Grim
The room was silent. The Wildling carefully handed the knife back to Cronan. She stepped over the body and quietly returned to her seat.
Cronan looked pleased.
“It seems she might be turned yet,” one of the heads of planets said. “You were right, my liege.”
“Of course, I was,” Cronan said. “I told you she would see the benefits of joining me.” He returned to his place at the head of the table and raised his glass. She returned the gesture.
They drank, and Grim watched the crimson wine stain her lips.
Even when the conversation at the table resumed, Grim couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to her. What game was she playing? With her bleeding heart, she didn’t seem the type to kill an innocent woman like that.
You don’t know her, he reminded himself. All this proved was that she was unpredictable, a stone-cold killer if she needed to be. Capable of killing even someone she swore she loved.
But from where she leaned back in her chair, he noticed her smile did not reach her eyes.
For the first time, he wished he had mind abilities, like Cronan.
He wished he could sense more than just her emotions.
Her aura was paler than before, as if drained of its essence.
Where she had once been fiery and fierce, she was now gray and hollow.
Had Cronan . . . broken her? Had Grim’s behavior made her realize that she stood no chance at getting him to side with her against his ancestor?
Had she truly chosen to join them?
The image of her slitting the woman’s throat, her eyes hard and cruel, remained seared in Grim’s mind, even hours later. He told himself he only cared because she would be the one to kill him if he wasn’t careful . . .
So he needed to know if she was working on a plan against him.
It was late at night before he portaled down into the prisons. He wasn’t even sure what he was going to do. Interrogate her right then and there? Try to get her to admit why she did it?
He was rounding the corner, when he heard it. Her.
She was crying. Her sorrow swept over him, thick as fog.
He knew for certain then that the entire display at dinner had been a facade. But even Cronan had believed it . . . which meant that she had kept part of her mind hidden from him.
Without powers.
But why kill the woman, then? In order to make Cronan believe she was on his side?
He suddenly remembered something Cronan had said. That the Wildling’s flair was absorption. Had she killed the woman to keep her alive, somehow?
Was she hoping there was a way to bring her back?
It was the only explanation for her current suffering. Grim knew he should relay this to Cronan the way he had before, to show her again that her blind belief in him was useless.
But as he listened to her sobs, Grim couldn’t stomach betraying her again. Not after she had healed his arm. Not after she had done something about the innocent deaths, when he had sat back like a coward.
It was something about her defiance and her quiet strength, about her foolish faith and unwavering loyalty to him that had him striding back toward his chambers instead of the galaxy room. And creating a temporary shadow barrier around her cell so the knights wouldn’t hear her.