“What’s the difference?”
“One you can walk away from when it’s done. The other consumes you until there’s nothing left.” He paused. “Which one is Sholto for you?”
Brynja opened her mouth to answer, then closed it. She’d thought she knew. She’d spent days convinced that killing Sholto was necessary, that it was justice, that it would set her free. And now she knew that Dugan was the man who had killed her mother. That fact would forever haunt her if he continued on his villainous ways.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “I guess I won’t know until I see the light leave his eyes. Hagen thinks revenge is always wrong.”
Connor snorted. “My son is young and idealistic. He’ll learn.”
“Learn what?”
“That the world isn’t black and white. That sometimes you have to do dark things to protect the people you love. That vengeance isn’t always wrong, it’s just complicated.” He looked at her steadily. “You have the right to kill Dugan, lass. He murdered your mother. He would have sold you and your cousin. Justice won’t come from any magistrate or lord, so you became justice yourself. There’s no shame in that, and there’s no one in the land who would say you were wrong.”
Something in Brynja’s chest loosened. She hadn’t realized how much she’d needed to hear that from someone she trusted, that her choice was understandable, even justified. Not wrong. Not shameful. Just… complicated.
“But?” she prompted, because she could hear the unspoken word in his tone.
“But then you’ll have to decide who you are after vengeance.” Connor’s expression was serious. “You’ve spent four moons being the girl who would kill Dugan. Then you met Sholtoand have had to deal with his cruelty. When the two are finally dead, what will you do with your life?”
The question hit harder than it should have. Because she didn’t know. Her entire identity since that day on Tiree had been wrapped up in her need for revenge. It had shaped every decision, every thought, every nightmare. Without that consuming purpose, who was she?
“I’m not sure yet,” she whispered, thinking of how she’d answered Hildi and Hagen.
“Then that’s what you need to determine.” He reached out, his hand covering hers. His grip was weak but warm. “You’re not just vengeance, Brynja. You’re also the woman who learned to ride a warhorse. Who can use a spear and a dagger and is now learning archery. Who makes my son smile in ways I haven’t seen in years. Who brought me stew when she could be anywhere else. That’s who you are too.”
Tears stung her eyes. “What if that’s not enough?”
“It’s more than enough.” His voice was firm. “But you have to believe it. You have to choose to be more than what was done to you.”
“I don’t know how.” Her voice came out in such a whisper, she wondered if he heard her.
“One day at a time. One choice at a time.” He squeezed her hand. “You wake up in the morning, and you choose not to let the past define your present. You choose to build something instead of just tearing down. You choose love over hate, even when hate feels easier.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Eventually. After a long, dark time of not doing it.” His smile was sad. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, lass. Hurt people I loved because I was too consumed by my own pain to see theirs. It took me longer than it should have to learn that vengeanceisn’t the same as healing. That you can get your revenge and still be broken.”
“But you’re not broken now.”
“Nay. Because I chose to build a life instead of just destroying my enemies. I chose Sela. I chose my children and grandchildren. I chose to be more than my rage.” He met her eyes. “And that’s what I’m telling you to do. Not to forget what happened. Not to forgive Sholto or Dugan, they won’t live much longer anyway. But to choose what comes next. To choose the life you want instead of just reacting to the life you were given.”
Brynja sat with that for a long moment. Outside the window, she could hear the sounds of the castle, voices calling, horses whinnying, the clang of metal on metal from the lists. Life continuing, heedless of her internal struggle.
“Hagen wants me to stay,” she said quietly. “Here. With him. Build a life together.”
“And what do you want?”
“I want…” She paused, searching for the truth. “I want to stop being afraid. I want to sleep through the night without nightmares. I want to wake up and not immediately reach for a weapon. I want to feel safe. And I wish to be happy again.”
“And do you think staying with Hagen will give you that?”
“Mayhap. I don’t know.” She looked down at their joined hands. “He keeps my horse saddled at night. In case I need to run. He doesn’t try to fix me or make me be something I’m not. He just… accepts me.”
Connor’s expression softened. “That’s love, lass. Real love. Not the kind the bards sing about, but the kind that shows up every day and does the work. The kind that saddles horses and holds you when you wake up screaming and doesn’t ask you to be anything other than what you are.”
“I don’t know if I can be what he needs.”
“What does he need?”
