Chapter 33 Claeg
They see strength, but Eleos, I am weak. The prince literally couldn’t feel pain. That explained his strength, his resilience. And perhaps he was telling the truth, intending to free the draconis and take over as De Vita. I scoffed at the thought of us being on the same side. This man was weak: he had admitted as much himself. But I couldn’t deny that he was also a survivor.
I absently traced the scars up his arms, memorizing their pathways. They were unique, forming an identity and telling a story. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, his dark eyelashes fluttering but remaining closed. It was tempting to continue and let myself forgive him, but I already walked a dangerous line. I froze, my fingers still on his flesh. My heart pounded at being caught. The prince was still a player in their captivity. Intending to release them or not, he had still failed to provide them with decent care while here.
“I don’t know . . . I don’t know what…” My fingers curled into a fist with a huff. “You make me want to release myself from the chains that bind me. And that scares me, Stas,” I whispered. “The chains are all I know. What if without them I lose who I am?” My lip trembled. I didn’t dare look into his eyes. I didn’t want to see whatever I would find there—pity, resentment, confusion.
His hand grazed mine, slowly wrapping itself around me as if asking for permission. I relaxed my knotted fingers. “Look at me, Eleos,” Stas whispered. For a moment I refused, but only a moment. When I looked up, I saw none of the emotions I had expected, only understanding, and that hurt more than any other. “I see the chains you wear. Let me help you carry them, prince of mercy.” The term made me suck in a sharp breath. He squeezed my hand, bringing my fingers to his lips. “If we must break to free ourselves, let us break together.” His eyes were soft, a pale moon, unshaded by clouds but raw and vulnerable. My heart thrashed against my ribcage, begging me to free it.
“Stas…You do not know what you ask. My Janardan…” I was so close to revealing the truth. My purpose. No, he knew of that. But my intentions . . . I inhaled sharply, my heart tearing in two. Traitor. I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed to fly. To think. My heart twisted, and I forced my weakened body to don my crumpled trousers. Anastasius didn’t press further, just studied me, waiting for me to speak. “I need to fly,” I said, limping over toward the door. The walk through the castle was excruciating despite the numbing salves plastered all over my body, but eventually we arrived at the prince’s balcony. When I shifted and flew away, he didn’t follow. It was a risk, leaving his side. Odon could order Calian to recapture me. It was surprising he hadn’t been my shadow lately, but it didn’t matter. I wasn’t afraid. My enemy hadn’t earned the privilege of owning my fear or my respect.