Page 112 of Awakened

Caelan pushes back from the table and stands, positioning himself right behind her. He places one hand on her shoulder and the other on the back of her chair, like a knight guarding a queen.

An image appears in my mind’s eye, like a memory from another life. Idril on a throne, long silver hair streaming down her back in gentle waves, set off by a delicate white-gold crown with five brilliant gemstones adorning it. Figures stand, guarding her back—but their features are blurry, and the image is gone before I can decipher who they were.

Where the hell did that come from?

I’m left with an odd feeling—almost like that moment’s been overlaid in reality on top of this one. That feeling only intensifies as her lips part, and she speaks, for the first time since arriving in the War Room.

And everyone listens.

“I’ve made myself small for you for weeks, Daxen.” Her gaze sweeps the table. “For all of you.”

Her eyes return to me, drilling deep like she can see inside my soul. “But especially for you.”

She swallows thickly, takes a deep breath, and straightens her spine.

“I obeyed. Never complained. Never talked back. Never asked for more than I was given.” She lifts a hand, reaching for Caelan over her shoulder. She’s shaking. Clearly terrified. But… she’s speaking anyway.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to beg someone to believe you? To tell the truth—to tell strangers the very real, very terrible story of your life and what you’ve gone through—and for them to laugh in your face while they call you a liar and hold your life in their hands?”

Her lower lip trembles and she bites down on it hard. Her lashes flutter, tears falling from her eyes and slipping down her cheeks. Inside of me, something else cracks apart and turns to ash.

Caelan’s fingers spasm, tightening on her shoulder, like a part of him can’t bear to hear anymore.

“You call yourselves his brothers,” she whispers, and for the first time, real anger slips into her tone—but not for herself. For Caelan.

“I told you. I told you so many times that we had a Bond. That he was my Mate. But you were all so sure I was lying that no one considered what might happen if I was telling the truth. Not one of you spared a thought for how that might affect him.”

She shakes her head in disappointment. More tears fall, carving paths down her cheek and making her blue eyes impossibly brighter.

“He trusted you. He had so much faith in you. You didn’t protect me, and that’s fine.”

The way she waves her hand like she’s waving away the notion of being cared for as something ridiculous punches me in the gut.

“I didn’t expect protection,” she says. “At first I hoped for kindness, but quickly realized how delusional it was to wish for even that much. How I was treated was unacceptable, but I knew when Silas dragged me out of my father’s house—before we even drove off the property—that something was very wrong and somehow, all of this was going to fall on my shoulders.”

Her breath hitches.

“I didn’t expect you to treat me with kindness. I didn’t expect you to treat me fairly.” Her features harden. “But he did.”

Her words knock the air from my lungs. She straightens her shoulders, curling her hands into fists in her lap as her gaze bounces from me to Vae, to Gavran, then Silas as she speaks.

“When Caelan and I were surrounded, and I was sure we were going to die, he promised me that his Pack was coming to save us. To take us both away from there. Away from my father. He promised a future where I never again had to be afraid to exist. To live in constant fear of being punished and starved and beaten. And for a little while, I believed in that future. I believed, because his faith in you was so strong—so absolute—it felt impossible not to.”

Her voice is so soft by the time she admits that last part that I wonder if she even realizes she spoke it out loud. There’s a throbbing ache in my sternum. My throat tightens, and it’s clear I’m not the only one affected by her words. Branwen’s eyes are bright with tears. Next to her, Riven’s expression is hard, jaw clenched in rage. Silas hasn’t looked up since she started to speak, and even Gav’s face has drained of color.

Idril doesn’t notice any of it. She hasn’t looked up from her lap since her last surge of strength, but she seems determined to continue. Despite everything I thought I knew, I find myself respecting her bravery. Wanting to protect it—to protect her.

Fates… I am so fucked up.

“None of you owe me anything outside of what your honor demands.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Gavran visibly flinch.

“As far as I’m concerned, none of you betrayed me. You can’t betray someone if you never promise them anything to begin with. And that’s exactly what you delivered. Nothing.”

Fuck.

“But—” She inhales sharply and looks up, eyes bright with anger. “You did betray Caelan.”