Beyond the Shadows
Page 16
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Logan’s face drained. With his gauntness, it made his face look like a grey skull with burning eyes. His voice was flat. “To take the throne, my father would’ve had to murder the children of the woman he loved.”
“And how many children died because he didn’t? That’s the burden of leadership, Logan: making the choice when none of the choices are good. When you nobles won’t pay, others have to, people like me, kids with nothing.”
Logan was silent for a long moment. “This isn’t about my father, is it?”
“Where the fuck is your crown?!” Kylar demanded. Through the earring bond, Kylar could feel Vi’s concern over the jumble of his emotions. She was feeling—dammit—Kylar tried to wall her out, push the feelings off to one side.
The big man looked haggard. “Did you ever meet Jenine Gunder?”
“When would I meet a princess?” It took Kylar a second to remember that Logan had been married to Jenine—albeit only for a few hours. Khalidor’s coup had come the very night of Logan’s wedding. She’d bled to death in Logan’s arms.
“You’d think I’d be over it,” Logan said. “Honestly, I’d always assumed that a girl as beautiful and as happy as she was had to be stupid. What an asshole I was. Kylar, have you ever looked into a woman’s eyes and found that she made you want to be strong, and good, and true? Protective, fierce, noble? Finding Jenine was finding something better than I ever dared to dream.” Kylar didn’t want to hear it. It reminded him of Elene. And if he thought about Elene, his anger would die. “I was supposed to go from that to Terah Graesin?” Logan asked. “I couldn’t. Not for a crown. Not for anything.”
“But I saw everyone on the battlefield, bowing to you.”
“I’d given my troth . . .” Logan trailed off.
Kylar threw his hands up, despairing.
Logan’s eyes filled with dim sorrow. “I did what I thought was right.”
~Imagine a king who does that.~
Kylar looked at Logan as he hadn’t looked at him even when he’d rescued him from the Hole. Then, he had only been able to see the physical wounds. Now he saw more. There was the gravitas of pain deep in Logan’s eyes. “You’d do it again,” Kylar said.
Logan forced a weak laugh. “Hey, I’m already having my doubts.”
“No you’re not.”
The laughter died. “Yes, I am,” Logan said quietly, his eyes never leaving Kylar’s, his gaze never wavering. “But yes, I’d do it again. This is who I am.” He had never been more royal.
Let me see him. Kylar put his hand on his friend’s arm and saw Logan, through his own eyes, less handsome, but fierce, primal in the filth of the Hole, tearing raw flesh from a human leg with his teeth, weeping. There he was hating the Holers, sinking into the filth, becoming a Holer in his own eyes. There he was deciding over the hard knot of hunger that gnawed him day and night that he would share his next meal lest he abandon being human altogether. There he was, handing out food and hating those who accepted, but doing it. That small core of nobility became the most important possession Logan had, and he would pay any price for it.
That lesson was bound up with Serah Drake, who had been Logan’s fiancée before King Gunder forced him to marry Princess Jenine. Logan had loved Serah once, but that love had withered over the years, finally propped up only by false kindness. He’d been planning to marry the wrong woman because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Breaking his engagement had been the right thing to do, but it had seemed too cruel. But if they hadn’t been engaged, Serah wouldn’t have been at the castle the night of the coup. She’d still be alive. In the Hole, sharing food had been the right thing to do. It had seemed stupid, but in the end, the Holers helped Logan because he helped them first. Logan’s failure and his success had driven home the same lesson: Do what you know is right, and you’ll get the best consequences in the end.
It was, Kylar thought, why Logan might be great. You could count on him. He was loyal, he was honest, and he would fight to the death to do the right thing. Always.
“We’ve both come pretty far,” Kylar said. “You think we can be friends?”
“No.” Grimly, Logan shook his head. “Not friends. Best friends.” Then he grinned, and the last year seemed to roll off Kylar’s back. They were the kind of friends who would stand and be counted. For Kylar, who had always kept dirty secrets that threatened everything, the feeling was precious beyond words.
“What happens now?” Kylar asked.
“One more errand and then, well . . . I’m going to write a book.”
Kylar tented his eyebrows. “No offense, Your Ogrishness, but what are you going to write a book about?”
