“She didn’t tell you?”
“Do I need to talk to Oraya now to find out what’s going on inside that head of yours?”
Mische didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned against the wall, slid down it, and perched on a pile of rock, her head in her hands.
The guilt was immediate.
I sat down next to her, even though the rocks were so low to the ground that I ended up ridiculously curled up on myself. I peered at her face between tendrils of honey hair.
“Mish,” I murmured. “I—”
“It was him.”
The three words came out in a single breath. So fast they ran together and it took a minute for me to untangle them.
“Him,” I repeated.
And she lifted her head, and she looked at me with those big eyes filled with rage and tears, and I just fucking knew.
Every shred of my frustration fell away. Every single emotion, every thought, every sensation disappeared, save for the utter all-consuming rage.
“Him?” I said, again.
She nodded.
The image of the Shadowborn prince unfolded in my mind. The Shadowborn prince, who I’d invited into my castle. I’d talked to him. Laughed with him. Fed him fucking delicacies.
And then, that memory was replaced by another one. Mische, as I had found her all those years ago. Pale and thin and sun-scorched, vomit crusted to her lips, left in the dirt like a discarded toy.
When she was in the throes of her fever, she’d just kept saying, over and over again, “What’s happening? What’s happening?”
She had been so damned young. Practically a child. And she had been so, so afraid.
That had been a long time ago.
But I never forgot it. Not really. I still saw that version of her sometimes, even though I knew she’d hate it if she knew that. I saw it the night of the Moon Palace attack, when I’d scraped her up off the floor among all that Nightfire. I saw it every time I glimpsed the burn scars on her arms. And I saw it now.
And that man—that fucking monster—had done that to her.
I had smiled at that prick.
“I shouldn’t have killed him,” Mische was saying, though I was so furious I barely heard her. “It was careless, I—”
“What the fuck do you mean, you shouldn’t have killed him?” My fists were clenched so tight they shook. I probably looked ridiculous, hunched over on this stupid little rock, shaking like a madman. “I’d say I should have killed him, but I’m glad you got to be the one to do it.”
She averted her eyes, staring at the ground. “I just—snapped.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? The minute he walked through the door, Mische, I—”
“I didn’t know,” she said weakly. “I didn’t know who he was. Not until I saw his face.” She shuddered. “I used to think a lot about what it would be like to meet him again. But I used to be afraid I wouldn’t remember. It was all fuzzy. I was so sick.”
I remembered that well. That first year, after Mische had recovered, she’d had an intense, paranoid fear that any man she met could have been the one who Turned her. She didn’t remember her maker’s face or name, so, in a cruel twist of fate, that meant he was everywhere—every passing stranger on the street.
“Well.” She laughed darkly. “I knew. I knew it right away.”
I was quiet. It hurt—actually hurt—to think that Mische hadn’t been spared that. I hated Neculai, and what I hated most of all was the innate connection I’d had to him as the man who Turned me. He made himself the center of my entire world not only because my survival hinged solely on him, but also because he had literally created me.
Some intrinsic bond—no, shackle—existed in that relationship for vampires. It made you feel small and dirty and ashamed.
I hated that Mische knew what that was.
“He knew me, too, I think,” she said. “Well. Not really. I don’t think he remembered me. But he… noticed me. Maybe he smelled himself on me.”
And she had been up in that apartment. Given to him, probably, by either Simon or Septimus, who noticed his interest in her—who wanted to bribe him to stick around and witness their grand ascension to power. Maybe buy themselves an ally.
I didn’t even want to ask. Didn’t want to make her relive the answer. But I had to.
“Mish, did he—”
“No,” she said quickly. “No. Maybe… maybe he would have, but…”
But he ended up with Mische’s sword through his heart.