“For how long?” Kinlear asked.
Arawn shrugged his large shoulders. “I’m...not certain.”
“And... what about you?” Kinlear asked. “What about...us?”
Their parents couldn’t justseparatethe two of them. They were apair. They had been together since beforebirth. And though their mother tried her best to keep them apart, these days...the twins still always found each other.
When Kinlear stepped out of line, Arawn was always there to help recenter him. To save him from overpaying on penance.
When Arawn was too stiff and saintly, Kinlear was always there to make life more interesting for him. To make him do what he so rarely did:smile.
Now, they’d be almost a whole kingdom apart.
“But we need each other,” Kinlear said softly.
He felt a familiar, disgusting burn behind his eyes.
You will not cry,he told himself.
It would only make him look weaker.
He wasso damned tiredof looking weak.
He wasn’t sure if it was from sadness or rage that the tears threatened to fall. He knew, already, that he would have no choice in the matter. Though he supposed he never had, when it came to his own fate.
“Don’t,” Arawn said, sitting taller as he noticed Kinlear’s emotions. Their eyes locked, and his voice took on thatkinglytone he was so good at. He’d been studying their father. But Kinlear knew Arawn would someday make a far better king. Akinderking...the type who’d once paid penance when it was meant for his brother instead. “Even if you’re in Touvre, and I’m in Augaurde....we were born a team. I won’t rule without you, Kinlear. Not for even a minute. You’ll be back in no time. Just prove to them that you’re worth it.”
It was easy for him to say. Arawn had never had to prove himself.
He was born a winner. By default, the gods had already given him first place.
Doubt crept into Kinlear’s mind.
What would become of Arawn, when Kinlear was gone? Would he become more like their father? Their mother? Would his soft edges harden, honed like a weapon, until he had no heart left?
Would he turn on Kinlear, too...the way the others had?
“Swear it,” Kinlear blurted.
Arawn blinked back at him. “What?”
“Swear it on the Five,” Kinlear said, “that you will always be loyal tome.And I will always be loyal toyou. No matter what happens.”
He held out his hand, the one swollen and covered in a fresh mark of penance.
“The Sacred do not swear...” Arawn said, staring back at him. “And besides, I don’t?—”
“Just do it,” Kinlear said, sighing. And when Arawn still didn’t take his hand, he whispered, “I’ll tell Soraya you like her if you don’t.”
At that, Arawn’s eyes went wide.
He reached for Kinlear’s hand, a mirror to his own, and swore it.
“So, I suppose my fate has been decided,” Kinlear said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll go south and become a great and pious Scribe, while you train and grow bigger than a war bear. And someday, I’ll be the one that prepares your gear for battle when you’re king.”
“I hope you train well, in Touvre, then,” Arawn said. He paused. “Oh, and... I got you this.”
“A parting gift?” Kinlear asked. “How considerate of you to remember your lowly little brother, Crown Prince.”
