Page 106 of The Crimson Throne
Fury prickles at the edge of my consciousness. I could give in; I could surrender, let the anger take me.
My blackouts always came when I was livid. I’d come to having decimated someone.
That was because I’m a Red Cap.
It’s who I am.
The thought of it again—this is who I am—chokes off my anger in a rush. I don’t want to be this.I don’t want to be this—so much so that theache overpowers my flare of rage, and I rub at my chest, hating myself, slumped on the ground.
Moyra grins at me. “Good on you. Just because you’re a Red Cap doesn’t mean you have to be a mindless killing machine, does it?” She cocks her head. Then repeats, harder, “Does it?”
My nose curls. “No.”
Moyra looks at Alyth. “Hm. Is that your play? Easier to fight the Red Caps if you’ve got one trained at your heel?”
That makes Alyth, who’d been staring down at me, snap her head up. “Thank you, Moyra. Our bargain is complete. Nothing else is owed.”
She’s glaring at Moyra, her jaw bulging.
Moyra smiles again, a knife’s edge to it. “All right, lass. If you need me, you know how to find me.” She turns that smile on me, all teeth and taunting. “Have fun.”
I blink.
And the hut’s gone.
We’re outside again, in the middle of the bog, winter air frigid around us. The sun’s lower in the sky now, and somewhere, a bird caws lonesomely.
Alyth doesn’t move. I’m kneeling in frozen grass now at her feet, and I stay in that position.
I see her mind working; she’s watching me in that way she gets, reading my aura.
She’s…calm.
Too calm.
She’s wanted to kill me more times than not. When she brought Kitty and the brownies to my room and they held me to the wall, I saw my end in her eyes.
An end I rightfully deserve.
If I’m this dangerous. If what I do isn’t something that can be removed from me. If I’m a Red Cap, something I’m not even sure I entirely understand yet, but I’ve seen their weapons, seen their handiwork. I’vebeentheir handiwork, apparently.
I exhale, stuttering and sharp, and nod once. It’s all the strength I have left in me.
“It’s all right,” I manage through my dry throat. “It’s all right, Alyth. I know what you have to do.”
I rest my hands palm up on my thighs, and a tear burns its way down my cheek.
A long moment of silence falls. I swear even the wind goes quiet.
Alyth stares down at me, all hardened stone. Resolve, that’s what she is. Resolve to do what she must.
“And what do you think I have to do?” she asks, still too bloody calm.
I frown up at her. “You have to—” I get stuck on the word but force it out anyway. “You have to kill me. I’m the enemy—”
“Are you?” Alyth lurches closer, the first show of something other than that confusing calmness. “Are you my enemy? Because you’ve promised me repeatedly you’re not. You wanted to work with me. You convinced me to let you help, and you’ve done nothing to counter that from the very beginning. You swore yourself to me. Are you, Samson, a threat to me?”
It’s demanding. Harsh and biting. I can’t do anything but answer.
