Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

“Gods,” I rasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “Why would you— ? Wait.” A new kind of horror rose. “Why would the King be displeased with you deciding not to destroy Archwood?”

The Prince eyed me for several moments. “Because destroying the city would be easier.”

“Easier?” I whispered, bumping into the legs of a couch. “Killing and dislocating thousands of innocent people is easier?”

“It’s less of a risk to the Hyhborn forces. Very few if any would be lost in . . . removing Archwood as possible leverage,” he said, arms folded across his chest. “Our knights will die defending the city.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, even if I shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t like I believed King Euros cared all that much for lowborn, but this was . . . it was brutal in his lack of caring. “So, the lives of lowborn mean that little to our king?”

The Prince said nothing.

A biting laugh burned my throat as anger flooded me. “Is this what happened to Astoria then? You were sent in, as judge and executioner?”

“Astoria was something else entirely,” he said, features sharpening. “The city was already lost.”

“Does the reason for destruction matter?” I questioned.

He was quiet again.

I inhaled deeply. “How many people have you killed?”

“Too many.” The brown in his eyes darkened to a pitch black and spread over the rest of the colors, and I would’ve sworn the temperature of the chamber had dropped. “But just so you know, neither I nor my knights sack the cities that have fallen. We do not lift our weapons against those people. We do not kill indiscriminately. What deaths have occurred happened in spite of all we have done to prevent it.”

“You mean those deaths occurred because the people who lived in these towns fought back? To protect their homes and livelihoods? Do you expect them not to?”

“I would expect nothing less from them,” he said.

Suddenly cold, I wrapped my arms over my waist. “How many cities has our king decided weren’t worth the precious lives of Hyhborn?” I asked, thinking of the small villages and towns that had disappeared over the years.

“Too many,” he repeated flatly. “And far more than that would be lost if I sided with the King in every situation.” His head tilted. “What? Do you think I can disobey the King’s orders? I am a prince, and he is the King. Choice is limited, even for someone like me.”

I stared at him, a part of me understanding that he was just another cog in the wheel— albeit a very powerful cog. I drew in a shaky breath. “What makes you decide which city is worth your protection and which one is to be sentenced to death? Better yet, why would you save Archwood after what was done to you?”

A muscle flexed along his jaw as he looked away. “You.”

“What?”

“There’s no one answer for why when it comes to other places, but for here? It was you. Your bravery. I figured that if you were that brave, then surely there were others like you.”

“Others that would fight back?”

“That is another question you already know the answer to.” The black faded from his eyes as the blue and green hues reappeared. “In a way, I’m glad that I was poisoned. If I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have found you.”

But you found me before.Those words whispered along my tongue but didn’t make it past my lips. Swallowing what my intuition wouldn’t allow me to speak, I looked to the window. In the distance, I saw the glowing sōls.

“Do you finally think of me as a monster?”

I closed my eyes.

“You should,” he said softly. “The blood that is on my hands will never wash off. I wouldn’t even attempt to do so.”

A faint shudder worked its way through me, the heaviness of his words speaking the guilt and maybe even the pain he carried. Should it be only his hands that bore that stain? Or the King’s? Because he was right. Choice was limited. Everyone answered to someone, even the King. It was said he answered to the gods, but the Prince still had a choice. “What would happen if the King wasn’t just displeased with your decision but demanded that you destroy the city anyway? And you refused?”

“War,” he answered. “The kind that would make what is brewing in the Westlands seem like nothing more than a skirmish to be forgotten.”

My breath caught. “You’re talking about the Great War,” I whispered.

He nodded, and a moment passed. “Do you know what the realm was like before the Great War?”

“Not really.”

“Most don’t.” Prince Thorne returned to the credenza and poured himself another drink. “Would you like another?”

I shook my head.

He replaced the topper. “By the time the realm was stable enough after the Great War for anyone to begin chronicling the histories, all who could remember what it was like had long since passed, taking with them the memories of thousands and thousands of years of civilization. It was decided that it was best all of it was forgotten.”

