“Princess, wha—”
We both stop.
“You first,” she offers, reaching over to put her hand on mine. I stare at our hands for a moment, reveling in the touch before wrapping my hand around hers.
I nod. “Helena—Princess. We need to talk.”
She nods, her hand twisting in mine. I don’t let go. Another piece of myself knits itself back together as we sit there together. She says, “I agree. You start.”
Exhaling, I run my free hand through my hair. “Where do I even begin?” I murmur.
“How about the moment when you decided you weren’t going to murder me?” her voice is sharp, and it cuts through my thoughts.
“Okay. That’s a good idea.”
Biting my lip, I stare behind Helena’s head as I shift on the couch. A TV stretches across the back wall, the screen larger than anything I’ve ever seen. Still-life images flash across it in slow progression. I recognize some of them, but others are utterly foreign to me.
“Erik?”
“You have to know that I never wanted to kill you.”
“Oh? Good to know. You didn’twantto do it,” she says. Sarcasm, thick and heavy, drips from her words as she stares at me. Her eyes narrow, and a muscle flexes in her jaw. “Now that I know that, you’re instantly forgiven. Sure, you plotted with my father, took me away from my family, kept me on your ship, isolated me, and were getting ready to kill me. But it's okay since you didn’twantto do it.”
I return her glare. “You make it sound like I had a choice. I didn’t, not really.”
She yanks her hand out of mine, her eyes flashing as she snaps, “Erik. There isalwaysa choice.”
“Is there, though? People like to say there is always a choice, but they never clarify that some choices are shit.”
Huffing, she waves her hand in the air. “Explain it to me.”
Taking a deep breath, I flex my hands.“Most of my life has been decided by other people’s choices.”
A long moment passes as Helena simply looks at me. Her jaw is tight as her eyes sweep over me. “What are you talking about, Erik?”
I rub the back of my neck, avoiding her gaze. There’s an image of a snow-covered mountain on the TV screen, and I watch it as though it’s the most interesting thing I’ve ever seen. “I mean, not everyone has a choice. Do you think I chose to have my parents murdered in front of me? That I chose to lose my hand? That I chose to be taken in by a pirate and trained to be his replacement?”
“Wait, what?” Helena demands. "What about your parents?"
Shit.
“Just forget about it,” I sigh. “I didn’t mean to say that.”
“But you did.”
I stare at the TV and shake my head. My ragged breathing is the only sound in my ears.
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” she says. “But I want to know because I care about you. If you don’t want to tell me, then you can leave. I release you from your guilt and accept your apology. We don’t mean that much to each other, anyway.”
Something within me snaps at her words. Memories I’ve pushed away for years rush to the surface, and I turn toward her, my heart pounding. “You want to know what happened?”
She nods once.
“They were murdered by a pack of Daemons when I was nine. The pack stalked my family and killed my father so they could...assaultmy mother. They assaulted her like that son of a bitch Conrad wanted to do to you. And then when they were done with her, with my mother... Madeline was...”
She blinks, and the blood drains from her face. She is clearly too shocked to speak. I get it. What do you say to a story like this?
“I listened as they tortured her for hours on end.” My eyes close as the litany of jeers fills my ears. Saliva pools in my mouth. I don’t want to vomit, so I close my eyes and continue, “I stayed in a closet and listened to everything. Everything.” I take a deep breath, pushing through the rest of the story. “Helena, I was so scared, I pissed my pants. I didn’t leave until an older man came and rescued me. He brought me onto his ship and gave me a job as his cabin boy.”