But our queen married a magesmith—which the Truthbringershate.
Where does that put their loyalty? Can you respect someone and still deride their choices? If they want to kill the king,isthat loyalty? Or is that treason?
Mother told Father he should have enlisted, but he didn’t. She didn’t force him to do it. She didn’t take his choice. Just like he didn’t want her to go off to war—but he didn’t stop her.
Is it any different from Alek repairing my barn when I told him not to? He thinks he’s doing the right thing, and from the outside, itlookslike a benevolent action … but is it?
I don’t want to think about this too hard. I’m too involved, and the answer feels like it will hurt. But I’m realizing what’s at the heart of my distrust of Alek.
Taking a choice away from someone else isn’t devotion, and it isn’t loyalty.
He talked about Jax playing dangerous games, but Alek is playing the most dangerous one of all. A game of make-believe with lethal stakes: disguisingcontrolas faithful devotion.
Disguising assassination as an act ofprotection.
I just wanted to save the bakery. I just wanted to protect my sister.
It was just supposed to be a few letters.
“Cally-cal?”
I look over. Nora stands in my doorway.
“Good morning,” I say. “I’m going to need you to milk Muddy May. I have something I need to do.”
CHAPTER 40
JAX
Tycho was wrong. He’s been sleeping soundly for hours, his chest rising and falling with each breath. I feel rather certain I could grab hold of those knives and he’d have no idea.
Or maybe not. He surprised me before.
I don’t try. He has many days of travel ahead of him. He should rest.
I, on the other hand, have been awake all night. I’ve all but convinced myself that the instant I fall asleep, I’ll awaken to an empty room full of sunlight. Every time I begin to drift off, my thoughts remind me that he’s here, that he’s real, that I can inhale his scent and taste his skin and feel the beat of his heart.
It’s early, but nottooearly. The room is dark and cool, but I can see the bare start of light through my shutters. Any other morning, I’d be clanging away beside the forge already, getting a head start on the day’s projects.
Right now, there’s no way I’m moving.
Once day breaks, he’ll be gone. He’ll wake, buckle his armor in place, and ride off on his horse. This may as well have been a dream.
My gaze falls on his fingers, loosely curled against the blanket. I wonder what happened with the king. Tycho is always close-lipped when it comes to royalty, by virtue of his position, I’m sure. Last night was no different.
But he’s always spoken of the king with such devotion. I saw the shadows in his eyes when he confirmed his rings were gone.
Something happened. Especially since he’s returning to Emberfall so quickly. I truly didn’t expect to see him for another week, atleast.
Tycho inhales deeply, and his eyes blink open.
For an instant, I’m frozen in place. My chest tightens before I’m ready for the emotion.
But his eyes find mine, and he presses his palm to my cheek. “Jax,” he says, and his voice is soft and low. There’s a tiny edge to his pronunciation of my name, as if his accent is stronger when he first wakes, which makes me smile. But then he says something I can’t understand atall, and I turn my head to kiss the inside of his wrist.
“Unless you need me to shoe a horse,” I say, “I can’t speak much Emberish.”
He startles, then smiles. His voice is rough and worn from sleep, and he rubs at his eyes. “Forgive me,” he says in Syssalah.
