when I walked out of the healing wing to see Yvera hadn’t waited for me. Elder Jaya hadn’t required me to get checked, but I’d decided it was my best chance of dodging my rightwing, and the gamble had paid off. Though I didn’t doubt she’d pound on my door before she turned in to make me give her access, I might get a few uninterrupted deken of solitude before she did. Then, with a lot of luck, I could also avoid.…
That had been wishful thinking, and I didn’t even sigh when I saw Kor studying a plaque underneath some sculpture or another of some long-dead healer that had once served this Hold, as if it were the most fascinating text he had ever read.
No one could wait so casually in plain sight to ambush someone as Kor could.
I’d known as soon as he had volunteered to see Sarah to a room that I wouldn’t be able to escape him tonight. I knew he would figure everything out that I knew about her within seconds and then extract far more from the poor girl than I would have ever asked him to…at least, not so soon.
Or by using his usual methods. Kor had this fixed belief that if you wanted to get the truth from someone, you couldn’t just ask them for it. There was something to that with many of the people he had to deal with as my leftwing, but Sarah was not one of those people, and I’d been anxious to leave her in his hands without any sort of preparation.
On the other hand, there was no one better to help me conceal the fact that she was an Earthren. As soon as he’d volunteered, I’d also known I could take that one worry off my mind. Kor would have ensured she spoke to no one, he would have escorted her straight to a room by the swiftest route, and he might have even warned her to not reveal her origin.
Now, if only he’d behaved himself.…
Although from the smugness that came over him as he glanced at my approach, I doubted it.
“What did you do to her?” I asked suspiciously as I stopped in front of him.
He grinned. “Made her hate me, of course. You’re welcome, by the way.”
“Kor, we need her to help us,” I hissed, but fortunately, no one was in the hall outside the healing wing at this deken.
“No, we need her to help you, and I’m quite sure she’s willing to do that in spite of me. Maybe even because of me. After all, the worse I look, the better you look. See how that works?”
“You don’t need to alienate her—for any reason,” I said. “She’s a good person, Kor.”
Kor tsked. “I know. A tad too good, if you ask me. I’m going to need to harden her up, and that urgent task started tonight.”
“I—agh!” I threw up my hands and started walking. There was no changing Kor’s mind when he was set on something like this. He could be as stubborn as Yvera that way. I could try ordering him to be nice to Sarah, but ordering Kor was a tricky business. He would obey me, but only in the most technical sense. He would inevitably find a loophole in what I said and somehow do what he wanted anyway—maybe using even less appealing methods.
I trusted Kor. I’d known him for six years, and soon after we’d met, he saved my life, at great personal cost. He was good at heart, and I knew he was loyal to me and wholly dedicated to his role as my leftwing. That was part of the problem: if he weren’t so dedicated, he might not have been so merciless.
I once again marveled at the contrast between my wings, and yet how neither of them was what they seemed.
People always thought Yvera was the one they had to watch out for. She was the one wearing the armor and carrying the claymore after all—the fiercest fighter and most skilled flyer of our peers. A rightwing had to be the best of the best, and she was rightly feared for holding the position as mine. What they didn’t realize was that underneath her bristling exterior was an undeviating conscience and utter lack of guile.
When they looked at Kor, all they saw was a small, excitable, charming Starkissed scholar dressed in finery; even knowing he was a leftwing, very few people, even in Kor’s clan, realized that was all a front, and what was inside was something…entirely different. Something frighteningly brilliant, sharply observant, always calculating, and utterly ruthless in performing his duty as he saw it.
The Realms had no idea how lucky it was that Kor was too small and weak to have been a warrior. I shuddered to think of having to duel him if he’d had a bit more size and strength.
So, Kor said with his inner voice. What happened? The real version, not whatever story you fed Jaya.
I sighed. There was no point in wasting energy in being mad at him. I wondered why you were so willing to miss the interrogation. What makes you think I fed Jaya a story?
Which had not been easy, and Jaya seemed to guess the one detail I had been trying to conceal, but without evidence and with Yvera backing me up, Jaya didn’t have grounds for reporting me to Avva, and she didn’t seem inclined to pursue it, anyway. I’d stacked all the odds against such a measure: I was physically fine; the ahglen had only put up a token resistance once they’d realized just who they were contending with; my only wound had been self-inflicted and was long gone by now, anyway; and if Jaya brought the matter to the King’s attention, Avva would probably say I’d been justified in racing ahead to the wildgate. Gates were one of my primary responsibilities, after all. Especially unexpected, unstable ones like that one.