“Were you . . . alive during that time?”

“No. I was created shortly after, with the knowledge of what had come to pass.” He went to the window, the angles of his face tense as he peered out. “In our language, the Great War was called the Revelations.”

A chill slipped down my spine.

“Hyhborn have always been around, in the background, watching and teaching. Protecting not just man but the lands itself,” he said. “We were known as many things throughout history, worshipped as gods at one point, called the fair folk of the forests— nymphs and magical beings from another realm— for a time.” He laughed quietly. “Others believed us to be elementals— spirits that embodied nature. Some believed us to be angels, servants of one god, while others saw us as demons— both written in scriptures by mortals who barely understood the visions and premonitions that they had.”

Air slowly leaked from my parted lips. Did he speak of visions similar to those I had?

“I suppose the first of the Deminyens were all of those things in different ways. Each name given fit in some way.” He took a drink. “Either way, the Deminyens were ancient, Calista. As old as the realm itself. They were here when the first mortal was given life, and I imagine we will be here long after the last passes.”

Another shiver curled its way down my spine as I moved to the couch and sat on the edge.

“Time is unrelenting, though, and even Deminyens are not immune to its effects.” Prince Thorne eyed me as he drank. “And while in the beginning the Deminyens interacted with mortals, there came a time when that was not something that could continue. Deminyens moved more into the role of watcher, but they began to lose their connection to those they protected. The wisest of the Deminyens— his name was Mycheil— saw the dangers in that. He was already seeing it in others. How time was changing them, making them colder, less empathetic and humane. Accidents began to happen.”

“What do you mean by accidents?”

“Deaths.” His lips twisted in a wry grin. “The causes varied. Sometimes it was simply fright from seeing a Deminyen that took a life of a mortal. Other times it was due to the Deminyens attempting to stop a mortal from doing something that would either bring harm to the many or to the lands, and at that time, striking a mortal . . . it was unheard of.”

“Well, that’s definitely changed,” I muttered.

“Yes, it has.” He finished off his drink, placing it on the credenza. “Mycheil knew that it was time for his brethren to step back from mankind, to rest in hopes that when they reawakened, they’d be renewed. So, he ordered them to go to ground, to sleep, and they did. For centuries, becoming nothing more than forgotten myths and legends to most and unknown ancestors of others.”

I picked up a soft, plush pillow and cradled it to my chest. “What . . . what happened?”

Prince Thorne didn’t answer for a long moment. “Time continued. The world before this one? The world that fell? It was so much more advanced. Buildings that stretched as tall as mountains. Food was rarely hunted, but raised or engineered. Cities that were connected by roads and bridges that spanned miles. Streets that were clogged with powered vehicles instead of carriages, and steel cages that took to the air, transporting people across the seas. The world was not like this.”

What he was saying sounded implausible and impossible to even fathom, but Hyhborn . . . they couldn’t lie.

“Those great buildings replaced the trees and destroyed entire forests, the machinery choked the air, and ease of life pushed creatures all across the world into the brink of extinction or beyond. All of it came at a cost. The world was dying, and mortals were either incapable of changing their ways or didn’t want to. The reasons really don’t matter, because all that destruction awoke the Hyhborn. Those ancients tried to warn the people, but too few had listened, and too few of the reawakened Deminyens had returned with a renewed connection with man. Too many began to see them as a scourge upon this earth. A plague that needed to be culled, and that’s what they did. Over half of the Deminyens turned on man, believing that they should be stripped of their freedom, convinced it was the only way to save them and the world, and as others attempted to defend the rights of man— that’s when the war started. It was between Hyhborn. Their fighting shook the earth until the buildings fell, whipped the wind, sending fire through cities, and raised the oceans, swallowing . . . swallowing entire continents. Mortals were just caught in the cross fire.”

“Continents?” I whispered.

“There used to be seven— large swaths of lands surrounded by vast bodies of water,” he said. “There are no longer seven.”

My gods. I squeezed the pillow tighter.

