain dripping from his fingertips.
“Or you could come with me.”
I hesitate with my hands curled under my collarbone. He holds my gaze.
I take his hand.
Dalca tugs me close as his cloak billows wide. His arms fold around me, keeping me safe or keeping me caged. I can’t tell.
We rise into the air, and he makes no promise not to drop me, not this time.