56

Sebastian had always been one to follow the rules. Perhaps because his sister had always been one to break them. He’d enjoyed the praise that his parents heaped on him after they’d finished scolding Sonya. He’d enjoyed being the child they could “count on.”

If he was being honest, the idea of rebelling against the established order had also seemed a little frightening to him. Perhaps that fear had held him in check for much of his life. No other emotion had arisen that had been intense enough to push past the unease of breaking the rules.

Not until he came to Kleiner, where the turmoil he felt at witnessing the needless suffering of the Kantesians finally smothered his fear.

Sebastian had moved on from bricks to glass, melting sand into large sheets that would then be placed in the windows of the newly built brick homes. The process was a little trickier, requiring more thought and attention than baking clay, but it was also even more satisfying, since the end result was quite beautiful to his eye. He almost felt like an artist.

Once he’d finished his glass quota for the day, he would go visit Isobelle, who still cared for the injured Kantesians. There he would discreetly give her a new batch of healing potions.

“Are you certain you won’t get in trouble?” she whispered to him. The dim candlelight glittered in her concerned blue eyes.

He smiled. “I’m not certain at all. But rest assured, if I am discovered, I will insist on taking the full blame.”

She gave him a worried look, which he appreciated. “How do you even get it? Or do I not want to know?”

“The less you know, the better,” he told her.

Initially, Marcello had made good on his promise, taking a few bottles from the storehouse and giving them to Sebastian as a “gift for wooing.” But when Sebastian had asked for more, Marcello had said they would need to wait until the apothecaries restocked the shelves. Taking too many, too soon would draw attention.

But the Kantesians were suffering now, and any delay in additional deliveries would extend that suffering. Sebastian found the idea unsupportable. And so, one night, he snuck into the storehouse and stole another bottle.

And it had felt wondrous. He understood now why his sister was such an ardent rule breaker. There was a palpable thrill with the very act of transgression itself—a heady mixture of trepidation and power. There was also the relief of at least temporarily calming the anxiety he felt at knowing the Kantesians were suffering. There was the rush of pleasure he felt every time he handed the medicine over to Isobelle and saw the look of true gratitude in her eyes. And, there was an unexpected secondary pleasure when he would encounter a Kantesian who only a week ago had been moaning quietly in a bed and was now hale and hearty enough to hang the newly made window glass. The person didn’t even know it had been Sebastian who saved him, and savoring that secret somehow made it all the sweeter.

On some level, he always knew that it couldn’t go on forever. That eventually he would be found out. He didn’t know what would happen then, and he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he didn’t really care. No matter what, it had been worth it.

When the day finally came, he was on his way to see Isobelle once again, the heavy weight of a potion sloshing in his satchel. But Marcello was waiting for him outside the entrance. He grabbed Sebastian roughly by the arm and pulled him aside.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, his expression tense.

“Uh, going to see Isobelle?” said Sebastian. “I thought you approved.”

“Seeing her? Yes. Giving her stolen potions? Absolutely not.”

“Ah,” said Sebastian.

Marcello shook his head. “I warned you. Dandolo keeps his own records and the difference between what he had on record and what was actually in stock was so obvious, even drunk he noticed.”

An odd, unfamiliar calm began to settle over Sebastian. It was almost a relief. “Do they know it was me?”

“Not yet, but I’m in that storehouse every day and when they come to question me—which you know they will—I have to tell them the truth.”

Sebastian nodded. “Of course you do. I would never ask you to lie for me, and I’m grateful that you decided to warn me.”

Marcello sighed. “Honestly, Portinari, I can’t believe you’d go this far just for a turn in the sheets with a Kantesian.”

Sebastian frowned at his friend. “You think I did all this just to impress Isobelle?”

“Well… of course.”

“No, Marcello.” As Sebastian spoke to his friend, he articulated something that he had not fully understood himself until that moment. “I did this because it was the right thing to do. Do you recall what General Barone told me after the encounter with that monster in Hardsong Pass?”

Marcello shook his head.

“He said, ‘No matter our past mistakes, as long as we persist, there will always be opportunities for atonement. It is up to you to seize them.’ I arrived in Kleiner with the hope—the first true hope I’d felt in a while—that I could do some real good. Yet how could I possibly find redemption if I willfully ignored the suffering of innocent people? So just as the general advised, I seized this chance to make something right.”

“Damn it, Portinari, you’re twisting his words around. Aiding our enemy at the cost of our own supplies? He never meant for you to do something like that.”

“Oh, I know. But I’m done letting old men dictate what is right and wrong when I know perfectly well what I must do.”

Marcello looked like he was about to retort, but Sebastian gripped his shoulders and gave his friend a serene smile.

“Thanks, Marcello. It felt liberating to say that aloud.”

Marcello scowled. “You won’t feel very free once the general figures out what you did.”

Sebastian nodded, still strangely unbothered by his looming fate. The courage of the righteous, perhaps?

“I expect it will not go well for me. But still, I plan to give this last potion to Isobelle and warn her of what is to come.” He looked thoughtfully into Marcello’s eyes. “Will you try to stop me?”

Marcello stared at him for a moment, then began muttering curses as he stalked off.

Sebastian watched him go, feeling a swell of gratitude toward his friend. They might disagree on a number of things. Important things, even. But still, his loyalty, such as it was, meant a lot to him.

He turned and entered the dimly lit warehouse. As always, Isobelle was caring for the remaining Kantesians not yet recovered from their wounds.

“Isobelle, I’m afraid I have bad news,” he said.

She looked up at him, and it seemed as though she already knew what he was going to say. She whispered something in Kantesian to the old woman she’d been sitting with. Then she stood and beckoned Sebastian over to a corner.

“This is the last I can give you, I’m afraid.” He handed her the potion. “I expect they’ll arrest me for treason. Likely as soon as tomorrow.”

She took the bottle from him and nodded, biting her pink lower lip. “I have asked so much of you, Captain, but will you grant me one final favor?”

“If it’s within my power,” he said.

“Meet me by the riverbank outside of town just before midnight.”

“I won’t run from this, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he told her.

She smiled sadly. “I did not think you would. But if this is to be the last day I see you, I would like to give you something.”

He wasn’t sure what sort of gift she could give him. For a moment, he felt a small tingle of hope. A kiss perhaps? More, even? But no, he admonished himself, that was hardly a gentlemanly expectation. Regardless, he knew he could not deny her now any more than he could when they first met.

“Very well. I will see you tonight at the riverbank.”