I had been sitting on the window sill of Meilin's room, staring off at the rain thundering outside. I couldn't dispel the gruesome replays of that man's death and no matter how much I debated whether or not what Meilin did was something anyone with military authority would do, I couldn't come up with a way to justify his actions, no matter how justifiable they seemed in the face of war. Meilin hadn't entered the room at all, either because he knew I didn't want to be near him at this time, or because he was too busy to give me any thought.

Suddenly, there was a knocking on my door. I bristled and stiffly glanced over my shoulder to see that Commander Bohai had entered the room. He was frowning and he had a somewhat sheepish expression on his face. "Lady Daiyu, I—" He swallowed and rubbed the nape of his neck. "How are you feeling?"

I stared down at my clasped hands. "F-Fine."

"You weren't supposed to see that—any of that." He sighed loudly. "Meilin didn't want you to see him kill someone."

His words hit my chest and I trembled. "I'm terrified of him."

"He knows that," Bohai said with another dragged out sigh. "Listen, Lady Daiyu, anyone would deal with a traitor in that manner."

I nodded.

"You're a good judge of character, aren't you? I know there's mostly darkness in Meilin, but can't you see the small light in him?"

When I didn't speak, he sighed once more.

"Goodnight, Lady Daiyu."

I continued to stare out the window even after he left. I couldn't stop shivering and thinking back to that interaction. I had never seen someone die right before my eyes, so I could only imagine what it would be like to kill someone. Still, it was war and it was justifiable, right?

Squeezing my eyes shut, I knew that murdering someone couldn't be justifiable.

At least, at the moment I felt like it was. Then again, Atreus had killed all those people to protect me; did that make Atreus's actions justifiable? Wasn't I being hypocritical in thinking that the people Atreus killed in my favor were bad and therefore easily killed off, but Meilin's actions weren't because they had nothing to do with me?

Even as I tried to justify Meilin's actions, I couldn't stop from fearing him further. No matter what scenario or thoughts I came up with—even a few shedding light on Meilin—I couldn't stop from trembling as his dark eyes came to mind.

He is the way he is from the life he's lived, and I think you need to understand his life in order for you to feel more comfortable around him.

Atreus's words came to me and right when I was about to ponder on what to do, the door swung open and Meilin strolled inside. His dark eyes were cloudy and I couldn't read what he was thinking as he stood in the doorway. After a moment of staring at me, he shut the door behind him and loosened the collar of his shirt.

"You shouldn't look too petrified," he said with a frown. Unhooking his swords and daggers, he placed them on his desk before slipping out of his boots. Stretching his arms, he watched me with the corner of his eyes. "I'm going to sleep. You can either join me, sleep on the desk, or do whatever you please."

Before I could answer, he shrugged off his shirt and tossed it on his desk. He was about to go to bed but then I saw black markings on his hipbone, reaching down and disappearing below his pants. I could barely see what it was, since only the tip of it was visible. He noticed me watching and smiled wryly. "Interested in my body?"

Heat flushed my features and I turned away.

"Don't worry about the markings," he said as he yawned. Sitting on the bed, he scratched the back of his head before pulling out a chest from beneath the bed. He opened it quickly and yanked out a looser shirt, which he pulled on over his head. "Tattoos are common in many clans, tribes, and villages." He shrugged. "The only markings that you should be worried about are slave markings and I assure you, I do not have those."

I barely listened to his words.

He killed someone. Images of that man's sprawled, lifeless body flashed in my head and I squeezed my eyes shut, my hands trembling as fear parched my throat.

I had seen death enter a man's eyes, and it was because Meilin decided to end that man's life.

"You've never seen someone die?" he said quietly, his voice sounding louder in the silent room, shaking the little shred of calm that was nestled in my chest. I shivered at his question, staring at him with wide eyes and wondering how it was possible for him to be so nonchalant about killing someone. As if it wasn't a big deal.

I swallowed, bringing my shaking hands together and clutching onto them to stop my trembling. It didn't work and as I stared into his unfathomable eyes, I was frozen in fear and I couldn't stop thinking about Meilin killing that man. He had easily snapped his neck and pushed him away, as if that man was an insect and that killing him wasn't a big deal.

"No," I finally whispered, answering his question. "Not until . . . "

"Today," he finished for me.

I nodded, involuntarily shrinking back until my back was pressed against the cool glass window.

"I'm not really that surprised," he said with a shrug. He yawned once more, watching me with those predatory black eyes of his. His lethality clung onto him in a dark haze, his eyes windowing only a speck of the darkness within him. "I'm guessing you never saw someone kill another person."

The only time I had come close to seeing someone die was when one of the villagers in my village had accidentally run over a boy with his ox. The boy's legs were mangled and he was bleeding profusely, but he survived. Even then, I remembered crying and holding onto my older brother every time the nightmares of that boy came to me. It took me months to forget the image of his mauling.

"How can you kill so . . . casually?" I breathed the question before I could think better. I cringed when the words were out, my peace of mind precariously hanging on a thin thread that Meilin was close to clawing away.

His dark eyes were on me and for the longest moment he didn't say anything, as if he was assessing his words or thinking about what to say. Or maybe he was being thoughtful to try not to upset me. I wasn't sure as I stared at him and his unreadable gaze. "Killing isn't easy for most people. Most people are haunted with the images of the people they kill. I, on the other hand, don't really remember the faces of the people I've killed," he said honesty. He was watching me carefully, as if assessing my reaction. "It's not that I don't want to remember their faces, but more so that I just don't care to remember something as insignificant as that. Their faces, whether I remember them or not, will never haunt me."

