The words didn’t register at first. They hovered in the air and echoed in my ears like a curse.
“You want me to marry Syva?” I repeated, pushing myself off the bed. “Why not just throw me into a pit of fire while you’re at it?”
“Do not mock me, Calix.”
“I’m not mocking you. I’m mocking the absurdity of your idea.”
“You laid hands on her. There must be restitution.”
I dragged a hand through my hair, pacing now. My muscles were tight, and I didn’t know if I wanted to scream or shift—or both.
“Why are you all acting like I killed her?” I asked.
“If you had,” he said, folding his arms behind his back, “this would be a very different conversation.”
Right. What would they have done? Execute me? Exile me? Or worse—strip me of my title and toss me into the Underrealm to rot beside the curs
