Rokath drew me into his dark, broody aura. “Will you live by Kiira’s rules and never speak of your past?”

Disbelief at her suggestion opened my mouth to retort faster than my brain could tell me to hold my tongue. “Are you serious? The only thing I want less than to be your mate is to be a priestess.”

The High Priestess whipped her head around. “And what is so wrong with being a priestess?”

“As if you’d listen to anything I’d have to say,” I laughed, shaking my head. The flavor of the decadent food turned bitter across my tongue. “You lead them all. Why don’t you tell me what I should like about it?”

Again, she cocked her head to the side, and the males held their breath, waiting for this battle to play out. “You’d be surprised. I am an adept listener. It’s the only way to call these males out when they are lusting for too much blood.” Kiira’s tone was icy and her words slithered like a dangerous snake. “So tell me, Assyria, why do you not want to be a priestess?”

“Because I don’t want to abuse people like I was abused,” I snapped, dropping my dining ware, the clatter against the polished plate pricking my ears. Heat licked its way up my spine and I couldn’t stop the words from spewing out of my mouth. I was fucking tired—from not sleeping, from this constant ache in my tattered heart, from always being treated like I was less than because of what was between my legs. “Because I don’t want to watch other females be assaulted by their unwanted husbands for the sake of more children for the Kral.” I cut a glare at him, uncaring of the insult to the ruler of the Demons. “Because I don’t want to be trapped somewhere I don’t want to be ever again. I had enough of that at the hands of my abusive husband.”

Kiira and Xannirin, to their credit, kept smooth, unreadable expressions painted on their faces.

“And therein lies my dilemma,” Rokath growled, bracing his arms on the table and leaning toward me. “You admitted last night you’d rather die than be with me. But I can’t allow you to wander off into the world, vulnerable to attack. So either way, you have to be watched at all times.”

“Yes, because I am your weakness.” My nails bit into my palms as I braced my forearms and leaned in his direction too. His eyes flicked to my curled lips. “Because everything in this fucking world is about males, with no regard for how that affects us. So I have to surrender my life, again, to some male who doesn’t even want me, all for his protection. Because let’s be honest with one another. You aren’t protecting me. You’re protecting yourself.”

And then, the tears did overflow, cresting over my cheeks and falling against the table with violent splatters. Izgath died protecting me, and Rokath never would.

“As he should,” Kral Xannirin snapped, slapping the table with enough force that the dining ware jumped. “Without Rokath, we cannot win this war. And if we do not win this war, then we will all die. Do you know the extent of the Angel’s beliefs? Koron Stadiel will not rest until every Demon is dead. So yes, Rokath needs to keep you safe and protected because his life stands in the way of the rest of us being dead too.”

The vehemence in his words slammed into me, sending my selfish thoughts careening. I knew, on an intellectual level, that the Angels wanted that. That they’d do anything to get to that. But to hear the Kral frame the consequences in that way made my rage-filled words fizzle out like smoke captured by the wind.

I’d be sentencing thousands of others to the suffering I experienced day in and day out, until none of us were left to feel at all.

Could I really allow that to happen simply to spite the path that had been woven for me? Deep down, I knew I was better than that. Yet all I wanted was to feel like someone gave a fuck about me in all of this. Clearly, that expectation was far out of the realm of possibility.

Like I was blowing out the flames burning in my chest, I sighed, “Fine. What would you have me do?”

Rokath’s burgundy eyes swept over me as he leaned back, and the entire room seemed to release a breath as we relaxed again. Bracing an elbow against the arm of his chair, he ran two fingers over his lips, thinking. “My conditions are these: you must be guarded at all times, and you must not reveal your true identity, especially that we are mated, to anyone.”

I raised a skeptical brow. “Am I really supposed to believe that you’d let me have any semblance of choice?”

He shrugged, then sipped from his glass of juice.

“Can I return to Stryi?” I asked, trying to keep the hope from my voice.

“What is left for you there?”

Olrus.

“Family,” I replied coolly.

“Lying will not win you any favors.”

“Get out of my head!”

“Stryi is relatively safe, given it is across the Graz River from the Angel Realm, and far enough south that you’d really have a fuck up for me to be in danger,” I commented, though my tone held a sharp, snarky edge.

Rapp barked a laugh. “She has a point there, Rokath.” Yet, he wore a smug grin that told me he knew Rokath would refuse.

Rokath dropped his drink on the table and used the tips of his fingers to rub his jaw. “No. I don’t trust anyone, especially an untried Kormánzó, with your protection,” he finally said, reaching for the glass again.

“So, what you’re saying is that Assyria has no choice but to stay with you since you won’t trust anyone else,” Rapp snorted. His tongue fiddled with the ring in his lip as he leaned back in his chair.

Rokath offered him a side-eyed glare, though it lacked the heat he’d offered me numerous times despite knowing each other for less than a day. “She could remain here, in Uzhhorod, either in Gyor or at Varbad. There are plenty of trained soldiers, and plenty for her to do without putting herself at risk.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “And if I choose to remain at Gyor Palace, what then? I waste away in hiding?”

I’d tasted freedom, and I wasn’t certain I could return to a life like I’d had with Vagach.

“I’m sure we can find something for you to do,” Kiira offered gently, her earlier iciness seeming to melt away as if she sensed my defeated attitude. A flicker of curiosity crossed my mind. Had she ever felt the same? Trapped beneath these males? Did she force piety and purity on us because that was what they wanted?

Yet she held more power than any other female in the whole realm, even more than those born into noble houses. What did she know of life for a female at the bottom of society? From her lack of veil, it was clear she wasn’t subject to the same rules as us.

Rokath hadn’t offered me one either when he brought me clothing. Did these new rules—or lack thereof—apply to me too?

Bracing my elbows on the table, I cradled my head, pressing my palms into my eyes as I tried to think. This wasn’t what I wanted, wasn’t what I had worked for, wasn’t the life I had hoped for, by any means. But it could be worse. They could be planning my execution. They could lock me in a cell beneath the palace and throw away the key. Rokath was offering me a meager helping of control over my life, and one that involved high access and luxuries I never had before becoming the wife of a Kormánzó—perhaps even more than we had in Stryi.

Lifting my gaze, I scanned the four of them, searching for any glimmer of hope.

But Rokath’s eyes had hardened as he seemed to roll over ideas in his mind.

“I changed my mind. I can’t risk anyone else protecting her. You’re coming with me,” he growled, and the viciousness in his tone told me there was no room for argument.

I did anyway, because fuck, this was my life too. Just because we were mates didn’t mean I would surrender to his whims without making my needs known. I didn’t know him, and I couldn’t trust him to take care of me. “I’d rather be anywhere else.”