“You told me it was a kindness. You didn’t say why.”
I keep a studied gaze on the houses as I answer, letting my eyes wander deep into the shadows of their darkened halls.
“You can’t think too highly of me if you think I need a reason to be kind to a child,” I say, “Maybe you think I’m incapable of kindness because I’m La’tarian, or human, but in either case you’d be wrong. I’ve seen enough suffering to last a lifetime. I’ve watched as those who could give chose not to, willing to let those who’d been born without suffer an undeserving fate.”
His body tenses behind me.
“I decided long ago not to be one of those that stood by.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I chose to act instead of remaining complacent, even when that kindness was an act of futility.”
“There is no futility in kindness,” he says, and I huff a bitter laugh.
“Maybe not on this continent,” I say.
“Did it ever occur to you that there might be something to that?” he asks.
“It occurs to me that the A’kori have more than they need and still leave those across the sea to suffer their fate,” I snap.
“La’tari propaganda,” he bites back, “You should know that the A’kori send regular shipments of food to the coastal villages, we’ve factored those shipments into every harvest since the war ended.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I say, “If that were true those villagers wouldn’t be dying of starvation.”
“They wouldn’t be,” he agrees, “That is, if the La’tari military allowed them to keep those food stores.”
His cloak does nothing to block the chill that settles into my bones when he speaks the last. My entire being rebels against the idea that my people would steal food meant for the poor.
Memories of my younger self surge to the forefront of my mind, memories of a small boy and an apple that helped him along to his untimely death. Isn’t that exactly what I’d seen? The La’tari regime taking food stores from the coastal villages to feed their ranks and bait the starving into conscription.
“The king would never allow that,” I say and as soon as it slips off my tongue, I can taste the lie that it is.
“You don’t believe that,” he says quietly.
I don’t argue. There is nothing to say. He has no idea just how deeply this hard truth cuts into the core of the woman I am. I tell myself that it isn’t without reason those food stores were taken. But what reason could be good enough to allow those people to starve?
We settle into an uncomfortable silence, the guards only offering brief nods as we pass through the gates of the palace grounds. Without the flickering light cast by the bright pillars that illuminate the streets of A’kori darkness falls like a thick blanket around us, the moon obscured by a patchy layer of clouds passing overhead.
“I never had the chance to apologize earlier.” His voice breaks the silence. “For how I made you feel this morning.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I assure him, “You didn’t say anything I don’t already know.”
“I know what you think you heard, but I never said the king wouldn’t find you attractive.” I laugh, and he adds, “I can tell you don’t believe me. I just don’t know why.”
“Why did you laugh at me then?” I ask, pinning him with a stare, daring him to convince me he’d meant anything else.
“I laughed because your uncle does nothing to conceal his intentions. It had nothing to do with what I personally think of you. You shouldn’t let it deter you from pursuing the king when he returns, if that is your wish.I’ve known him my entire life and I assure you; he is more concerned with the quality of a mind and the sincerity of a heart than he is about things pertaining to vanity.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s a compliment,” I say.
He releases a heavy sigh and a whisper muffled by my hair, “So difficult.”
“Besides, I already told you, I have no designs on your king.”
His gaze doesn’t shift from mine, but he remains quiet, and I think he might leave it at that when he says, “I believe you. But if you change your mind, I will put in a good word for you.”
I know I should snap the offer out of the air before the wind drags it away. It’s everything I’ve waited for, but I bristle that he finds me incapable of making it in front of the king on my own merit. I have never been one to beg for help.
“I’d think if someone was worthy of a meeting with your king, you wouldn’t need to speak on their behalf,” I say.
He doesn’t reply. The lights of the palace come into view over the rise of the land, its tall spires lost in the moonlit clouds on their ascent toward the heavens. His thumb brushes against my waist, idly smoothing the thin fabric of my gown in a wide sweep. My stomach clenches under the attention, my breath catching in my throat. His hand stills and the male glares down at it, as if he can see the hand beneath the barrier of cloaks and it somehow offended him.
