He had, from the time he was born, been raised like a little prince. Which was partially why he’d been adopted into the palace. He’d had all the education and military training a prince would. It was easy to see in moments like these.
I let the clang of metal on metal ring across the yard and wash over me. My eyes were not on the fight itself, but on James, his expression. He did not look his cheerful self. His mouth stayed pressed into a flat line, and the hint of dark circles under his eyes emphasized his restless night. His movements lagged, not sharp and precise like usual.
Dammit, I didn’t know what to do.
I felt wholly responsible for his nightmare last night, no matter what he said. My stomach churned from guilt for pushing him back into a dark headspace. I didn’t wish this on him,but I didn’t know the right path. Too much of what I saw, the possibilities before us, hinged upon him seizing responsibility before someone else could.
Was I wrong to push him?
But if James was not made king, I could only see the country burning. No one else would do the job he would. No one else would even let him stay in the palace as support, as the risk was too high. The majority of the citizens wanted James on the throne, and any rival would see James as a threat. He’d either be removed from the palace by force or assassinated before the coronation.
I couldn’t let such a dark future play out. I didn’t have all the answers, but neither did James.
There were other factors, too. James had told me everything he could, of course, but even he admitted he was an unreliable narrator at best. There were things he just didn’t know. Some, he hadn’t had a chance to learn. Others, he’d never been sure of, or he hadn’t realized something’s importance until well after the fact, so he didn’t get the details.
It left many a plot hole for me to somehow fill in. I didn’t have the slightest clue on how to go about filling those holes, either. I must, though, because we might both be doomed otherwise.
James felt certain he could bring me along with him to Paradise. The more I sat on this, the more sure I became that I couldn’t just tag along with him. After all, I’d done the same work alongside him in the first life, hadn’t I? And I hadn’t attained Paradise then. Doing the same thing and expecting different results was insanity.
No, I’d failed to do something in my last life. Something crucial.
It might be why James had died tragically.
A crash alerted me and I blinked, looking up to find James had lost the sparring match and was being pulled back up to hisfeet. Oh? He was truly not in good form today. It wasn’t like I’d never seen him lose—he had, but he generally won against Sir Pedan. Even Sir Pedan looked somewhat baffled by the win.
My James was worried. Incredibly so. I couldn’t blame him; I was just as worried. I didn’t know the right answer, but just letting things abide seemed the absolute worst choice to make.
James loved to brag about my intelligence (which was rich, coming from him). Time to see if I could put my so-called intellect to use and think up ways to make sure I got into Paradise. I couldn’t leave him alone. James apparently didn’t function well without me.
I paused, sending up a quick prayer to Nimus, as I could use some divine help right then. On second thought, I added Vuheia to the prayer, because I knew for a fact she was invested in this situation. Perhaps she’d show some mercy and throw a few hints.
All right, I’d start with the series of events from James’s previous life and see if that didn’t spark something.
First, James became king.
I still felt like he should become king again, but since he did that the first time without my help, that clearly wasn’t my Task.
The second thing he’d done as king was marry Princess Valentina. Who, by his account, was the worst choice ever. Knowing she had seemingly purposefully made every possible wrong move in helping her new country—had almost destroyed it despite James’s efforts—it seemed obvious to me that keeping her from being queen again was to our benefit. Plus, I just couldn’t let a bitch like her marry my James. I’d kill her myself first.
What else?
I wished I had his notebook on me; it would help me go through things chronologically. Thinking not-chronologically, I had to wonder: Why was I killed? That singular event destroyedJames. Even with me alive and breathing at his side, he still had nightmares about it.
I couldn’t help but think my death was a pawn in play. Which sounded morbid even to me, but the strategist in me had to wonder. I was sure that even though James had never said the words in his first life, people around him realized he loved me. He wasn’t good at dissembling in matters of the heart, for one, and I saw how obvious he was now. I truly believed others had picked up on those feelings and maybe used them to their advantage.
Knowing he loved me, was James right in his fear? Had the unknown assailant killed me on the eve of battle in order to give themselves a winning edge? Had the ones who had pried open the portal into the demon realm been behind my murder? I couldn’t think of any other reason. The timing was all too suspicious.
James said he wasn’t sure how the portal opened. One hundred years ago, when the Demon King rose the first time, cultists had been doing the legwork necessary to open the portal. We’d all assumed those cultists had died out, but what if someone had resurrected them? Or something similar to the cult had been created? I couldn’t imagine who else would be able to undo a magical ward and open a demonic portal. That took some serious strength, both on the divine and magical level.
I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose, fighting off a headache. There were just too many questions, not enough answers, and no way to find those answers. I could only guess.
If I was right and cultists were active, those stupid bastards might try to open that damn portal again. And my life was at stake—again—because of course I made a more obvious target now. Which might very well beanotherthing keeping James up at night.
No wonder the man had regular nightmares.
I’d already sworn to be more on my guard, but perhaps I should take even more precautions. To give James some peace of mind, if nothing else. I’d stick to the knights I trusted from now on. And James, of course. I wouldn’t get myself killed through carelessness.
My mind defaulted back to the original question. What had I promised to do in this life that was so vital, so pivotal, my own path to Paradise rested upon it? Was it even one thing? Multiple things?
