Metal bars swing wide as my one and only visitor makes another appearance. I hold out my arm, not shifting my unblinking gaze from the flickering torch light on the wall.

  In my peripheral, I notice he pauses at the door, glancing down at the bowl of stew. “I know I mean nothing to you but maybe try eating for the man you do love. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to see you starve.”

  I break my staring contest with the torch and lift heavy eyes to Jaxon who kneels beside me in this dingy cell. His expression is perfect. Not a thing out of place. Perfectly austere. He finishes tying off the fresh wrapping along my upper arm. Even with Eli’s perfect stitching job, he insists on checking and cleaning the bandage every day but I imagine it’s Ivan forcing him down here. After everything I did to Jaxon, I thought at the very least he would be rough with me, but then again, it is Jaxon.

  My gaze falls to his side, where I drove the dagger in. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  He no longer wears any weapons on his person. Probably takes them off, especially for me. Not that it matters. I’ve had my fill of stabbing people, plus I’m pretty sure Ivan would kill Thomas if I tried to escape.

  His eyes harden. “There is more than one way to injure a man, Miss Volkov.” He stands to go. “The dagger never really hurt me.”

  I don’t know why I’m surprised. Jaxon is a genuinely good man and I took advantage of that. To be honest when I made my plan I doubted it would work because it all depended on Jaxon caring about me and he always seemed so guarded. But in the end, he turned out to be the perfect target.

  After he leaves, I find myself staring at the food left for me. I hate it but Jaxon is right. Eli wouldn’t want me to starve. He tried so hard to save me back then when I was starving. It almost feels like an insult to everything he’s done for me to give up now. So I’ll try to keep going. For him.

  My stomach rebels at first but after a few bites, it gets easier. Halfway into the meal, I can’t take anymore and I push the bowl away but it’s good enough. My body warms as it digests the food and I hug my middle under the blankets.

  The next day Jaxon bends down, peering inside the bowl and I glimpse a hint of surprise.

  “My compliments to the chief.”

  That usual, unyielding look softens.

  “Were you concerned about me?” I ask.

  “You’re the commander’s sister. If you starve to death it would cause me problems I’d rather not deal with.”

  I resist a smile at the harsh words. They are well deserved, after all. “Understandable. Just so you know, a human can survive much longer than a week and a half without food.” I pull my knees up, resting my hands on them. “Two months” I stick out two fingers. “That's about the limit. Or at least it’s mine. Of course…” I shrug a shoulder. “Maybe this time I could last longer.”

  He wants to know. It’s written all over his face. His mask may be perfect but it always slips with genuine shock. I don’t know why I want to tell him. I think I just need to talk to someone. At least Jol, for all his neglect, would talk to me but down here in solitary confinement there is nothing. No one. It drives a person to a particular kind of desperation.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  I rest the side of my head against my knees and watch Jaxon with exhausted eyes. “Do you still want to know what happened to me before I reached New Haven?”

  ~~~

  Jaxon listens well. His eyes are patient, locked in on mine. He asks questions occasionally, leaving comments here or there. He enjoyed the part where I nearly sent Eli down the ravine a little too much, smiling and throwing a jab my way—something about me having a habit of trying to kill well-intentioned men.

  He frowns when I get to the part with the Chief and how he dangled me over the ravine. The frown deepens when I say what the Chief tried to do to me after that.

  It’s strange. I never imagined myself sitting here, recounting all these horrible events with such apathy. As if I were describing someone else’s life rather than my own. What’s stranger is who I’m recounting it to. The enemy. But then again, maybe it’s more accurate to say I’m his enemy. I did stab him. And all he’s ever done to me is follow orders—my brother’s orders.

  When I describe Jol and explain the months of insanity, starvation, and how I had to sing to survive like some kind of canary in a cage, Jaxon grows quiet. I don’t look over; I hate pity and I’d rather not risk seeing it in his eyes. He is pretty good at keeping that perfect guise of indifference, but the sudden stillness in the room raises my suspicions. Instead, I keep my eyes nailed to my fingers, prying at a hole in the knees of my pants.

  I finish with a shrug. “You see why I didn’t say anything? Even after all that, I doubt Ivan would have given his blessing between Eli and me. So it doesn’t matter now, not really.”

  Jaxon is quiet. Too quiet. As if holding back words like he thinks they can hurt me. The thought sends irritation flairing to life inside me. I was right. He does pity me.

  “What? Spit it out, or are you afraid I’ll beat you up from behind these bars if I don’t like what you have to say?”

  He raises an annoyed brow. “In a way you are right. I don’t think anything can change your brother’s opinion of Eli. But it might have softened him to you if he knew what you’ve gone through.”

  “Oh good.” I snap back. “So at least my brother would like me a little more as he runs around killing the people I love.”

  Jaxon’s face sours and he goes quiet again. Boy, am I bitter. I heave a short sigh of regret.

  “I know you mean well. But there can be no repairing things between my brother and me." My jaw tightens. "Not unless he lets me leave, which he will never do.”

  Anger burns with my last words even as tears prickle my eyes. I turn away, wiping at them viciously and swallowing a lump in my throat. I hate this. Hate how weak I am. I might be trapped down here but at the very least I could keep from crying in front of Jaxon. Jaxon of all people.

  “For what it’s worth, while the Eli you described is far different from the one I’ve heard of, I’ve always believed people can change for the better. And I’m glad he was there to protect you.”

  His tone is gentle. Sincere.

  I wait for the lump in my throat to pass. Jaxon never changes. Somehow, he’s still kind. If he was anyone else, I wouldn’t believe it was possible. The chaos swirling inside me settles.

  I turn my head, meeting his gaze with a tired smile. “Thanks, Jaxon.”

  Jaxon smiles back. It’s small. Barely a smile at all. In fact, it’s more a look in his eyes than anything else. But it’s there.

  He turns to go when I stop him with a question. “Is Thomas…is he okay?”

  A long pause and I think he might just keep going—leave without answering. But then he looks down, glances over his shoulder and says quietly, “Yes.”