Because I know you, and I know Yvera, Kor said. So, details. I can guess most of them but.…
You like knowing you’re right, I finished, rolling my eyes.
I told him. Not that there was all that much to tell, so I was finished by the time we reached the guest wing.
I scanned the corridor for a sign of Sarah and relaxed when she wasn’t in sight. I also felt a twinge of disappointment—which I quickly silenced, as I did with every inclination I’d had toward a pretty girl for years now. It was a habit I was doubly grateful for now; it would prove useful while.…
I noticed Kor smirking at me, and I realized I should have controlled myself even better. Of course he hadn’t missed that one glance.
“She’s probably back from her bath now,” Kor said. “Since I see don’t see the clothes or food I set in front of her door.”
He pointed down the hall.
“Thank you for doing that,” I said coolly, going to the first available room I saw and touching the doorgem. I didn’t even notice the price of power it extracted to attune itself to me and only listened for the audible click of the mechanism before shoving the door open.
“Now, are you going to leave me in peace, or—” I began as I looked back.
Kor interrupted me, something intent in his expression now. “Don’t you want to see which room is hers?”
“No.”
“I think you should see which room is hers,” Kor said in a tone that made it clear he wasn’t just suggesting.
“Why?” I asked suspiciously.
He shrugged. “Lots of reasons. In case there’s an emergency. In case you need to find her. Or walk her to breakfast tomorrow.… You know how I like to sleep in.”
“We’re all leaving at dawn,” I said quietly. “Even you, since I don’t want to come back for you. You can show me then.”
Torch it, Ben, Kor snapped inside my head, which told me he was serious. Go look at her door, now. Just trust me on this one.
“Fine,” I huffed, closing my door even though blessed rest beckoned.
I followed Kor irritably, intending to glance at Sarah’s door and then march straight back to my room before she could catch me in front of it. But when Kor stopped and pointed, and my eyes followed.…
My jaw dropped.
The gem in her door shone at me so benignly. Yet the truths it revealed were anything but ordinary.
There were many colors of gems on the doors of occupied rooms in this hall, reflecting the colors of the various clans each occupant belonged to, as did the hair, eyes, and scales of drakón. Quite a variety tonight for such a remote outpost, though the majority was unsurprisingly emerald Peacegrowth, followed closely by violet Battleblood and scarlet Strongshield.
There were only two gems that glowed with that intensity of power. Mine…and hers.
Even mine was not that color.
No one’s was.
“White,” I whispered.
“Quite a brilliant white,” Kor said, arms folded as he examined the gem. When he turned to look at me, his eyes said everything he wasn’t saying out loud. “Interesting. Don’t you think?”
I closed my jaw, pivoted, and strode back to my room. I was too shaken to stop Kor from following me inside, so I just let the door close behind him. It was probably better to get this conversation over with sooner rather than later, anyway.
“So,” Kor said, leaning against the desk and allowing himself a wide grin now that we had privacy. “What do you think of her?”
“Kor,” I said in a warning tone. Really, I was surprised he was trying to bring this up tonight. Normally he timed discussions he knew I wouldn’t like more carefully. He must be fit to burst.
He ignored me and plowed ahead. “Right, you hardly got to talk to her after she could finally understand you. Not much time to get an impression there. So, I’ll just tell you what I think of her.”
I could have stopped him there, and I was sorely tempted to. Especially since that freshly made bed beckoned me like it was my only friend in the world—the only one that didn’t seem to demand something of me tonight, at any rate—and I still hadn’t even called Avva yet to give my report.
But with Kor, it was better to let him get everything out and then tell him no. He was always baffled that you could possibly disagree with all the logic he’d just laid so perfectly before you, but having nothing else to say, he’d just go off somewhere to sulk and curse the stupidity of dramákind. Rather, since I was the only one he had to bother with these days, just my stupidity.
Kor held up a hand and started counting down fingers as he said each point. “Let’s first get through the pluses you already know. She’s Earthren, she’s a good person—your words, remember?—and as you’ve just discovered, she’s powerful and compatible with you. At least one would presume so. White is, after all, the reflection of all colors.…”
He was referring to a nonsense relationship theory that said certain clan colors were fated to be more romantically “compatible” than others, and a laughably weighty factor was simply whether the soulcolors of the two dramá in question matched. Strange as it sounded, couples had broken up or never even formed because of “soul matching.”
The Tree, the Temple, and the Crown had all firmly discounted the theory, but that hadn’t stopped it from being a pervading influence—or a “kind” way to reject someone, or an excuse to fall back on if things didn’t work out.
