The Centaur Queen (The Dark Queens #7)(63)

“I’m sorry, sister,” I whispered, voice cracking as I said it. “I’m so sorry. I’m just—”

Leaning her shoulder into to mine, she said, “I’ve been trying to understand how this could have happened to you. Why you would even do it after what Tronos did to me, after he betrayed me that way. I was so angry at you for being as foolish as I.”

I trembled. “You are wrong, Myra. Tymanon is nothing like Tronos. She is my other half.”

“But we weren’t built to have them. I know that now, and you should not have forgotten,” she chided gently.

I twirled on my seat, startling her. “Maybe that’s a lie, just like so many other things have been lies. We may not be able to bind souls as most others in Kingdom, but I would pit my love for Tymanon against any of theirs.” I gestured with a thumb over my shoulder toward the rest of Kingdom. “Love doesn’t need a magical element to exist, Myra, or to keep us honest to one another. I love Tymanon despite it all, and I know she loves me.”

She swallowed hard, framing my face with her hands, lightly tracing the beard I’d given free reign to grow in the past few weeks. Myra had grown so much in the time we’d been apart. Gone was the carefree youth I once knew. In her place was a mature woman who’d seen heartache and was intimately familiar with its pain. She rarely smiled now, and it cut me to see the sparkle missing from her.

“I’m beginning to see that.”

I scooted around until I was able to lay my head on her shoulder. She patted me, running her fingers lazily over my small horns. I’d sliced them off when I’d lost her, sure I would never again know pleasure in my life, sure that I would never again want it. It was a way for me to do penance for my part in Myra’s pain. I’d cut off the one part of me that made me truly me, a sacrifice I hadn’t regretted then, or even now.

I never again wanted to be the man I’d once been—callous, selfish, and vain. That life, which had once been all things to me, was now nothing but vapors, a bubble easily popped, a mirage that held no substance or even meaning. I’d had no purpose. I’d been directionless, pursuing only that which had given me temporary pleasure, but quickly boring and moving on.

“What made you choose Tronos, Myr?” I looked up at her.

She thinned her shell-pink lips to a razor-thin line.

“What made you break away from our traditions? What made you brave enough to say ‘This is not the life for me?’ You could have had any one of the herd as your mate. You’ve always been much admired. So why? Why an ogre hybrid? What was it about Tronos that made you brave enough to throw it all away?”

The hand that had been running through my hair stilled before dropping to her lap as she clenched and unclenched her fingers.

“You bring up memories that wound me deeply, Pétrapos.”

I shook my head. “Forgive me—”

She placed three fingers against my mouth, shushing me. “Nothing to forgive, brother.”

The air smelled thick and sweet with the scent of flowers and her perfume. Being with Myra was more wonderful than I could have hoped.

My sister and I had grown, not just close again, but closer than we’d ever been. I’d asked her about her life in Gnósi and she’d asked me about my time without her. She’d been astonished by the changes in Kingdom.

She and I were still many realms away from our homelands, but I had no doubt that, just like the rest of Kingdom, everything had changed there too. This castle was a temporary haven, but one we’d need to leave soon.

The fairies had given the all clear. No more wild magick roamed the hills. It was now safe for all us refugees to leave. But though Ty and I hadn’t stayed here long, memories of her were tied to this place.

Leaving here would be like leaving her. And so I stayed, even as person after person packed up and left. No one would force us out, but I knew the servants were beginning to wonder what held two satyrs here.

It wasn’t fair to Myra.

This was not her land. These were not her people. She’d been exiled after choosing Tronos, but they would take her back so long as she returned alone, not that I thought that fate any better for her. Neither Myra nor I belonged to that place anymore, but neither did we belong here. Tomorrow morning, we must decide where to go.

“I left because I loved him. It was as simple as that,” she said softly, shrugging with a helpless look, before laughing under her breath. “The worst of it is, there are still equal parts hate and love for him inside me, even after what he did to me, even after his betrayal. Tronos was my first love, and a part of me thinks I’ll never forget him, no matter how much I might want to.”

I nodded. “The loving, the hurt, it never goes away, not completely. Does it?”

She patted my knee, looking back at Fable’s shrine. “I wish I could say yes. Though in my case—” she inhaled deeply “—Tronos was not worthy of my heart. I know that now. I threw my love at someone who never understood how to treasure me. I have no one to blame for this heartache but me and my own impetuous nature. But you were never like me, Pétrapos. You were always the proper satyr, exactly as you should be...”

“Except now,” I finished for her at her slight hesitation.

“Except now,” she agreed.

“I cannot explain what losing you did to me, Myra.”