I’d felt the pull within me ever since I woke up, but it was faint, almost as if it were a memory. It was nothing like the unquestionable need that’d had me following the ball of light in my dream.
When I told him this, he simply nodded, mounted his horse, and confidently said, “Let’s see how far we get.”
We drew attention as we left the Citadel’s inner walls and navigated the rest of the city. Amidst the bows, everyone greeted Harthon with his title or some other formality, but to my surprise, some extended those greetings to me. Not all who regarded me did so with the wariness and fear I’d grown used to.
Harthon must have noticed this too, because when we finally exited the city gates, he said, “It’s because of what you did at the end of the justice hearing. Word spread. They respect you more.”
I gave a small smile at that, falling into a trot beside Harthon as we skirted the city. Riding had yet to feel natural, and I didn’t control my mare with nearly as much grace as Harthon, who rode as if one with his animal. But I could steer, stop, and speed into trots andgallops—plenty to get by. According to Jac, it was far more than most could do at my stage.
The hills and valley that I knew from the tower’s window finally appeared around the curve of the city walls. My body hummed in response, and relief came at the sensation. The last thing I’d wanted was to waste our time venturing out of the city. It still wasn’t as strong as my feeling in the dream, but it was as if I were standing at the base of the tower’s stairs.
We descended into the valley’s tall yellow grasses, and I twisted to find Harthon watching me. “You feel it now, don’t you?”
I nodded, wondering how he knew.
“The gold in your eyes looks brighter,” he observed, and I wished I had a mirror.
I’d never looked at my eyes when I felt the tug. Then again, I never made it a point to study them in general. While my brown irises were long gone, it was still startling to see such unnatural colors on my face. It still felt like they belonged to a stranger, not to me.
I often wondered if they’d be changed forever. Part of me thought they’d turn back to brown once I led Harthon through the tunnels, and I hoped that was the case, even if Harthon thought these eyes were pretty.
As we approached the base of the hills sometime later, we slowed to a walk, giving us a respite before tackling the looming incline. The break was more for me than Harthon, my muscles not used to riding at such a pace for so long.
“We’re still waiting for a window to get to Merelda and Marsik,” Harthon said, clearly displeased with the slow progress.
“How will you know when it’s the right time to go?”
“When Koerlyn doesn’t have so many of his people crawling our borders. Sneaking through his Territory would be easy for our men, but sneaking out with two untrained people is the difficulty. Ourspies suspect he’ll relax patrols soon, given that we aren’t attacking at the moment. If we have to, we’ll circle around using the ocean, but it’s a long journey, and the weather this time of year is unpredictable.”
I wished we could get to them sooner, but the last thing I wanted was for his men to die because of poor timing. Harthon was doing everything he could, prioritizing them while juggling the other crises stacked high on his plate.
“Do you like being Princeps?” I asked.
He seemed so surprised by the question, I wondered if he’d ever been asked it before. I supposed it was safe to assume all Princepes enjoyed their positions, considering the comfort, power, and wealth that usually came with it. But Harthon wasn’t like all Princepes.
“It’s more about duty than liking.”
“You made yourself into Fourth’s Princeps, but you feel like you’re forced into this role?” I didn’t mean the question as a challenge; it was just curiosity.
“I know how it sounds. It seems like I had a choice, but sometimes, the world lays a path for you that you cannot refuse. You’re given a duty to others, whether you intended to have it or not, and you can’t say no. If you do, you’re a worthless coward.”
Just as I had to lead Harthon into the Domus, to the lifesaving resources there, because no one else could. A little more than a week ago, I wouldn’t have understood him.
A little more than a week ago, you were all but a worthless coward.
“What made you realize you have this duty?”
Harthon glanced over, gauging me before returning his sights to the hill ahead. “My father was a bad man. He led a mercenary group, and I grew up as part of them. We did a lot of Tamen’s dirty bidding, and we terrorized people.”
Caught off guard, I schooled my features. He was unveiling his past. I had deduced that he’d had a difficult childhood, his reaction tothe looter boy clearly giving that away. But when he mentioned his father and Tamen, there was a loathing in his voice that pointed to hatred and horror. He didn’t elaborate on whatdirty biddingmeant, but I couldn’t ask him to. This wasn’t something he spoke lightly about.
It wasn’t something he’d spoken atallabout. For some reason, he was willing to now.
Without me even asking, he offered even more. “I grew up in the devastation caused by corruption. I witnessed suffering more horrible than most can imagine. I…participated in it. Caused some of it.” Raw guilt weighed the confession.
“You were a child. You’re blameless,” I reminded him. He was the furthest thing from a terrorizing mercenary. Whatever he was forced into as a child, when he was powerless and didn’t know any better, wasn’t his fault.
He didn’t acknowledge my reassurance. “As I grew older, I knew I could be a leader who was different, one who put an end to the suffering and helped people instead of hurting them, and it didn’t seem like anyone else would be taking that role. When I split from my father and created my own mercenary group, I built the power necessary to take that leadership. I killed my father, I killed Tamen, and then I became Princeps.” The words were fiercely unapologetic. Clearly, there was no love lost between him and his father. “Had someone better than me been striving for the same, I wouldn’t have taken the throne.”