“You know how I’ve always loved words. I’m going to write a book of words.”
“I was under the impression that that’s what most books are.”
“Not composed of words. I’m going to write a book defining all the words in our language. I’m calling it a dictionary.”
“You’re writing in Jaeran?”
“Yes.”
“Defining Jaeran words?”
“Right.”
“So you’ll have to already know Jaeran to read it?”
“You make it sound stupid,” Logan said, scowling.
“Hmm.” Kylar gave an I-wonder-why-that-is? shrug. The idea of Logan’s commanding form sequestered in a candlelit study, squinting at manuscripts, was funny—except that Logan thought he was serious. Logan was scholarly, but he was no scholar. He was born to lead. This book idea was a pretense to shield him from seeing Terah’s mistakes and from his own impulses to do something about them.
Minutes ago, Kylar had thought he was done. He’d kept his oath to the Wolf. He thought that now he’d be free to go make things right with Elene. But now Terah Graesin was queen. She probably had a contract out on Logan already. The best way to cancel a contract was to cancel the contract-taker. And Terah Graesin deserved canceling. One more kill, and I can change a country. With Logan as king, things can be different. There won’t have to be guilds or guild rats anymore. Elene was still safe in Waeddryn. He could do this in a week and be on his way.
“Look, we have to talk more, but first,” Logan said, “I need to piss, and then I need to figure out what to do about the Khalidorans and this Lae’knaught army.”
“What army?” Kylar asked.
“I just—what do you mean, what army? You have that look in your eye.”
“Those Khalidorans aren’t Khalidorans; the Lae’knaught’ve been wiped out, and we need to get to Cenaria before the Ceuran army does.”
“The Ceuran—what? What?”
Kylar just laughed.
14
Dorian sat in the chute room, balancing the crap pot strapped to his back on the edge of one of the chutes. This was the last pot of the day, and Dorian was sore, exhausted, and grumpy—and he got to spend most of every day in the company of beautiful women. The chute room slave spent every day in this foul room, directing the slaves who brought in all of the Citadel’s human waste and maintaining the sewage chutes, and he was the happiest slave Dorian had ever met. Dorian still gagged every time he opened the door. How the hell could Tobby be chipper?
“And how many children died because he didn’t? That’s the burden of leadership, Logan: making the choice when none of the choices are good. When you nobles won’t pay, others have to, people like me, kids with nothing.”
Logan was silent for a long moment. “This isn’t about my father, is it?”
“Where the fuck is your crown?!” Kylar demanded. Through the earring bond, Kylar could feel Vi’s concern over the jumble of his emotions. She was feeling—dammit—Kylar tried to wall her out, push the feelings off to one side.
The big man looked haggard. “Did you ever meet Jenine Gunder?”
“When would I meet a princess?” It took Kylar a second to remember that Logan had been married to Jenine—albeit only for a few hours. Khalidor’s coup had come the very night of Logan’s wedding. She’d bled to death in Logan’s arms.
“You’d think I’d be over it,” Logan said. “Honestly, I’d always assumed that a girl as beautiful and as happy as she was had to be stupid. What an asshole I was. Kylar, have you ever looked into a woman’s eyes and found that she made you want to be strong, and good, and true? Protective, fierce, noble? Finding Jenine was finding something better than I ever dared to dream.” Kylar didn’t want to hear it. It reminded him of Elene. And if he thought about Elene, his anger would die. “I was supposed to go from that to Terah Graesin?” Logan asked. “I couldn’t. Not for a crown. Not for anything.”
“But I saw everyone on the battlefield, bowing to you.”
“I’d given my troth . . .” Logan trailed off.
Kylar threw his hands up, despairing.
Logan’s eyes filled with dim sorrow. “I did what I thought was right.”
~Imagine a king who does that.~
Kylar looked at Logan as he hadn’t looked at him even when he’d rescued him from the Hole. Then, he had only been able to see the physical wounds. Now he saw more. There was the gravitas of pain deep in Logan’s eyes. “You’d do it again,” Kylar said.
Logan forced a weak laugh. “Hey, I’m already having my doubts.”
“No you’re not.”
