Page 103 of The Stolen Throne
He wanted me to run off to the desert, abandon the politics to my sister, and live my life with him.
“If I’d been there—”
“You’d probably be dead.”
He snorts a derisive sound that is so Cain, I crack a smile.
His hand sneaks into mine. “I made wrong choices, and now I see the way you look at him. You used to look at me that way, at least a little bit. Like I was your hero.”
I lean closer, willing him to hear me. “You still are. Always.”
Which is when my scar freezes so icy cold it burns and I have to hide a grunt of reaction.
Cain’s familiar smile holds no humor. “I may always be your hero, Mer, but you’ve never looked at me like you do at him. He’s not just a hero to you, he’s…”
Everything.
Neither of us says it.
I blow out a breath. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
His hand tightens over mine. “You love me,” he insists. “He’s come along and confused things, and yeah, you’re a queen and all—”
Princess. I don’t correct him.
“But you love me. You always have.”
“Cain—”
He holds up a tiny glass rosebud, and any words I might have said die in my throat. I made that. Made it and dropped it one night in the desert. I knew he had it, but…
“This is my reminder that we will always be important to each other.”
Oh, Cain.
“And even if you say no, I want you to have something from me.” Out of a pocket, he produces the golden bracelet—the golden cuff etched with the symbol of a sand fox, Cain’s family sigil. The one he already tried to propose to me with…twice. He slips it on me before I can stop him.
We both stare at it, and he runs his thumb over the smooth, surprisingly light metal.
“Choose me.” His words are so soft I have to lean closer to catch them.
Forget cold—the shadows that connect me to Reven go numb. Not like when I’m cut off. This is like how I felt just after our fight with Eidolon, when I was alone. Like the pain of all that had happened was too much to take and so the only way I could deal with it was to not feel it at all. I almost run from the room to go find Reven, but I can’t leave Cain right now. I owe him this moment.
He’s searching my eyes with a desperate kind of hope that is cracking my heart into pieces. “I’ll be good to you,” he insists. “I’ll spend my life keeping you safe, making you happy. I’ll fight at your side if I have to, take down Eidolon, and then we can live. Live, Meren. I know, in time, I can make you forget him—”
“Cain.” His name is a weary sigh.
When Reven kidnapped me, Cain was the only one who followed, who tried to save me. He went after Reven in the woods and faced those shadows, also for me. I know that.
Looking at him now, mangled because of me, a thousand different memories bubble to the surface.
Learning to make a shelter out of sand. Playing the funny stone game that makes him so competitive. Getting him to laugh after I won. Watching with my heart in my throat the first time he competed in Sher Eshine. It’s a brutal competition Wanderers play as soon as they reach the age of reason, wrestling on horseback. He has a hoof-shaped scar on his back from that first year he joined in the games.
It would be so easy to love him. To build a life with him. I can see it, our future together after Eidolon falls. Once upon a time, it was all I wanted, but what I felt for Cain was a young girl’s need to escape her destiny, and his was the only friendly hand being extended.
He must see what I can’t say in my eyes, because he lets out a long, harsh breath. “Don’t answer,” he says. “Don’t…”
I don’t speak.
