33. Escape | Lyra #2
Oh. That made sense. It had always felt older here, and now that she was back, it reminded her of the serenity she had felt beneath the ancient willow.
There must be a ley line there, too.
“The water feels warmer than is usually is this time of year,” she said quietly.
She didn’t know why she was even trying to make conversation with him, but he must have gotten the idea because he sat up.
“It is,” he nodded. “Yet another challenge that I’m dealing with.”
Lyra snorted. There wasn’t anything he could do about the changing of the seasons, but he could do plenty about the threats they were facing from all sides.
“What?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.
“You can’t change the water. Why don’t you do something actually useful like get rid of Aegir, or help me unbind the fucking Tidal Tithe?”
Drystan leaned back on his elbows and swished his tail in lazy strokes. “You seem to think I’m not doing anything at all.”
She threw up her hands. “Well, are you?”
He turned his attention to the reef and clownfish that swam by.
“I’m not … infallible,” he said slowly. “I’ve never ruled before.”
It sounded eerily as if he were admitting to making mistakes.
“Then why did you take the throne in the first place?” she snapped. “Things were fine before you killed my father.”
His expression turned brittle as his lips thinned. “You call being tortured and ordered to murder—fine?”
Lyra ground her teeth. “I merely mean there wasn’t an abundance of hostility in our kingdom before you took over.”
Drystan scoffed. “There was. It just wasn’t visible to you. You were never allowed in meetings.”
“Aegir is stirring up resentment outside the council room,” she countered.
“You cannot blame me for things that were set in motion before I took the throne. Your father is the one who ordained Aegir and proliferated the ritual of Tidal Tithe. But that is not what pushed me to usurp him,” his words trailed off as if he hadn’t meant to say them.
“What could be worse than Aegir?” She snorted, with a shake of her head.
“What he did—to you.”
Lyra’s brow arched. “Are you insinuating you took over the thrown as retaliation for my torture?”
Drystan looked down at his hands before nodding. “If he could be so cruel to his own flesh, what would have stopped him from being cruel to the kingdom?”
“You’re lying,” Lyra said, shaking her head. “You were just as cruel!” She lifted her arms so that the silver scars on the underside were now visible.
His eyes flashed. “I was a bully, yes?—”
“A bully? You scarred me!”
Drystan shoved off the ledge so that he was upright before her. “I reacted without thinking. There is no excuse. But do you even remember what it was that you said to me?”
She stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror. “No.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I do. You told me that I should count myself blessed by Ennosidas, that I, a worthless, useless nobody from a backwater territory, had the privilege, nay, the honor of being in your presence.” He spat the words out like they were rotten and then pinched the bridge of his nose.
“And then something about you hoping my manhood would shrivel up and die.” He waved the rest of the words away as if they were of no consequence.
Lyra choked back a laugh. “I do remember that now, and I still hope it does.”
She stared pointedly at his lower half.
Drystan shook his head, opening his palms and studying the lines there. “You don’t know what it’s like to come from a place like Ithicais, Lyra.” His voice turned gravely. “To not know where your next meal will come from or if you will wind up one.”
He turned away from her. “Fear wasn’t a spark of adrenaline every now and again, but a constant,” he slammed his fist against his chest, “steady thrum in your blood. A reminder that death lingered in every shadow.”
She swallowed a retort and listened, actually listened to him.
“To be thought of as nothing more than spare parts, or used as bait for monsters.” He shook his head. “I’m not denying that you haven’t faced your own struggles. I’m just saying maybe you were so absorbed in your own suffering you haven’t been able to imagine anyone else’s.”
His words felt like tiny pebbles hurled at her, each one leaving a small mark. He was right.
Lyra knew nothing about his life or why he was the way he was.
A rough upbringing did explain his tendency towards violence, but it still didn’t excuse it.
She opened her mouth to tell him that, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.
“I’m not making an excuse for my actions.
Merely trying to explain that your words, though intended to harm, actually wounded me deeply.
It was all my worst thoughts about myself hurled in my face.
I reacted poorly.” He shook his head as if summoning the words.
“I reacted without any emotional intelligence, and for that, I apologize.”
Her heart beat steadily in her chest, but any thoughts she had previously to his words had fled her mind.
Had he just apologized?
No. She was imagining things.
The bargain must be distorting her senses again.
Lyra stared and stared at him as if expecting him to burst into laughter and claim it was all a big joke.
His eyes roved across her face before settling on her lips. “Are you listening?”
She found it difficult to look away, much less answer, so she settled on a nod.
He sighed and leaned against the ledge beside her. She curled her tail tighter to her body, her fins floating in the current.
“You had once told me I was incapable of loving anyone but myself,” he began with a chuckle. “The truth is, I don’t think I’ve ever been capable of loving myself, not when you were around, always making me feel inferior.”
“I made you feel inferior?” She reeled back.
That couldn’t be further from the truth. He had constantly flaunted his superiority at her with every opportunity.
He had been older, faster, stronger, a better student, and a male.
“Of course,” he said. “No one has ever been as clever or as witty as you. You were born into wealth, and are the most breathtakingly beautiful mermaid in all the seven seas. And I—I was just a poor prince’s son from a backwater territory that everyone equates to brainless brutes.”
She scoffed, but he wasn’t wrong.
No one held a high opinion of Ithicias, least of all her. She struggled to find a reason for him to tell her all of this.
“I’m glad we could have this time together before the wedding. I hope it’s brought you some solace.” His smile was small at first before it grew wider, darkening the dimple in his chin.
The pieces fell into place. He had tried to win her over by force before and had failed.
Now he was trying his hand at sympathy. Lyra scowled at him.
“Have I said something wrong?” His smile fell away, and his brow furrowed with what he probably intended to reflect concern.
She shoved off the ledge before whirling on him.
“Haven’t you done enough?” Lyra’s chest heaved with her sharp inhale.
“You bullied me, bartered me away to further your goals, and then ripped me away from the only man who has ever loved me. All the while murdering my father and dismantling our kingdom. And now—now you sink to sway my opinion by falsely claiming to be the victim in all this?” She pointed at him with one steely talon. “You are a monster.”
With each of her accusations, he had raised himself up. His lips parted to defend himself, and anguish swept across his eyes.
It was a farce.
It had to be a farce.
“I have told you nothing but the truth,” he snarled, jutting a finger back in her direction.
“You can’t possibly expect me to believe you when you have done nothing but lie to me!”
He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a look at her. “When? When have I lied to you? I’ve kept things from you, sure. But I have never lied to you.”
She opened her mouth to refute his claims, yet she drew up short.
She couldn’t remember a time when he had lied to her.
But she had lied to him.
“Exactly,” he spat. “I may be a lot of things you find to be heinous. But everything, every action, every choice, has been for you. You chewed me up and spit me out, and instead of hating you. I rebuilt myself into something better—something strong. All of it for you.”
He had floated towards her so close, they were almost touching.
His chest heaved, and with every breath, he almost grazed her.
“I know you don’t love me. That you might not ever, and if I wouldn’t stop you—you’d run right back to him,” he choked back a snarl. “But please, just let me love you.”