The laughter died. “Yes, I am,” Logan said quietly, his eyes never leaving Kylar’s, his gaze never wavering. “But yes, I’d do it again. This is who I am.” He had never been more royal.
Let me see him. Kylar put his hand on his friend’s arm and saw Logan, through his own eyes, less handsome, but fierce, primal in the filth of the Hole, tearing raw flesh from a human leg with his teeth, weeping. There he was hating the Holers, sinking into the filth, becoming a Holer in his own eyes. There he was deciding over the hard knot of hunger that gnawed him day and night that he would share his next meal lest he abandon being human altogether. There he was, handing out food and hating those who accepted, but doing it. That small core of nobility became the most important possession Logan had, and he would pay any price for it.
That lesson was bound up with Serah Drake, who had been Logan’s fiancée before King Gunder forced him to marry Princess Jenine. Logan had loved Serah once, but that love had withered over the years, finally propped up only by false kindness. He’d been planning to marry the wrong woman because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. Breaking his engagement had been the right thing to do, but it had seemed too cruel. But if they hadn’t been engaged, Serah wouldn’t have been at the castle the night of the coup. She’d still be alive. In the Hole, sharing food had been the right thing to do. It had seemed stupid, but in the end, the Holers helped Logan because he helped them first. Logan’s failure and his success had driven home the same lesson: Do what you know is right, and you’ll get the best consequences in the end.
It was, Kylar thought, why Logan might be great. You could count on him. He was loyal, he was honest, and he would fight to the death to do the right thing. Always.
“We’ve both come pretty far,” Kylar said. “You think we can be friends?”
“No.” Grimly, Logan shook his head. “Not friends. Best friends.” Then he grinned, and the last year seemed to roll off Kylar’s back. They were the kind of friends who would stand and be counted. For Kylar, who had always kept dirty secrets that threatened everything, the feeling was precious beyond words.
“What happens now?” Kylar asked.
“One more errand and then, well . . . I’m going to write a book.”
Kylar tented his eyebrows. “No offense, Your Ogrishness, but what are you going to write a book about?”
“You know how I’ve always loved words. I’m going to write a book of words.”
“I was under the impression that that’s what most books are.”
“Not composed of words. I’m going to write a book defining all the words in our language. I’m calling it a dictionary.”
“You’re writing in Jaeran?”
“Yes.”
“Defining Jaeran words?”
“Right.”
“So you’ll have to already know Jaeran to read it?”
“You make it sound stupid,” Logan said, scowling.
“Hmm.” Kylar gave an I-wonder-why-that-is? shrug. The idea of Logan’s commanding form sequestered in a candlelit study, squinting at manuscripts, was funny—except that Logan thought he was serious. Logan was scholarly, but he was no scholar. He was born to lead. This book idea was a pretense to shield him from seeing Terah’s mistakes and from his own impulses to do something about them.
Minutes ago, Kylar had thought he was done. He’d kept his oath to the Wolf. He thought that now he’d be free to go make things right with Elene. But now Terah Graesin was queen. She probably had a contract out on Logan already. The best way to cancel a contract was to cancel the contract-taker. And Terah Graesin deserved canceling. One more kill, and I can change a country. With Logan as king, things can be different. There won’t have to be guilds or guild rats anymore. Elene was still safe in Waeddryn. He could do this in a week and be on his way.
“Look, we have to talk more, but first,” Logan said, “I need to piss, and then I need to figure out what to do about the Khalidorans and this Lae’knaught army.”
“What army?” Kylar asked.
“I just—what do you mean, what army? You have that look in your eye.”
“Those Khalidorans aren’t Khalidorans; the Lae’knaught’ve been wiped out, and we need to get to Cenaria before the Ceuran army does.”
“The Ceuran—what? What?”
Kylar just laughed.
14
Dorian sat in the chute room, balancing the crap pot strapped to his back on the edge of one of the chutes. This was the last pot of the day, and Dorian was sore, exhausted, and grumpy—and he got to spend most of every day in the company of beautiful women. The chute room slave spent every day in this foul room, directing the slaves who brought in all of the Citadel’s human waste and maintaining the sewage chutes, and he was the happiest slave Dorian had ever met. Dorian still gagged every time he opened the door. How the hell could Tobby be chipper?
