There was no suitable response. Yes, the king had died in front of him. In his arms, even. Yes, he would gladly have given his life for the king. Yes, he had failed in his duty. He would live with that guilt—that awareness of his failure—every day for the rest of his life.
But he had also been at war for years. Fighting in the desperate campaigns on the bleak northern border and joining the raiding parties creeping through the high mountain passes as their enemies gathered on all sides. He had accepted long ago that people died in battle. Even kings.
The Hawks had been betrayed by the northern princess and her lover, Val. Their secret location handed to their enemies and their strategies revealed by the man who should have been their closest ally.
Gods. A man he had trusted and relied on had deceived them all. Tor had lost his friend, his king, his home, and the position he had worked so hard for. And it was quickly becoming clear that his parents would do nothing to help.
He had known that Pellin and Revna would be thrown into turmoil by the loss of the king. Their noble family had been staunch supporters of the royal line, their lives deeply entrenched in the politics of the council, and their powerful position at court had been intrinsically linked with their allegiance to Geraint. Now the old king was gone, and they would need to quickly switch allegiance to Ballanor, the son Geraint had never respected—the prince that the council, too, had disregarded—or Pellin’s position might be threatened.
Stupidly, even knowing that their status at court would be threatened by the loss of Geraint, Tor had not imagined that they would choose to blame him for their precarious politics.
He should have known better. Failure had never been acceptable. Not when he was a child, and certainly not now.
Tor flexed his fingers, fighting the urge to crack his knuckles, knowing how much his mother hated it. “I’m as sorry as you are that Geraint is dead, but there is nothing I can do to change it.”
Revna surged to her feet in a flurry of perfume and red velvet. “Yes, there is. You can leave the Hawks and throw yourself on the mercy of King Ballanor. You can support us in keeping this family in its rightful position. Not drag us down with you.”
Tor shook his head slowly. “Mother, your position here at court has nothing to do with me. The council will need to—”
“Your behavior reflects on us, Tor,” Pellin interrupted. “You are a failure, a risk to this kingdom, and we will be seen in the same light.”
Tor held his hands rigidly at his sides, working to keep his voice smooth and polite as he disagreed. “What happened at Ravenstone has no bearing on Ballanor’s relationship with the council. Any difficulties you might have with the new king are because of the way the council treated him.”
His mother sniffed. “The council supported Geraint.Youlet Geraint die.Youput us in this position.”
Gods. She was determined not to understand. “No, Mother—”
She cut him off. “Your father and I are trying to fix this. If you use this opportunity to prove to Ballanor that you support him, it will reflect well on all of us. Perhaps you know something about the Hawks that you could share? Something that would gain his favor?”
He flinched. Was she genuinely suggesting that he stab his squad in the back in some desperate attempt to curry favor with Ballanor?
He shook his head. “Mother, the Hawks did nothing wrong. You must know that it won’t help anything if I go to Ballanor now. The new king has exiled us, trying to force myself into his circle will only make things worse.”
Pellin looked at his wife. His lip remained curled, his arms folded over his chest, but otherwise, his emotions were as unreadable as always. Unsurprisingly. The men of their family did not show their feelings. Not ever.
“I told you they were exiled,” Pellin muttered toward his wife. “Ballanor wants them gone.”
Tor blinked. “You already knew? That we were being demoted?”
“Yes, we already knew.” Pellin’s nostrils flared. “Everybody knows. The entire court is talking about it. About how you’ve dishonored our family and shamed us, risked our position here, your brothers’ future—”
Tor folded his arms across his chest, mirroring his father. He had failed. And he had brought dishonor to the family. That was true. And yet…. “I was betrayed; we all were. I can’t change it, any more than you can change the fact that you voted with Geraint and against Ballanor on the many occasions that the king disagreed with the prince.”
Pellin looked Tor up and down, his face blank except for that tiny sneer. “You’re right; I can’t change that I stood against Ballanor in the past, but I can certainly show him that we stand with him now. I—we—can demonstrate to Ballanor that we do support him, that we have recognized his authority. We can save our position here.”
Revna nodded slowly. “You can still fix this, Tor. I accept that you can’t go to Ballanor, but you can take up the offer to join the Wraiths. They are Ballanor’s men; they’ll get you closer to the king. You turned them down before, but that was a mistake. Even you must see that now.”
Even him. What did that mean?
He might have asked, but she was still speaking. “Apologize, Tor. Publicly. Ask for a place among the men who have never wavered in their support of our new king. Show them, and Ballanor, where your true loyalty lies. Whereourloyalty lies.”
Tor let his head hang down for a moment before raising his chin tiredly and meeting her eyes. He had never wanted to be a part of the Wraiths. Never wanted the status or the riches enough to justify the politics or the ruthless maneuvering that they excelled at.
Yes, the Hawks were never rewarded as richly or given the status that the Wraiths had—but in the end, it was still the Hawks the king had trusted as his personal guard. Precisely because they couldn’t be bought. And now it was too late anyway. “Mother, the Wraiths are gone. None of them returned from the massacre at Ravenstone.”
Revna waved his words away. “That can’t—”
Tor interrupted her. “Men died today, Mother. Many of them. I’ve seen the squads returning, and the Wraiths were not among them. Changing allegiance is not an option.”
