Rhen glances over but says nothing. Wordlessly, he changes course, heading along the cobblestone walkway toward the stables.
“Forgive me,” he says after a while. “I did not consider it. I should have.”
I’m off balance now, because I wasn’t anticipating this kind of conversation. Maybe he wasn’t either.
“It was a long time ago,” I say.
And it was—for both of us. But I can’t look at the walls of the courtyard without remembering the flickering torchlight, the shackles clamped around my wrists, the bite of the whip as it tore through my flesh over and over again. Until that moment, I’d thought nothing could be worse than what those soldiers did to my sisters and me when I was a child.
Now it’s my turn to involuntarily shudder—to look at the sky, thetrees, to inhale the spring air and center myself. To feel the armor on my back and the weapons that are never far from my hands.
I’m here. I’m safe.
Once I’m steady, Rhen glances over. “You’re far more generous than I would be.”
He yielded a kingdom to his brother, so I’m fairly sure that’s not true. But I shrug and keep walking.
We’ve never talked about this. I’m not sure what to say.
“The courtyard isn’tallbad memories,” I offer. “Sometimes I have to remind myself that it’s just a place.”
“The arena isn’t all bad memories either,” he agrees, and it almost sounds as if he’s trying to convince himself. “Grey and I would match swords every day to try to stave off the boredom. He was very good. He’d never yield.”
“Do you miss it?”
“The curse?” His shoulders are tense. “Never.”
“No.” I glance over. He never wears weapons or armor, but he must have been a great swordsman, especially if he sparred with the king. “Do you miss the swordplay?”
He gestures to his face, his missing eye. “It wouldn’t be the same.”
“Have you tried?”
He doesn’t answer. We’ve reached the stables, and the guards there step forward to roll the doors open. Two dozen equine heads poke their heads out to see who’s coming in, hopeful for an extra ration of grain. Mercy rattles her hoof against the door and whickers when she sees me, her ears pricked.
I smile. “I’ll have to bring you an apple later,” I call to her.
“Here,” says Rhen, and I turn to see him offering me a handful of hard caramels.
I’m doubly surprised. But maybe this was always his destination, because he keeps some for himself, then feeds them to his own horse.
Mercy laps hers from my palm, then blows warm breaths against my neck while she mouths the candies, leaving a trail of drool to find its way inside my armor.
“Lovely,” I say to her.
Rhen joins me by her stall, rubbing under her mane. She noses at him for candies, too, and he feeds her one.
“I haven’t tried,” he admits, and it hasn’t been so long that I’ve lost the track of our conversation. “After I lost my eye, the simplest things caused me difficulty. Pouring a glass of water. Walking down steps. When we travel to unfamiliar cities, Harper has to walk on my blind side. Swordplay would just be one more way to fail.”
“You’d learn to accommodate,” I say. I think of Jax, how he was so reluctant to put his hand on the bow, and then his first shot flew fifty yards. “I think you’d surprise yourself.”
“Maybe.” He feeds Mercy another caramel. “I didn’t bring you out here to talk about me. Tell me what my brother has done wrong.”
I sigh. “The fault is mine. Grey’s done nothing wrong.”
He scoffs. “I highly doubtthat.”
I whip my head around, and Rhen smiles, a little shrewdly, a little sadly. “You are more ardently loyal than even he was, Tycho. If you and Grey have found a point of conflict, I would bet good silver that the fault is on his side.”
