He hesitated, then nodded. "It's... it's not because of you," Dain said, sounding miserable. "Until I got old enough and strong enough to start defending myself against people who did it, a lot of people treated me like a trained animal." He pressed his face against my neck and inhaled, his horn a rough line pressed against my jawline. "Too many people have talked to me like I'm some cute, exotic pet someone managed to teach to speak and walk upright for me to enjoy getting talked to like I'm adorable and pathetic, even by you."

"You know, I'm kind of understanding your propensity to murder," I said, trying to breathe through the white-hot rage that had boiled to life as he spoke. Every fucking thing I learned about Dain's childhood made me want to whip the Queen through the streets in some form of medieval torture. There'd been no need for him to go through that. It would have been so easy to prevent it, or at least stop it once it started to happen. Stag Court followed the Queen; if she'd given her son one dram of love, things could have been so different.

On my chest, Dain went still, his breathing sliding to a halt as he incorporated that new piece of information. His heartbeat thudded against my chest, and I could feel him start to tremble. At last, he inhaled and said in a shaky voice, "You're angry?"

"Furious." The word came out clipped and too fast for drugged Dain, who made a sharp sound of upset. I took a deep breath, held it for a count of ten, and let it out, trying to relax. "You have always deserved better, Dain," I said, in a slower, more gentle tone. "Children don't ask to be born. They deserve our care and affection."

"Not me," he said in a harsh voice. "I wasn't made to be a child. My mother refused to sacrifice to Faerqen for a century, since the wolf opposes the stag, and for her rebuke she was given me." Dain laughed, a bitter sound, then coughed and curled up from the pain of it.

"Dain..." I started, sweat prickling my skin.

"No sweet words, Leah," Dain said, his voice dull. "It's rare for us to have children, and rarer still the more of us live near each other. The god gave her an heir, a wonderful gift, except that the heir is a moon-called monster." His hand tightened on mine as he pressed his face against the skin of my neck. "She was damaged so badly birthing me that she will never have another child. Every day she looks at me she has to look at her punishment, and know that one day everything she possesses will belong to me. How is a wolf supposed to rule the stags?"

"Stop," I said.