She frowns, her weapon arm relaxing. “What in the cursed wilds are you talking about? You’re The Emerald Bulwark. Defender of Goldenmere. You held the western wall alone, buying precious moments for villagers to flee when reinforcements would not have arrived in time. You toppled siege towers with nothing but your strength, grit, and force of will. No one doubts your prowess in battle.”
I grunt, heat flaring through me. “Precisely. In battle. I know how to handle soldiers. How to address them, how to solve the problems they come to me with. I know what to expect.” I sigh, the admission clawing to stay buried deep in my chest. “The same cannot be said for nobility.”
Hilduin’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open in a soft ‘oh.’
“But I hear you, friend,” I add, the frigid air seeping into me more than normal.
The captain’s pained look only makes me feel more foolish for admitting my weakness. She eyes me like a lame foal that needs to be put down. It’s worse than any disgust or fear I’ve endured from courtiers.
The hard slant of her brow fading, Hilduin glances back over her shoulder, making the distracted guards snap back to their drills with pointed attention.
“If you want to join us today,” she starts, the mixture of pity and reluctance in her voice churning up shame in my gut.
“No, I came to—”
“Thereyou are,” Valenar calls, saving me from inventing a cover to save face. “I thought we were meeting in the keep andcoming down together,” he adds, quick strides bringing him to my side while Hilduin takes her cue and quick-steps away before the moment can get any more awkward.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, once she’s out of earshot.
Val shrugs. “I could tell you were sinking.”
“From across the courtyard?” I ask skeptically. He’s always been good at reading people, myself unfortunately included, but it’s a bold claim even for him.
“Your tells are obvious,” he says. “And I may have overheard Hilduin practicing her speech in the shower.”
The frozen air cuts to my bone, and I want the world to open up and swallow me. I’ve been exactly the kind of overbearing leader I typically deride. And everyone’s noticed.
“I hate to sound like I have nothing else to advise, but…you cannot restore the throne by avoiding it.”
My jaw clenches, the ground underfoot melting with an audible hiss. “If you want to have this discussion again, I suggest you grab your daggers.”
“Really?” Val asks, sounding exasperated while rolling his eyes, but I see the quirk of a smile lifting the corners of his mouth, and then the flash of steel as he palms a dagger.
Good.
At least with fighting I know what I’m doing. I don’t have to question my every move.
“You claimed this throne, now it’s time to act like it,” Val says, rushing me with a dagger in each hand.
I plant my feet and turn toward him just in time to block, the first dagger scraping along the stone of my shoulder, the impact sending Val veering off-course.
“I did what I had to,” I grunt, warding off another attack. “Farandir’s addiction was killing the reach. It was my duty to remove him.”Not my duty to replace him. The second half remains unspoken, but Valenar has heard the argument enough times to finish it for me.
He doesn’t understand, though. He’s from Sable, a reach that needs nothing and no one. Emerald is different; it’s a living thing as much as any of the guards around me, and it doesn’t deserve to die for the sickness of one demon. What it needs is someone to care for it and nurse it back to health.
What it’s got is me.
Cutting out the rot I managed just fine, but healing the resulting wound? That’s beyond my skillset. Something that Valenar—despite his foreign origin—would be much better equipped to handle.
As if sensing the argument on the tip of my tongue—or more likely, anticipating what I’ll say next because it’s the same argument I’ve had since we first began planning our coup—Valenar jabs forward, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “And don’t say it should be me,” he says in time with his strike. I move to block, and in doing so, leave my other side open. Both of his hands are in sight, so I’m actually surprised when I feel the point of his dagger against my back, threatening my kidney.
His damn tail.I know better than to discount it.
“It should,” I say, both of us frozen.
The point of the blade digs in.
“No matter how good I am with charm and words, the men have always looked toyoufor guidance,” he argues.
