“There is always another option.”
Such a declaration belongs in a grand theater, not this cramped room—the kind of line that makes audiences lean forward in their seats as the hero stands tall against impossible odds. In fiction, they'd be rooting for him.
This isn’t a play.
His audience is comprised of two people trying to save his life and his stubborn denial is nothing but annoying.
“Release ,” he demands. “I understand if you don’t have the heart to fight the fate of the north. I never asked for your help. Little Water and I will do this on our own.”
Saints give this man strength. That is devotion bordering on madness—the kind that makes n throw themselves onto funeral pyres. Or is it the desperation of a drowning man clinging to the driftwood keeping him from sinking?
“We can’t do that,” I explain, my voice gentler than I feel. “I gave my word that I would handle you.”
“You’re planning to lie!”
“I am, and it’s stretching the bounds of that promise to the very limit.” Khan never shows his face in the north, he’s as good as dead. I truly hope that I can co to an unspoken understanding with the duke. Spare him losing another son. But that understanding isn’t feasible if Khan decides to go prancing through the snow. “Let be clear. I only care about keeping vows to my lovers. I’d lie to the saints themselves for my own ends. But I agree with your father. The ntal affinity is dangerous. Worse, a saints-cursed seer was involved in this ss. If they want you in Victory, I don’t want you anywhere near the north. I won’t let you go back.”
Thank the blessed saints. The distressed man actually takes a breath and thinks. Alana’s uses the lull in the mounting tension to continue breakfast, ignoring her glowering brother as she packs the food away with steady chomps.
She manages to put away half of one of the huge platters before Khan clears his throat, his gaze finding mine.
“I want to speak to Little Water.”
Saints damn it.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“She has everything to do with this. This was our plan. Our dream. She followed all the way here.” He looks at with suspicion. “Why are you trying to keep us apart?”
Don’t give that look. Does he think I’m trying to steal his lady lizard? I’m trying to help you, idiot. “I’m not trying to keep you apart as much as I’m trying to keep you from destroying yourself. Love has made sterner n than you do stupider things. She already played a part in convincing you to let a hostile force stick their fingers in your brain at. Since she’s apparently as suicidal as you, I’m willing to bet that leaving you two alone will end with both of you trying sothing else that will get you killed.”
“Let speak with her,” he insists. “This…if I’m going to do as you ask, that ans saying goodbye to her. I deserve to do that face to face.”
If you’re going to do as I ask? Bastard, why do you still think you have a choice? Does he not think I will kill him? Ugh. Maybe I won’t, but I’m not above keeping him prisoner for the rest of his days. Alana is not . She might regret it, she might cry, but she will remove his head if he keeps being difficult.
“Look—”
“Lou.” I turn to my knight, and she waves a dismissive hand. “Let them talk. If it were you, you wouldn’t rest until seeing us. He’s not even going to listen until they talk.”
…true.
“Fine. She’s here so—wait!” I motion him away from the door he rushed to, but he doesn’t let go of the knob. “Khan. Look at—yeah, there are no mirrors here. Let put it like this. When is the last ti you’ve taken a bath? Or cut your hair?”
Fingers go to the scraggly hairs along his chin.
“Exactly. You…don’t look your best. I ntioned she was here, so you know there isn’t a ti crunch. You can take an hour putting yourself together before your talk. Assuming that you want to et her looking your best?”
That’s hardly an assumption. He releases the door, hand trailing up to his hair. “I…don’t have another change of clothes.”
Oof. Has he been wearing dirty clothes this entire ti? No, they don’t look too bad. They’re actually in great condition. I imagine washing his clothes while he bathes would be simple for Geneva. “I’ll send soone here to get you sorted out. You can take a bath, even. Have you used proper soaps? I know Victory isn’t good on luxury. But before that, you should finish breakfast.”
“Fine.” Like a petulant child crumpling in the face of the unassailable reasoning of an adult, he retakes his seat on the bed and reaches for a piece of dried at, ripping off a piece aggressively. “I have a question.”
“Oh? Go ahead and ask.”
“What are you going to do about the war?” He huffs at my incomprehension. “You have soone who can read minds. I have knowledge of another sentient race entrenched in the north, one with incredible power. Any leader, no, anyone with good sense, would risk injuring to learn about them, but you don’t want to touch . The most logical reason why is that you already know about them. And if you know them, I can only imagine that you have learned whatever it is that made risk execution to broker peace between our people. So, since you are stopping from doing sothing about it, what are you going to do?”
Ah. That’s a frightening intellect. Saints, this man is wasted in a place that only has ti for muscleheads that swing steel until they die.
“For now, my plan is to gather more information. I don’t know how much they told you, but there is…” Do I need to tell a man with a volatile mind about the dragon that nearly ended the world? “I don’t want a war either and I’m going to do what I can to prevent it. Experience has shown that the biggest obstacle to peace is ignorance. People taking action without understanding the situation. I won’t be in that situation.”
“So long as you aren’t lulled into taking no action,” he grumbles. “I’m not special. I can’t imagine I was the first to discover the estrazi and whatever binds them to this continent. Yet Victory has never changed. No one has had the heart to change it.”
He thinks I won’t change things? Hah.
“Don’t worry. Change follows like a loyal hound.”
Whether I like it or not.
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