He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated, and I realized he’d come to talk about Sorin.

“I did not know,” he began. “I swear to you. I—”

“I never thought you did,” I said.

“I would like your permission to hunt for him,” Daroc said.

I was quiet, studying him, uncertain this was the choice he should make so soon after his lover’s betrayal.

“And what will you do when you find him?” I asked.

Daroc swallowed. His eyes were so red, they looked as if they were filled with blood.

“I will kill him.”

“For me?” I asked. “Or for you?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead, he seemed to hold his breath.

“Would you really wish to exist in this world after you murdered your lover?” I asked.

I knew vengeance would come for Sorin, but I did not think it right for Daroc to take up the gauntlet, and I would never ask it of him.

“Former lover,” he said, a bitter note to his voice.

“All the same,” I said. “You love him.”

His mouth trembled.

“I wish I didn’t,” he said through clenched teeth.

Because then I would not have to feel this pain. I heard what he did not say aloud, the words lodging in my heart like a knife. I knew a version of this desperation because I had felt it when Yesenia died.

“It’s okay that you do,” I said, and when he looked at me, I almost flinched. I had known Daroc for hundreds of years, and I had never seen him so devastated. And then he finally broke, a sob bursting from his mouth.

“He should have killed me,” he said, falling to his knees, and another cry tore from his throat. “He should have killed me years ago after I turned him.”

I knelt beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I am glad he didn’t.”

Daroc remained on the floor for a while as wave after wave of emotion shook him. His mind was chaotic, and he vacillated between hunting Sorin and dying.

I could grant neither choice.

“I need you,” I said. “For now, the answer is no, but after you have grieved a while, you may ask me again.”

Daroc hung his head, defeated, though I knew he wavered, wondering if this would be the first time he defied my orders and went anyway. He rose to his feet first and I followed, holding his gaze.

“If I do not kill him, will you?” he asked.

“I suppose it depends on which of us sees him first,” I said.

It would not be an easy execution, even with what Sorin had done to Isolde. For so long, he had been our source of laughter, of fun. He was the sunlight we never had in Revekka. Most of all, I had considered him a friend.

And this was why I had so few.