“You will deliver me to the prince, as planned, and you will ride straight for your family. You will put them first, as you always have.” We heard the unspoken words, trapped behind my tongue.
I will not let you put me before them. I will not allow you to care for me more than you care for them.
Because he couldn’t.
Chapterthirty-one
Seren
The trees of the Varázis Erva grew denser and darker with every drumbeat of Quin’s steady hooves against the forest floor. Looming spruce and eerie birch rose around us, blotting out the sky above with their twisting boughs and green-black needles. Only the barest hint of light seeped in, though the day had long since bloomed.
I spent the whole of the morning contemplating what would come next. I knew there were questions that I must ask Harkin, but I hesitated. The more space I put between us, the better.
He had a responsibility to keep his family safe. I understood that—I would not stand in his way—but the knowledge did nothing to quench the ache beneath my ribs.
Trees reached for each other, boughs outstretched like grasping fingers. They grew so closely that our legs brushed rough bark. Each sway of Equinox’s broad flank knocked us into needles and knots. Harkin pressed me forward until I was leaning over Quin’s silky mane, his chest flush with my back and hips rocking against mine as he covered me and absorbed the swipes of stray branches.
My voice was a whisper, words dying on my lips as I forced them out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Tell me about the king.”
“The king?” Harkin repeated, confusion seeping into his tone.
“I have made my decision about following my path to Prince Claudian, but I have not yet decided what will happen when I do. He means to murder the king. I need to know if that is a plot worth defying,” I explained, running my fingers through Quin’s black mane.
Harkin did not respond for some time, as if considering his words carefully. “Ren, please. Do not interfere.”
“Harkin,” I chided, voice firm. “Answer the question.”
A great sigh heaved from his chest, pressing him more firmly to me. His warm breath swept across my bare neck, and I shivered.
“He does the best that he can.” His voice was strained as if he did not quite believe the words even as he said them.
“Alright. Now, the truth this time. Is King Tarquin a good man? Is he a fair king?”
Harkin’s fingers squeezed my elbow, holding on to me without seeming to notice. His hesitancy was confirmation enough, but I still wanted the words spoken aloud.
“If he were a fair king and a good man, I likely would not have had to become a mercenary to provide for my family. Acsillan citizens would not struggle to put food on their tables. They would not be forced to fight in pointless battles that have led to no reward. I am sure King Tarquin does the best he can with a heart as bitter and cold as his, but he is no fairytale royal. There would be no love lost if his life were forfeit.” Harkin spoke quickly, as if he did not want to say the words but felt them tumbling out regardless.
The trees began to thin, midday light pouring over us as the branches above grew sparser. The space between trunks widened, and Equinox moved more freely. Harkin pulled away, allowing me to sit up once more.
My back ached, and my neck twinged. I rubbed at them as I considered my response. “Is that enough reason to condemn someone to death?” I asked. I did not know if the question was for Harkin or myself or the Goddesses.
“I don’t know. I—” Harkin’s voice broke, suddenly thick with emotion. “I have ended lives before, under Claudian’s orders. Some of them were bad people, many were not, but all of them weigh on me, even years past. I do not think I have the knowledge or authority to tell you what is right or wrong in this situation. All I know is that I don’t want you anywhere near this mess, this danger.”
My stomach dropped, a heavy stone in my belly. My eyes drifted shut, and I breathed through the overwhelm. Finally, I whispered, “I know.”
“Everyone I care about ends up in danger.” He spoke so quietly, I strained to hear him. I turned, body twisting in the saddle. “As long as they are associated with me, they will never know peace, and in my worry for them,Iwill never know peace. It is my curse.”
My heart leapt at the insinuation. That he might care for me. I pushed the feeling down as far as I could manage—shoved it deep beneath blood and bone and marrow. I noted how he refused to meet my eye.
“What of the prince?” I prompted. “What will become of Acsilla—of the people you care about—if he is allowed to rule?”
Harkin stiffened, his gaze coming up to mine. “Chaos. Murder. Suffering. Much of the same. The two are brothers, after all, and both changed after losing the women they loved, but the prince holds a vindictiveness that the king does not. Acsilla would be no better under Claudian than Tarquin.”
“Would it be worse?”
“Potentially.”
“Then I think you know what I must do,” I continued before he could protest. “It ismydecision, Harkin. Mine, alone, and I cannot stand by while others suffer if there is a chance I might make a difference. I have spent years of my life running in one place. No more. I will go to the Acsillan Palace, and I will fight to make this world a better place for your family and others like them.”