As romantically ridiculous as Kor could be (this discussion being a prime example), I knew better than to think Kor believed in soul matching himself. In this, his personal beliefs were irrelevant to him. As a proper leftwing, he was thinking only of how the public would perceive a match between us and was relishing at how soul matching could work in our favor, making his job that much easier.
He was right, unfortunately. Even I had to admit briefly to myself that my shade of gold would go with her shade of white perfectly. No one could have objected on that front, at least.
I dismissed the conclusion as not just ridiculous but also irrelevant.
“White,” Kor continued with relish. “Simply fascinating. That was the Moontouched color, as you know, but it’s incredible to see her soulcolor so undiluted by so many subsequent generations of amá blood. That makes me wonder if white is the soulcolor of amá themselves. Wouldn’t that make a great paper! I’m going to have to do some research—and some tests if Sarah will let me.… Huh. Maybe I should have been nicer to her, after all.…”
“Kor,” I said testily when he paused for breath.
“Right, sorry, I’m just a bit excited, as I’m sure you are too,” Kor said, taking a deep breath to calm himself. “But one topic at a time. Here are some things I noticed that you might not have had the chance to catch yet: she’s not as timid as she looks—that’s just all this overwhelming newness, I think. Push her, and she pushes back, alright, so she’s got spine. She’s intelligent—”
Despite my initial resolve, I couldn’t take this anymore. “Kor, stop.”
“What?” he asked, nonplussed.
I pinched my nose. I’d been feeling a headache coming on (ironically, ever since leaving the healers), and this was not helping. “Just…stop. I know what you’re doing, and I’m having none of it, you understand?”
“Oh, come on, Ben,” Kor said, gesturing to me with both hands. “Even you can’t be blind to the fact that the most eligible match for you has just fallen into your life. I couldn’t have found a better girl for you if I’d been able to line up all the ones in the Six Realms—and trust me, I’ve been making a list.”
“Of course you have,” I said with a sigh, going over to the kettle sitting on the counter while praying it was full already. To get rid of this headache without using my emergency reserves to heal myself, I was going to need a big mug of tsha.
Or maybe three.
Yes, thank the Flame it was. I poured leaves into the kettle, set the kettle on the spit hook over the fire, went back to the counter, and grabbed a mug while Kor went on in earnest.
“I’m not just talking about eligibility here, Ben. I’m talking about what is good for you, what will make you happy. And I’m telling you, she’s it. As soon as you spend some time with her, you’ll know what I mean. The potential is a bit buried right now, but I can see it. Give her time to adjust, to find her footing, and she’s going to be so perfect for you it’s ridiculous. Your father’s going to love her.”
This was the harder side of Kor’s persuasive technique to dismiss, and he knew it, torch him: the “I’m only doing this because I care about you as a friend” card. Because what could I say to that? “Stop caring about me”?
I shoved the mug back, braced my hands on the counter, and took a deep breath, pleading with the Flame for calm. “Be that as it may, I can’t risk alienating Sarah—as you’re so determined to do. I need her help, not her…company.”
“I feel like I’m talking to a five-summer when you get like this,” Kor said, folding his arms. “Ben, those things aren’t mutually exclusive.”
“Well, they are to me,” I retorted, straightening.
“No, now you’re just giving excuses, as you always do. First, it was that none of the girls met this or that criteria. Then it was because you were too busy. Then, until yesterday, it was because you couldn’t spend long enough in any one place because you were trying to chase down an Earthren for your father. Well, now you have one, and not only is she powerful enough to help you, but she’s also—”
“I’m not interested in courtship right now, Kor,” I said through gritted teeth. I walked away from the counter to the other side of the firepit to give myself some more space from him. “I’ve told you.”
“Yes, but you still haven’t told me why,” he said with narrowed eyes. “You know you’re going to want to marry eventually—”
“No, I don’t,” I snapped. And instantly regretted it when his eyes widened at that insight.
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. You’re not intending to marry…ever?”
I exhaled. I’d slipped, so I might as well finish what I’d started. “No, I’m not. There’s nothing in the law that says I have to. I don’t have to have a consort or produce my own Heir. Any other Sunfilled can take my place.”
Theoretically. Truth was, they had to be the right sort of person to be chosen, and that necessity made a scarce pool of Sunfilled even smaller. I could only think of a handful that I would be comfortable with becoming my Heir, but I wasn’t about to mention that to give Kor more fodder.
“Yes, but…Ben…why?” Kor looked floored, and that wasn’t an expression I saw very often on him. “I know you aren’t inclined toward celibacy. Why do that to yourself? Especially when…you’re a Sunfilled.”
