“They’d never accept it,” he whispers.
“Exactly! Jontun must’ve omitted Loretta from his records to protect both his king and her.” I take a step forward. He’s on the cusp of admitting it. I can feel it. But then Ruvan shakes his head slowly and a cold sweat covers my body at his expression. Dread has come to keep us company.
“King Solos could’ve had any woman he desired from the elite of Tempost. There’s no possible way he would select a human.”
I still. “What do you mean by that?”
Ruvan brings his eyes to me; they’re conflicted. The muscles in his neck tense as he swallows hard. He doesn’t answer.
“What do you mean when you say there’s ‘no possible way King Solos would select a human?’”
“Even if Jontun’s writings weren’t the whole picture, there’s truth in them. There must be… Everything we’ve ever known… King Solos would’ve never chosen a human.” Ruvan is interested in looking anywhere else but me.
“Because a human isn’t good enough?”
“Floriane, I didn’t mean—”
“Then tell me what you meant.” I close the gap between us. All the anger, frustration, and hurt I felt when I first arrived at this place is returning. Except, now it’s worse. Because now I care about him. Now I want him to want me because I want him—because of all this hope he’s insisted on filling me with.
Ruvan squares off against me. “Solos was a different time. Humans were young in the world, only recently made by the dryads.”
“So?”
“Their magics were seen as less than ours.”
“So you’ve hinted. Which I find odd since the vampir were the weak ones who were only confident going out around the full moon.”
Ruvan scowls slightly at my jab. “I never claimed it was fair or right. The opposite, if you have any interest in my opinion at all. Really, you should be grateful Solos didn’t make one a bloodsworn. Who knows what he might have done to her to uncover the truth of the blood lore.”
“Unless Solos wasn’t the man you thought,” I insist.
“Not every piece of our history is a lie.”
“Well a lot of it hasn’t been true. A lot of it doesn’t even make sense! Why can’t you see the gaping holes in it?” I point to the altar. “You say blood lore—true blood lore—relies on blood that is freely given. Does that seem like a magic craft that would be created by a man who kept humans like cattle?”
There’s a flash of genuine doubt in Ruvan’s eyes, but he quickly smothers it. “Just because the humans have been telling you lies since birth and embracing them doesn’t mean we have done that to our own. You might be three thousand years away from the death of Solos and the Fade. But I was born only one hundred years after Solos died. I grew up with tales of the great king from people who knew him. The man was brilliant, extraordinary,” Ruvan snaps.
“A great, extraordinary man who, according to you and the precious, perfect history that you refuse to question, used and abused humans,” I snap.
“I didn’t mean—extraordinary as in—” He fumbles over his words.
“I don’t know what you mean right now, but it’s not reason.” I shake my head and start for the stairs.
“Floriane.” He tries for my hand but I pull it away.
“Don’t follow me.”
“Don’t be like this.” Ruvan’s eyes are wounded. I imagine mine are, too.
I stop at the stairs and sigh. One last chance. “Ruvan, if we end the curse and you become king, will you still have me as your bloodsworn?”
“What?” He staggers. “Would you even want to be?”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“But what you want matters.”
“Fine, assume I do.” I look him dead in the eyes, pinning him to the spot. “If all the vampir were awake. If you would face all their judgment for keeping me—a human—at your side, would you still be bloodsworn with me?”
