“Bloody for everyone,” I snapped.
“So you saw our defeat.”
My jaw clenched.
I couldn’t risk lying to Atrius again. If it was my own decision, I might take the risk. But the Sightmother had given me a direct command. I was not to sabotage him further.
Yet I couldn’t bring myself to answer his question.
The non-answer, it seemed, was answer enough. Atrius exhaled.
“I see,” he said.
He sounded a little relieved, and in this moment, I utterly despised him for that.
“The Pythora King’s warlords are not above using civilians as their shields,” I said. “You saw that in Alka.”
His eyes hardened. A faint echo of disgust shivered through his presence.
“I did.”
“You thought Aaves was bad? Aaves was a lazy nobody who stumbled onto his throne through corrupt incompetence. Tarkan is far, far worse.”
Atrius’s eyes narrowed. “You believe he needs to be treated as more of a threat.”
He sounded skeptical. Atrius, I had learned, was somewhat arrogant when it came to the skill of his military force.
I knew, logically, I couldn’t fault him for looking at all of this through that lens. Yet I resented him for it.
Atrius rose too, pacing along the edge of the sigils in the sand, scattering the impeccably drawn lines. “He has a large army,” he said, as if to himself. “Larger than most of the warlords. But from what I’ve seen, they’re unskilled. My warriors could handle them easily.”
My jaw tightened. I whirled around.
“Who do you think makes up Tarkan’s famous army?” I spat the word like it was a mockery, because it was. “It’s not an army. It’s a slave pit. You’re right, they’re unskilled. They’re unskilled because a third of them are children.”
I was showing too much. Letting my mask slip. That was a mistake.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted from Atrius, but what I got was… nothing. Just a flat stare.
Weaver help me. What did I expect? I knew what kind of atrocities went on in Obitraes. Such a thing probably didn’t seem so egregious to him.
I drew in a breath and let it out, collecting myself.
“You asked me to Threadwalk, and I did,” I said. “And what I saw is that it is a bad idea to attack Vasai with pure brute force. That’s all I can tell you.”
“Is it?”
Atrius approached me, one measured step after another.
“Yes,” I said.
“Did your vision show,” he said, slowly, as if every word was its own command, “that we wouldn’t win?”
He knew the answer, of course. Knew why I couldn’t bring myself to say it.
I bit my cheek for a long moment. Too long.
“We would win.” He answered his own question. “The bloodshed would be his.”
He sounded downright smug about it.
My fingernails cut half-moon marks in my palms. I wouldn’t beg a vampire for anything. Let alone a conqueror. I should let it go. Let him act. Let him win. Follow my orders, and earn his loyalty.
I just—couldn’t.
“You don’t want to rule over a dead kingdom,” I said. “I respect you for that.”
I paused, reconsidering. What did my respect mean to him?
“Your soldiers respect you for that,” I corrected. “I’ve seen that since the moment I arrived here. You can win by your strength alone. But, please, it’s—”
I bit my tongue. Please. Begging.
“It isn’t the wise way,” I said, at last.
He didn’t speak. I resisted the urge to shift beneath his stare, so steady it felt like he was peeling back layers of my skin.
“I intend to avoid meaningless bloodshed, but I don’t know what gave you the impression that I came here to avoid all of it,” he said finally. “I’m here to win. To take what your king doesn’t deserve. He took it by force, just as centuries of conquerors have before him. We evolve, but war is the same. It isn’t up to me to redefine that.”
I knew this. Knew it was a downright laughable idea that a Bloodborn conqueror, of all people, would be the one to take some kind of moral high ground.
And yet… why did some part of me think he would?
Why did some part of me think it would matter to him?
I didn’t say anything, letting the silence stretch on—letting Atrius fall into his obvious contemplation. After a long moment, a scowl flitted over his mouth, as if in reaction to a silent argument he’d been having with me in his head.