Having children was so difficult for a Sunfilled that society considered it a duty for every member of the clan to do so if possible. Because if there were no more Sunfilled.…
That was the part that made me feel the worst about the decision I’d made years ago.
No…the worst part was Avva’s quiet, mostly hidden disappointment as each summer since my sixteenth passed without me finding a daughter for him. I’d gathered a long time ago that he’d always wanted one, but after Avvi’s death.…
The only way Avva was going to have a daughter to dote on was if I presented him with one.
I would do anything for Avva. Anything…but that. I knew he understood, which was why he never, ever said anything about it. After all…how could he ask me to go through the same suffering he had after losing Avvi?
At least he was the one person I would never have to explain myself to. Kor would be another matter. I’d always known we’d have to have this conversation one day; after all, it was part of his job description to help me find a suitable match, given how important a consort was, for many reasons.
The possibility of the consort bearing an Heir was actually far down that list, given the unlikelihood of the Monarch’s child being chosen, so my excuse in that regard was flimsy. No, a consort was desirable to the people for other reasons, foremost among them being that a consort was the clans’ best chance for one of their own to share the crown. The consort was, in a sense, the people’s Monarch, chosen not from the Sunfilled Clan, not by the Tree, but by some other combination of fate, suitability, expediency, and affection. The people knew the consort was chosen as much by them as by the Monarch.
Because Kor had figured out my inclinations a long time ago, he’d taken that as all the directive he needed to find the right girl. Nothing I’d said up to this point had discouraged him, and probably nothing would unless I told him the truth in all its entirety.
But there were some secrets I couldn’t entrust to even him. Even if I’d wanted to.
And yet, how to give him just enough truth to make him stop, at least for now?
He watched the conflict in my expression, and he sighed. “Alright, maybe this was a mistake to bring up this evening. I’ll let this go for tonight, and I’ll even promise to be nice to Sarah tomorrow, if you’ll answer one question for me.”
“What kind of question?” I asked suspiciously. But if it was going to be that easy to get rid of him tonight and guarantee his best behavior on such a crucial day…I was already sorely tempted.
“Just an academic curiosity—an indulgence, really. Only tangentially related to our discussion, I promise.”
Alarm horns were trumpeting in my head, but I was done for tonight, so I foolishly ignored them. “Alright, fine. What is it?”
“Excellent,” Kor said. Then, for dramatic effect, he went through the trouble of pulling out one of his small leather-bound notebooks and a pencil.
I began to feel nervous.
“Here’s my question.” He paused significantly, and I began to truly regret my decision. “When you first saw her, how did you feel?”
“Well, worried, obviously,” I said in confusion. “And furious. Like I said, those ahglen were about to—”
“I guess I need to be more specific,” Kor said dismissively. “When you first made eye contact, how did you feel? Any sensations to note? Particular energies? Did you notice any soulflare in her eyes?”
Suddenly, I understood what he was getting at, and I went still. And said nothing.
“Interesting,” Kor said, noting something in his notebook. As if I had told him all he needed to know.
“Wait, Kor, it’s not—you can’t—you don’t understand, I.…”
I swallowed. I’d skimmed over this part when giving my account to him, and for good reason. I should have known better than to think he hadn’t noticed.
“She ran from me while I was still in drakáform, and I panicked, so I ran after her in amáform and knocked her down. That was when we first made eye contact, and given the awkwardness of the circumstances, that isn’t something to read into. I’m sorry, but your ‘academic curiosity’ will never be satisfied on this point, because the one chance you had to test your theory, there were extenuating factors.”
“Noted,” Kor said with a nod, and he indeed continued to write something studiously, but from the look in his eyes, I knew I hadn’t fooled him in the slightest.
“Well, this has been a most enlightening conversation,” Kor said, pushing off from the desk and heading to the door. “But I’m sure you’re tired and need to report to the King at any rate, so I’ll keep my end of the bargain and leave you to it.”
“Thanks,” I said between gritted teeth. “I’ll expect you to keep your word tomorrow as well.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” he said with a wink. “I’ll be on my best behavior, as promised.”
Somehow, I no longer found that comforting.
As soon as the door swung shut behind him, I collapsed face first into the bed. I couldn’t fall asleep yet, obviously, but neither should I call Avva until I could manage a calm, controlled facade.
I cursed myself for being so naïve. This was Kor, I was dealing with, after all. I, of all people, should have known better than to take his deal.
Now, without even saying a word, I had given him all the fodder he needed to never let this go.