"Tell me, Aria," he said, swirling the liquid in his glass like it was her life he held between his fingers. "Has Kael ever mentioned a man named Ivan?"
My blood ran cold.
He saw the flicker in my expression, the barest slip in my face and smiled like a wolf catching the scent of blood.
"I thought so."
He leaned back, so leisurely, so pleased with himself. "Back when Kael still believed he could outrun his blood, he ran off to join the army. Naïve little rebellion, really. Trying to be something else. Someone else. That's when he met Ivan."
My chest tightened.
"Ivan was gentle," he went on. "Persistent. Kind, even. And Kael… well, Kael was lonely. So they latched onto each other. For Kael, it was a lie he liked to tell himself. That he could love. That he was soft underneath all the blade and bone. But that's the problem with lies, Aria. They don't last."
