“My mind doesn’t need fixing.”
Khan isn’t a stupid man. Unfortunately, one doesn’t need to be stupid to miss what is right in front of them. His eyebrows pinch together, his mouth turns down at the corners—a mask of indignation that fails to hide the lost look in his eyes.
“Khan,” I start, working to strike that delicate balance between firm and gentle. “You know Victory’s traditions regarding the ntal influence. I bet you know them better than .”
He nods, nothing dawning on him.
“The only reason you are not dead is because I made a deal with your father; if I could restore you, then you would be spared. But only if we succeeded. And we’re telling you we can’t.”
There. I watch as understanding dawns across his face like a shadow—first his eyes widen with shock, then narrow to slits. His hand curls into a fist at his side, knuckles whitening. "You're going to execute ," he says, voice flat but trembling slightly at the edges.
“No! Saints.” What is wrong with these Jas siblings? “We're here to discuss alternatives to your execution. But it cos with a price.”
“You can’t go ho,” Alana announces without any tact.
“I refuse,” her brother returns with the sa lack of thought.
If this is how the north handles sensitive topics, it’s no wonder that all of their traditions resort to violence to solve their problems. The siblings have abandoned their food, both sitting with spines like iron rods and lips pinched into identical scowls. I wonder if such mirror-image stubbornness is inherited or learned.
“Listen,” I say, capturing both their attention. I pop another piece of fruit in my mouth, unwilling to let the food go to waste. “Your father was clear. The only way he would accept you is if we could reverse what was done to you. We. Can’t. Do. That. If you return to Victory, you’ll be executed. Do you understand that?”
Khan huffs. “You don’t want to return ho. You intend to tell the north that I died.”
“Basically.” The real question is whether to tell his father. The duke allowing us to try curing Khan is proof he doesn’t want his son to die, but he is a dutiful Jas. He’ll be compelled to see his family’s traditions through to the end. Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea to test his conviction.
“If you’re going to lie to them anyway, then tell them I’m fine.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why not?!” His voice cracks upward like ice breaking on a frozen lake, louder than I've ever heard from him, as panic flashes across his face.
“Because I agree that you shouldn’t be allowed back into the fort,” I say evenly, unmoved by his emotion. “You were captured by a group that has been killing dozens every year. A group that has a very good reason to keep humanity out of the north. They sent you back with an altered mind. No leader with a functioning brain would not see a threat in that.”
“But I’m fine,” he practically growls. “I’m the sa man. My mories are intact, my goals are the sa. I agreed to this, because if I returned with my knowledge of the estrazi, they would have demanded I tell them everything I know. And they would have used that information to convince themselves that they could finally win the war when fighting is the last thing we should be doing. I did this to protect both sides. I have protected them. And for that, I can never go ho?! That’s…that’s…crap!”
“What did you expect?” Alana’s sharp voice cuts in, robbing of the chance to calm the irritated man. “Did you think you could change hundreds of years of precedent with one plea? That ridiculous thought alone is reason enough to suspect foul play.”
“I didn’t think—”
“Clearly.”
He scowls. “I hoped. I hoped that my parents cared enough about their child that they wouldn’t execute imdiately. I hoped that after listening to what I had to say, they would understand the futility in Victory’s war. I hoped that our leaders would care more about their people and the fate of the entire damn kingdom more than winning. Despite everything I have seen, despite everything that has been done to , I still believe that our ho can be more than blood, pain, and death. If that makes untrustworthy, then you have to see that I’m not the problem!”
He hoped?
I don’t have to say it; Alana beats to it.
“That was dumb.”
It’s almost comical. In my experience, people are ruled by their selfish desires. They won’t hesitate to hurt themselves and others to get what they want. Despite that, his argunt would work on most; most people will put aside imdiate gain to stave off future ruin. Victorians are not most people. He thought he could sway his family with reason? I’ve only known about them for a year, but it’s obvious it would never work.
“What was I supposed to do?” he snaps. “Let our people keep pushing until the estrazi were forced to take drastic action? They control titans, Alana. Do you think Victory would survive if they sent every titan in the north at our walls at once? Do you think Harvest would survive?”
“Yes.”
He scoffs. “Should have expected as much. Are you so desperate for that man’s acceptance that you can ignore the truth?”
I frown as Alana flinches, but she rallies before I step in. “I’m not the one blinded by my emotions,” she bites out. If anger could burn, her brother would be a pile of ash. Sothing he recognizes from the hunch of his shoulders. “You are the one who thinks he knows the north and all of humanity better than anyone else. The one who thinks he has the right to decide our futures.”
“The right? That’s—”
“Quiet.” Her hard tone crushes his rebuttal like a boulder dropped on a thin branch, her brother’s mouth gaping as he struggles to speak in the face of her judgnt. “You have a flawed understanding of the world, poisoned by your dislike of our ho and your awe of the estrazi. The world doesn’t begin and end with the north. It is one part of a kingdom, a smaller part of an entire world. Victory alone might not be able to defend its walls against an army of titans, but Harvest has several more masters. Lou is an army herself. So are her elentals. So is Kierra and every elf she could summon to the battle for the simple pleasure of shedding blood.”
She stands; to his credit, Khan doesn’t shrink away, eting her hard gaze. “You know so little, Khan. Even before you made the decision to be the estrazi’s plaything, all you knew of the situation was what they told you. What Little Water told you. Assuming she was entirely truthful, what does she know? She’s made it plain that she is an unfavored daughter on the outskirts of her people, soone else who knows nothing. What did the leaders of her people think of your grand plan? They chose to erase your mory. They erased you.”
Ouch.
“I consented. It was part of a greater plan.”
“You think you consented and you think it’s a part of a greater plan,” she corrects harshly. “Maybe it is, but you can’t say it’s your plan you’re following. You don’t know what the estrazi have planned for you. Neither does Little Water and she can’t protect you if her family has bad intentions.”
She deflates, her righteous indignation leaving her with a sigh. “This is bigger than you, Khan.”
He sneers. “We’re discussing my life.”
“No. We’re discussing what we’re going to do with your life. According to you, you willingly gave power of your fate to another. That power has simply moved from the estrazi to us.” A finger rubs her brow. “This is unbelievable. We risk our reputations and our future plans to save you and you’re sitting there telling us it’s not good enough? By the ancestors, Khan. What do you want? Will you not be satisfied unless you singlehandedly save the world?”
Silence answers her, the siblings trading glares as their wills clash. I do my best to blend into the wall, idly chewing the few bites of breakfast I snatched from the platter. Though I would have tried to soften the words, Alana has said nothing wrong and sumd up the situation nicely. Like many n, Khan is suffering from an inflated idea of himself, the common delusion that his life and actions matter far more than they do. It’s the gambler’s folly. The allure of a risky bet with a payout to let them live like a king. He gambled everything on the chance to change the world, or his world I suppose, and he can’t accept his gamble failed.
Accepting his failure would strip away his purpose, his identity. It would leave him adrift in a world that already rejected him once. And who, having sacrificed everything, could bear to face such emptiness?
“Ti to make a choice,” I say into the silence after it drags on for too long. I raise a brow as angry brown eyes try to drag into their quiet battle. This isn’t the mont to make a stand, idiot. “Our way or your father’s. Live or die. No other options.”
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