Page 149 of In Rising Tides

Lyra ground her teeth. “I merely mean there wasn’t an abundance of hostility in our kingdom before you took over.”

Drystan scoffed. “There was. It just wasn’t visible to you. You were never allowed in meetings.”

“Aegir is stirring up resentment outside the council room,” she countered.

“You cannot blame me for things that were set in motion before I took the throne. Your father is the one who ordained Aegir and proliferated the ritual of Tidal Tithe. But that is not what pushed me to usurp him,” his words trailed off as if he hadn’t meant to say them.

“What could be worse than Aegir?” She snorted, with a shake of her head.

“What he did—to you.”

Lyra’s brow arched. “Are you insinuating you took over the thrown as retaliation for my torture?”

Drystan looked down at his hands before nodding. “If he could be so cruel to his own flesh, what would have stopped him from being cruel to the kingdom?”

“You’re lying,” Lyra said, shaking her head. “You were just as cruel!” She lifted her arms so that the silver scars on the underside were now visible.

His eyes flashed. “I was a bully, yes?—”

“A bully? You scarred me!”

Drystan shoved off the ledge so that he was upright before her. “I reacted without thinking. There is no excuse. But do you even remember what it was that you said to me?”

She stared at him with a mixture of shock and horror. “No.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I do. You told me that I should count myself blessed by Ennosidas, that I, a worthless, useless nobody from a backwater territory, had the privilege, nay, the honor of being in your presence.” He spat the words out like they were rotten and then pinched the bridge of his nose. “And then something about you hoping my manhood would shrivel up anddie.” He waved the rest of the words away as if they were of no consequence.

Lyra choked back a laugh. “I do remember that now, and I still hope it does.”

She stared pointedly at his lower half.

Drystan shook his head, opening his palms and studying the lines there. “You don’t know what it’s like to come from a place like Ithicais, Lyra.” His voice turned gravely. “To not know where your next meal will come from or if you will wind up one.”

He turned away from her. “Fear wasn’t a spark of adrenaline every now and again, but a constant,” he slammed his fist against his chest, “steady thrum in your blood. A reminder that death lingered in every shadow.”

She swallowed a retort and listened, actually listened to him.

“To be thought of as nothing more than spare parts, or used as bait for monsters.” He shook his head. “I’m not denying that you haven’t faced your own struggles. I’m just saying maybe you were so absorbed in your own suffering you haven’t been able to imagine anyone else’s.”

His words felt like tiny pebbles hurled at her, each one leaving a small mark. He was right.

Lyra knew nothing about his life or why he was the way he was.

A rough upbringing did explain his tendency towards violence, but it still didn’t excuse it.

She opened her mouth to tell him that, but he raised a hand, cutting her off.

“I’m not making an excuse for my actions. Merely trying to explain that your words, though intended to harm, actually wounded me deeply. It was all my worst thoughts about myself hurled in my face. I reacted poorly.” He shook his head as if summoning the words. “I reacted without any emotional intelligence, and for that, I apologize.”

Her heart beat steadily in her chest, but any thoughts she had previously to his words had fled her mind.

Had he just apologized?

No. She was imagining things.

The bargain must be distorting her senses again.

Lyra stared and stared at him as if expecting him to burst into laughter and claim it was all a big joke.