CHAPTER THIRTY #2
It’s been haunting me. There must be some larger plan at play. Some reason he thought it better strategically to keep my interference in the second trial a secret. But I can’t think of a tactical advantage for not seizing a permanent victory.
Kaidren cocks his head to one side, bemused. “Praeceptor Kyler would have been eliminated, but you would have gone to prison.”
I pause, waiting for him to continue. He doesn’t. I frown. “So?”
“So, I don’t want to ruin your life, Remira.”
I can’t help scoffing. “Since when?”
“I recently went to the library and looked into some of the orders your brother has written since taking the throne. I hadn’t read them before, so I didn’t know all the details, but imagine my shock when I saw that most of them mentioned Ophera.
Someone wrote provisions to fund resources and schools.
That same someone snuck them into orders that were completely unrelated so they’d pass. Any idea who that might be?”
I’m even more confused than I was before I asked. “That’s why you didn’t turn me in?”
“I realized that my fight isn’t with you. It’s with your brother. You fight Lucien’s battles, and you take on all the risk. You bear the brunt of the penalty and receive none of the reward.”
“I know that. What does that have to do with the Tournament?”
Kaidren’s eyes drop briefly to my wrist, and I realize the direction of his thoughts. I yank down my sleeve with a glare. “You spared me because you pity me?”
“No, I don’t,” he says quickly.
The heat that rushes through me burns, more than anything else. After everything, he still doesn’t see me as an opponent, just some fragile, pathetic creature that needs protection.
Kaidren must read the fury in my eyes because he stands from the bed and reaches for me—I think to comfort me—but I jump back. “Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry.” He holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “I feel for you. Not pity you.”
“I don’t care if you feel for me.”
“How would you like me to feel about you, Remira?”
I speak before I’ve thought through my answer. “I want you to respect me. See me as an opponent so formidable, you want to destroy me.”
“I have limits. Is there no line you wouldn’t cross? If our roles were reversed, surely you wouldn’t ruin my life to win.”
“I’d ruin your life for free.”
“These games we play are one thing. But to destroy a person . . .” Kaidren’s eyes search mine intently. “I don’t believe you’d do that.”
Maybe he’s right and there is a difference. What I’ve done so far—soiling Kaidren’s name and reputation, defaming him in Eteria, defeating him in the first trial—hasn’t ruined him. At the end of it all, Kaidren is still an Honorate.
That’s the difference between us: in this race for power, we are starting from two different places. At his core, Kaidren is an Honorate. I have to earn the right to matter, even if it’s just a fraction as much as he does. Every scrap of authority I have was fought for and won.
If Kaidren loses, he’ll still have his title. If I lose, I have nothing. Less than nothing. The difference between me and Kaidren Vale is I can’t ruin him. Not really.
I step away from his intensity and drop my gaze to the floor. “Maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. Guess you’ll find out.”
His hand twitches at his side, but he doesn’t move it. “Fine. Then it’s your turn. One true thing.”
He mentioned my mother, and she’s always fresh on my mind, so I say, “My mother named me after her favorite star.”
He smiles softly. Not that over-wide, overused smile. A small, genuine one that warms his gaze and my heart. “I didn’t know there was a star called Remira.”
“There isn’t.” My tone is lighter now, and I catch myself smiling back.
Because when Kaidren Vale is a real person, he is devastatingly handsome.
Because I remember Aja telling me the origins of my name as though it was yesterday.
“She didn’t know anything about the names of stars, but when she was lonely, she’d make them up.
She named the brightest star in the sky Remira. When I was born, she gave me its name.”
Aja told me it was so I’d never be lonely. As always, she was lying. In truth, it was so she never would be. So she could look up at the sky and always have me with her.
“That’s sweet,” Kaidren says.
That was Aja. Sweet to a fault. Generous and trusting to her own detriment.
She gave too much of herself. She lost her parents when she was young, and loneliness was a void she was constantly trying to fill.
All she ever did was give more and more of herself away.
It cost her everything. Cost both of us everything.
My smile fades.
Kaidren is still watching me. “Where did you go just now?”
I shake off the memories. “Nowhere. But I am now. Leaving, that is.” I turn for the door—planning to kick the damn thing down if it means getting out of here.
“Wait.” Kaidren hurries to stand beside me. “How would you feel about having dinner with me and my aunt?”
I’m surprised by the invitation and even more surprised by how naturally he extends it. “You still eat here?”
“Virdei is lonely. I like it here. And my aunt is good company.”
“You could just invite her to Virdei.”
“She hates it there.”
His aunt has excellent taste.
“Care to join us?” he says.
“No.”
Kaidren’s sweet smile turns oily, and his warm tone chills with civility. “You know, I’ve been really kind about the fact that you snuck in here up until now. I’m an Honorate. I imagine the decurio would be very interested to learn someone broke into my home.”
My eyes narrow. “Is that a threat?”
“No.” His smile stretches wide. “It’s an observation accompanying an invitation you can’t decline.”