He shakes his head. "My parents are dead. And the rest of the clan despised us. When the boss came to steal me away, my parents fought, but the rest of the clan didn't want to get involved."
I stop, staring at the back of his neck. "Why the hell not? I thought clans were supposed to protect its members."
"That's the idea. But I'm an outsider. They didn't care what happened to me."
"An outsider? How so?"
Tristan takes a beat to answer, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning away from me. Does he think I'll hate him for what he is? That's impossible. My mate looked in disgust at me when he found out what I am. No way I'm repeating that to anyone.
"I'm a hybrid."
"Hybrid? You look pretty human."
"I'm half-human."
I wait, but he doesn't offer anything else. Leaning onto the side of the tub, I touch a wet hand to his shoulder. He turns and meets my eyes with his anxious ones. "I don't care you're hybrid, Tristan. It's alright." I move my hand between us. "This is a safe zone."
"Safe zone?" He arches an eyebrow.
"Yeah. It means I won't hate you for anything you say."
He still takes another beat to think this over. Crap. I wonder how much shit he lived through. It left quite the mark on his life. Finally, Tristan takes a huge breath. "I'm half-human, half-gargoyle." The truth shudders out of him. "My clan of gargoyle shifters hated it. They even tried to kill my mother when she was pregnant with me. They are not my family. They did nothing to stop the boss from taking me, or from killing my parents."
Fuck, this is heavy. I shift in the tub and hug his shoulders, uncaring if I'm all wet. His hands close over mine, and his warmth seeps into me. "Stop calling him boss. He's not your boss, and he never was. He's a filthy slaver, a m —" I would call him murderer, but then I'd be a hypocrite and I just said this was a safe zone. "That man is awful. He's a monster. One of the many monsters in this world."
He holds me closer. "I'm a monster too."
"You're no monster."
"I had to kill a person," he blurts out, eyes unfocused, gaping into distant memories. "And I would do it again. If that fae tried to take you against your will, or that vampire, I would have killed them. And I wouldn't feel bad about it."
His words resonate deep within me. That's exactly how I feel too. The killing of the Chosen One was accidental, but I would have killed him even if he hadn't tripped like a fool. He was trying to rape me. He was being all smug about being a rapist and going free with every crime of his.
Does this make me a monster? Am I being unfair trying to put a different worth on people's lives? Who am I to judge who lives and who dies? And yet, I would never allow anyone to hurt Tristan or Ren or Apollo or... Or even Donatello. I would see them dead, and I would accept the label of monster if that meant they lived.
"If you're a monster," I murmur against Tristan's neck, “then I'm a monster too."
We hold each other like this for an impressive time. I tell myself I'll leave the tub when the water goes cold, but it never does. Magic? Fae technology? Not interested in figuring it out right now, because I have a promise to keep.
After putting my clothes back, I enter the room once more. Oreo hasn’t touched the food, but he’s fast asleep. I wish he would eat, but I won’t wake him up, so I take Tristan's hand and we exit my room. Tristan's room is exactly the same as mine. If these are guest rooms, I wonder what the master one looks like.
Actually, no. I don't want to know what it looks like. Let's keep Prince at an arm's distance. I've already had enough problems with trusting people who shouldn't be trusted.
Hand in hand, Tristan and I walk down corridors and up long flights of stairs that get me gasping for air like a drowning victim. Tristan offers to carry me, and I almost accept but come on. One day I'll have to get fit again. With all the running I've been doing these days, I need it as soon as possible.
We find a library, smelling of musty books and soft leather. Love seats and easy chairs that look like heaven call for me. Tristan gapes as bad as I do, but we manage to walk past. The garden curls around the cathedral, changing, adapting to the architecture. Some trees have entered through windows and balconies, curling into entire rooms, taking the place of humans and fae. Some of these rooms are covered with fallen leaves, oranges and browns and intense reds. Other trees have the bright green of early summer. The magic in here is strong, permeating everything. Magic is the only way to explain how every season exists in the same building when out there we're tiptoeing into Winter.
The corridors smell like something citric, but not lemon, nor orange. The smell keeps nagging at me until we find our way into the kitchen. Everyone there is so busy, bustling around carrying trays filled with food I've never seen, that they don't even bat an eye in our direction. And Tristan is so big he has to duck to pass the doors.
We decide to climb higher, and we take the stairs to the tallest tower. I have to swallow my dignity and stop every now and then to rest. I could lie and say it's because of my healing ribs, but Tristan's so honest with me I don't want him to hear anything but the truth coming out of my mouth.
We're giddy and proud and in awe when we reach the top. The green sea of trees below us stretches on and on to the south, and the sun prepares to set on the west, painting the trees orange like liquid gold. I hook my arm around Tristan's waist and he slowly, gently, puts his arm around my shoulders. We stand there in amazed silence, just watching.
"This place is beautiful," I breathe out. "I wonder where we are."
And then I turn to the north, and everything changes. The smile drops from my face, and my eyes go round as I take in the changing scene in front of me.
The green pastures and trees pause for a long stretch of nothing. Beaten road or sand, I can't descry from up here. At the end of it, at the very horizon, I see the dark hues and the dead colors of a sick forest. Fog so thick we can't tell the trees apart envelops everything, rising toward the sky and creating a thick screen all the way to the heavens. If I squint, I can see the silhouette of distant, gigantic mountains.