“Mortals weren’t completely innocent of what occurred. After all, their actions, their selfishness and willful ignorance, are what woke the Hyhborn, but none of them deserved to face such wrath, such ruin.” He looked at me. “The Great War didn’t just end lives. It reshaped the world completely.”

I tried to process all of that, but I didn’t think it was something I ever could. “There are Deminyens now who were a part of that world, right?”

“A few. There were steep losses on both sides.”

“The King?”

Prince Thorne faced me. “He was alive then.”

“And what side was he on?” I asked, half afraid.

“Both? Many of the Deminyens who survived were those who existed somewhere in the middle. They believed that mortals needed to be protected but could not be trusted to rule the lands. That left alone or given any real power, they would repeat history.”

Sometimes I thought that we lowborn couldn’t be trusted to carry a pitcher of water without spilling it, but to say we would repeat history was unfair when that history was unknown to us. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure.” A wry grin appeared. “It truly varies from day to day.” His eyes met mine. “But what I do know is that kind of war cannot come to pass again. Mortals would not survive it, and everything must be done to prevent that from happening.”

“So, it’s what then?” I rose, dropping the pillow where I sat. “Sacrifice the few to save the many? Is that what obeying the King’s orders really means?”

“In the most simplified terms? Yes.” He watched me. “There is a reason why most mortals do not know the history of their realm.”

“Because if they did know, they would fear the Hyhborn?”

He nodded. “More than many already do.”

Chilled, I ran my hands over my arms. I wasn’t so sure that was the only reason the history was kept secret. Perhaps the King and those who ruled didn’t want us to have the chance to do and be better than we had done and been before. “That’s a lot to take in.”

“I know.”

“I suppose ignorance is bliss,” I murmured.

“Knowledge rarely makes things easier.” He inhaled deeply. “What I shared with you? It is forbidden to do so.”

I looked over at him. “Then why would you?”

“Yet again, I don’t know.” He laughed. “I think I felt the need to explain why I’ve done the things that I have, because it feels . . .” He frowned. “It feels important that you understand that I’m not . . .”

That he wasn’t a monster.

I drew in a ragged breath. I didn’t know what to think. Was he a monster? Possibly. He claimed to feel no compassion and laid waste to cities at the King’s orders, but he carried the weight of the King’s orders. I could see that even now.

I did know that he was neither bad nor good. Nor was I, and I didn’t need my intuition to confirm any of that or to know he saved those he could and mourned those he couldn’t.

“If you wish to leave, Calista, I will not stop you. I wouldn’t even blame you,” Prince Thorne said, drawing my gaze to him. “That I promise.”

Nodding, I backed up and turned from him, because that was . . . that was what I thought I needed to do. I crossed the space, the feel of his stare burning into my back. I reached the door, wrapping my fingers around the handle. It turned in my grasp. The door cracked open. My heart began to pound as I stared at the thin opening. I was frozen, at war with myself, because I . . .

I didn’t want to leave.

Despite the fact that I should, and despite what I’d learned, I wanted to stay, and I knew what it meant if I did— what I was agreeing to. The kind of company he wanted didn’t involve me teaching him the intricacies of consent or continuing to argue about only the gods knew what. He wanted me. My body. I wanted him. His body.

Why couldn’t I have that?

There was no reason, except a . . . a keen sense of nervousness, because staying inexplicably felt like more.

Because it wasn’t just pleasure I sought if I stayed with him. It was the companionship. His seeming unexplainable trust in me. The complexity of who and what he was. It was also the quiet I found with him.

Closing the door, I turned to see him standing where I’d left him. Our gazes locked, and I thought I saw a hint of surprise in his features.

Slowly, he extended his hand. My chest felt too tight and too loose at the same time. I didn’t feel the cool floor beneath my feet as I walked forward. His eyes never left mine as I lifted my trembling hand and placed it into his. The contact of my palm against his was a shock to the senses, and as his fingers threaded through mine, my intuition was silent, but somehow I knew that nothing would ever be the same after this moment, after tonight.