"That's horrible."

"That's war and that's life."

"Not like that," I said with trembling fingers. Heng hadn't wanted to kill anyone even though he was a soldier, and he had even told me while crying, recounting the time he had taken someone's life on the battlefield. This . . . unemotional way of handling death wasn't . . . human. "War and life has nothing to do with mercilessly and thoughtlessly killing someone."

"War isn't for the weak hearted," he said calmly, his eyes growing hard. "You shouldn't even be here, little rabbit."

"You don't even remember their faces? Honestly? Is that the truth?" My voice was uneven and was brittle, my courage dwindling at the sight of him but my determination flaring.

Please be lying.

"I don't remember," he said coolly. "I don't even remember the face of my first kill, which should be memorable since it's the first time I ever ended a life."

All the color drained from my face and the back of my eyes burned. He was a monster. A terrible terrible monster.

The Dragon.

He was evil.

He must've seen the shift in my eyes because his gaze became darker, colder, and harder. His jaw was set and a muscle on his hand twitched. I thought he would hurt me right then and there, that he would lurch forward and strangle me. I was sure he could see the accusations burning in my eyes.

He surprised me by talking, his tone holding a tingle of amusement and malice. "My first kill was when I was seventeen. You see, little rabbit, not everyone has the luxury of living a calm life without any evil intent. It wasn't like I was born to kill people, the situation forged me to kill or be killed."

My stomach churned nervously.

"I've learned at a young age that people are cruel. This world is cruel."

"That doesn't give you the right to kill other people."

"People kill all the time."

"But you don't even feel any remorse."

He stared at me, watching the way my chest was rising and my hands were balled into small fists. "I don't," he said.

"You . . . You . . . " Words failed me as I stared at the beautiful man with a twisted soul before me.

"What, do you think I'm a monster? Do you think that I deserve to die? Do you want me to die?" He laughed mirthlessly, his eyes wild and dark and glowing with ill intent. "Does my little rabbit wish for my death?"

"I'm not like you; I don't wish death upon anyone." My words were practically dripping with honesty and I realized that it was true. Although I feared and dreaded the man standing in front of me, I couldn't wish death upon him or any harm to him.

He didn't look surprised. "You've truly never held ill intention for someone? Never wished for someone's death?"

"No."

"I'm impressed you hold such high morals." His tone was mocking and he didn't look the least bit amazed at my intentions. "Such restraint is rare nowadays."

"How can you be so . . . cold hearted?" The words were out before I realized them, and I couldn't help but flinch back, scared that he would hit me or that he would snap. I was waiting for his blood to boil at my words, his rage to engulf him at being constantly berated by me in this moment.

His eyes were haunting. "You need to get this stupid notion out of your head that people are kind hearted or that they hold no ill intention. People kill and they are cruel. Life is cruel. I never claimed to be a hero or a good person. Don't think of me like that."

"Life can be cruel, but you can't—"

"Can't what? Kill people?" He threw back his head and laughed wildly. "You think that people are born with a want to kill? Life is what makes people kill. Torture and cruelty is what make people want to kill. I myself wondered long ago why people wanted to hurt others, why people sought out to ruin another's life, but you know what happened, little rabbit?" His gaze was serious and there was a blaze in his ebony eyes. "Life taught me that people are cruel and that sometimes, there is no reason for that cruelty. I grew up and I learned. You need to get this idiotic, childish thought out of your head that people are kind. People aren't."

I shook under his gaze, trembling like a leaf in the howling wind.

"You almost were raped and beaten and tortured," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Yet you still believe people are kind? Do you still believe that people don't deserve death? How can you be so naïve? Is it because you were lucky and that you weren't subjugated to that cruelty? Is that why you haven't realized the truth of this world? How, in all your years of living, have you not thought that this world isn't a fun place to be in?" He tone was harsh. "How can you think that—"

His words broke off when tears welled up in my eyes and dripped down my face.

He inhaled sharply and looked genuinely surprised that I was crying.

I couldn't control the tears running down my face. I tried swiping at them, but more would replace them. In the end, I sobbed into my hands, unable to handle everything that had happened. Meilin's words were true, but they were so sinister and negative.

"I shouldn't have spoken so crudely," he said suddenly.

I raised my tear streaked face to meet his dark gaze.

"Sometimes I don't think about what I say," he said carefully. He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes flashing with emotions I couldn't decipher. "I forget that you haven't experienced cruelty in this world and that you aren't like me."

I stared down at my hands, breathing unevenly and sniffling.

"I don't regret killing the people I've killed," he said simply. "You and I are vastly different and I shouldn't have treated you as if you would understand the thoughts of someone tainted like me. Your innocence, it's like a bright light to me and there was times when I want to snuff it out and show you that this world isn't nice, but I could never do that to you. I don't want you to lose your faith in this world; I want you to keep thinking that this world is a kind place. I don't want you to turn into a bitter and twisted person like me. You're innocent and even if the world broke you, I know that you would keep loving it. That's where we're different."

I felt like I couldn't breathe as his intense gaze burned me.

"Even if you think I'm a monster, I'll protect that light of yours." He didn't smile but his expression said it all. He was serious.

"Why?" I whispered in a soft, weak voice. "Why do you want to protect me? Why did you choose me?"

He didn't speak for the longest time and when he did, he didn't answer my question. "You should go to sleep."

"But—"

"Little rabbit, you're mine and I protect what's mine. I don't need a reason."