In the Veins of the Drowning(59)

“I’m out of the rain.” I took the bottle by its neck and tugged. He let me have it. “Now you can tell me what’s wrong.”

A nettled grumble filled his chest. “You won’t let me keep this to myself, will you?”

The light drops of rain had become a deluge. It roared against the leaves. I took a sip of wine. “You always panic when the Mage Seer is mentioned. Lachlan told me you were scared before we left. And now you’re guzzling wine from the bottle like you wished you were at the bottom of it. It’s unsettling. And I don’t need to be unsettled before this ritual. So, no. I will not let you keep it to yourself.”

“My story won’t settle you in the least.”

“That won’t get you out of telling me.”

He blew out a long breath. His fingers brushed my own as he reached for the wine and took one more gulp. “I was last here seven years ago. At my father’s behest. He hid it, but my father was born with very little power. And he was not very skilled in wielding what he did have. Only the Gods know why.” He brought the bottle to his lips, took another deep drink. “It was a source of deep shame for him. And I can understand why now—he was the only son of a Great God. By all accounts he should have been his father’s equal, or close to it. I, on the other hand, was given a great deal of power… like his father. It was always a sore point between us. He pushed me to master myself, my power. None of my hard work seemed to be enough. It took years for me to understand that he envied me, perhaps worse. When I was twenty, he decided he wanted to perform a ritual of transference. He wanted to give me what little power he had, add it to the power I already possessed, and have me ascend to the throne. He said he was unfit compared to me.”

He sat so quiet, for so long, that I thought he’d decided against telling me more. I leaned against him in encouragement.

“I didn’t want to be king,” he finally said. “But he dragged me here anyway, to the Mage Seer. We performed the ritual.” We sat in silence. “The ritual of transference… it takes the life of the giver.”

My body flexed in surprise.

Hurt laced his voice. “I left that little hut in the middle of the night, having watched my father die a horrific death, with a crown I did not want, with power I did not want—and with a stolen bottle of the Mage Seer’s poison in my pocket. The poison she uses for the prophecies and rituals she performs.” He stared through the shelter’s opening, to the dark shore before us. “I couldn’t take his body back with me. I… I drank the bottle of poison empty, right there on that beach while my head was still clouded from the ritual smoke.”

I didn’t realize I’d gripped his leg until his fingers bumped over my knuckles. He turned my hand over and ran a finger over the web of white scars on my palm.

“Days later I woke up in a room I didn’t recognize. An older couple—Hector and Antonia—nursed me back to health. They live not far from here. Eftan ruled in my stead and allowed me to convalesce for a handful of months out here.” He held up the wine bottle. “I learned to make this wine. Learned to cook Varian wildland dishes. Gardened, and mucked horse stalls, and washed clothing. I mourned my father. My freedom. But I’d also never been so content. I still visit them often.” His voice snagged. “They’ve become parents to me, in a way.”

“And now you’re back here because of me.” My stomach sank low. “I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He shook his head emphatically, twisting to face me. “Don’t go searching for more guilt to pile atop yourself.” His eyes were intent on mine. “I chose this. I agreed to it. Neither one of us knew it would have come to this.” His free hand rose to my jaw and the tips of his fingers dragged across its edge. “And even if I had known…”

The space between my racing heart and ribs squeezed. Even with his pretty words, I felt scheming and selfish and wicked. Utterly undeserving of the understanding and care that Theodore bestowed upon me. I reared back, away from his touch.

His look hardened. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” I said quietly. “I’m tired.”

“Imogen?”

Something in me snapped. “I’m going inside the Mage Seer’s hut alone. I’ll get the draught, and then we’ll find a safe place to perform the severance after I’ve left her.”

His handsome face, that had been open and tender, broke into a scowl. “Is this a joke?”

“No.” I blinked frantically as a sting began at the back of my eyes.

The rain beat loudly. His brows lowered; his jaw ticced once, twice. “If you think I’m letting you walk into that hut alone—” He scraped a hand through his wet hair. “What’s come over you? Is this some twisted form of pity?”

“No.”

“Are you upset I touched you?”

“What? No.”

He stilled. Only his broad chest rose and fell as his gaze dragged over my face. “No?”

“I’m…” I shook my head. “I’m embarrassed. You have given me so much care when I haven’t done a thing to earn or deserve it, and I’ve hurt you in return.” I clamped my mouth against my rambling. “But, no, I’m not upset you touched me.”