Atrius’s eyes glinted.
“But we have the help of a good seer,” he said, voicing what I didn’t yet say. “Someone who doesn’t rely on visibility at all.”
It was stupid. It was brilliant.
It was the best idea we had.
And Atrius and I were both grinning—grinning at this ridiculous glimmer of hope. Neither of us had to confirm aloud that we would do it. Of course we would. It was insane, and it was our only chance.
Atrius’s hand fell over mine, and the touch sobered me. Suddenly, the harsh realities of what I was about to do struck me, dizzying.
My smile faded.
Atrius took me in for a long moment. I heard the echo of his words—you see too much—because suddenly, I felt that he did, too.
“I have been thinking a lot, these last few months,” he said, “about what ruling this kingdom would look like.”
His hand flipped, palm up, so he was holding mine.
“I never intended to take this country away from its people,” he went on. “I had a pact to fulfill, yes, but I actually wanted to rule it. And rule it well. But no matter what my intentions are, I’m a foreigner. A vampire. I would need someone else beside me. Someone who represents the people I rule far more than I do.”
My lips parted.
For a minute I thought he was implying—but he couldn’t be saying—
I managed to choke out, “Are you asking me—”
“I’m not asking anything. I’m telling you that I would like that person to be you, Sylina. And you can do with that information what you will.”
I opened my mouth again. Closed it.
Weaver help me.
“I didn’t know you were so old-fashioned,” I said. “One fuck and suddenly you’re proposing marriage and crowns and—”
“Not marriage.” He blurted that out fast, then winced. “Not that I—What I meant was—”
It would have been more amusing to see Atrius flustered if I wasn’t also just as flustered.
He let out a breath. “This arrangement isn’t about me. It’s not about us. It’s a title that you deserve because you are a good leader. You are intelligent. You are compassionate. You know what the people of Glaea want and need. You have lived the lives of many here. And I know that if you were to be tasked with their well-being, you would advocate for the lives of these people until your dying breath. That makes you worthy of power, Vivi.” A wry twist of his lips. “And so damned few are.”
He said it so matter-of-factly, as if he was listing the contents of an inventory, and yet I could feel in his presence how deeply he believed them.
And when he used my old name—my real name—it was like an arrow right between my ribs, guilt flooding me like hot blood.
I wasn’t sure what I had done to make him think so highly of me. And I so desperately wanted to be the woman he thought I was.
I couldn’t speak. Weaver, I could barely even breathe. When I said nothing, he straightened and cleared his throat.
“You don’t have to decide anything now,” he said.
But I had decided.
In this moment, I decided all of it.
Atrius was our answer. Our path to finally overthrowing the Pythora King and making this damned kingdom what it was meant to be. He would be a good ruler. He would accept guidance from his people, human or not. I believed this.
I refused to let another soul wither under the Pythora King’s rule.
And I refused to kill Atrius.
I was no fool. I knew what this meant. When a Sister betrayed the Arachessen, she was carved into pieces and left throughout Glaea—damned to never be whole again, physically or spiritually.
I had only one bloodless path forward, and that was to try one last time to convince the Sightmother that Atrius could be a worthy ally.
And if that failed…
Well. Atrius had been prepared to sacrifice his life to his goddess to save his people.
I would be willing to make the same sacrifice.
Atrius was looking at me strangely, his brow furrowed. His thumb swept over my hand and I realized it was shaking.
“Vivi,” he said softly. That was it. Just my name, and in it, the question he didn’t ask.
For one powerful moment, I wanted to tell him all of it. The truth.
That was a selfish desire.
Because if I told Atrius the truth of why I had been sent here, that made me a traitor. And a wartime leader, when confronted with a traitor, only would have one choice. He would need to execute me. Even if he decided I was too important to sacrifice, he wouldn’t trust me, and he needed to trust me if he and his people were going to make it through the Zadra Pass alive.