I took his hand. “Whatever it is, I accept you as you are. And I'll accept it if you don't want to tell me.”
Rian let out a harsh breath. “You . . . Galin . . . thank you.”
I nodded.
“The truth is,” he started again, “I poured salt into this wound every chance I got. I wanted this scar.”
“Why?”
“Because my best friend gave it to me right before I killed him.”
A lance of pain shot through me. Not my pain. His. It went from his stare, his heart, into me. “Oh, Rian. I'm so sorry.”
Rian shook his head. “It was something we both had accepted when we entered the tourney. We knew one of us, or both of us would die. Maybe by each other's hands.”
“Then why enter?”
“Because our kingdom was faltering. One of us had to rule and our chances were better if we both entered the tourney.”
“It was that bad that you felt you had to sacrifice your life?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “And Jaris, as he died, smiled at me. He smiled, and he said, 'Now, you have to win.'”
“Oh, fuck.” I gaped at him. “Rian, that's fucking horrible!”
Rian gaped at me, then started to laugh. It was a chuckle at first, then grew into a guffaw.
“Stop it!” I finally smacked his arm, though I was grinning.
He settled down, took my hand, and kissed it. “He would have liked you.”
“Your dead friend?” I drawled. “Great. Thanks.”
His voice gone soft, Rian said, “I think it may be time to let go of him.”
“You still haven't? After all these years?”
“No.” He smiled, but it was bitter. “We were young, full of our ideals. As I aged, I realized how foolish we'd been. To throwone of our lives away. To risk us both. Another man could have ruled. Or one of us could have entered alone. Or—”
“Stop it,” I cut him off.
“Yes, you see how I haven't let it go. It has only gotten worse over the years. The guilt and the regret.”
“Jaris wouldn't want that.”
“No, he wouldn't.” Rian cupped my cheek. “Thank you for listening. Speaking about it has lessened the weight on my heart.”
“When you need to lessen it again, I'll listen some more.” I turned my head to kiss his palm. Then my stomach rumbled.
Rian snorted. “You are an endless pit of hunger.”
“I am indeed.” I grimaced in apology.
“Go on then. Let's focus on happier matters.”
I grinned. “Like food.”
“Yes. Speaking of which, how did you make what I assume was an old loaf of bread taste as if it were fresh out of the oven?” Rian held up a slice of bread.
