Now, it was gone, and I felt so much lighter, like an ache I’d lived with for my entire life had finally been relieved.
“Did the potion get rid of him?”
Alandris frowned. “I’m sorry. It won’t be that simple. It will quiet him for some time, though. How does it feel?”
“Odd,” I admitted. “Odd, but nice. I’ve had him in my head for so long, I don’t know how to feel about the sudden emptiness. He didn’t always speak, but I could feel him there, you know? A pressure.”
I looked at the bottle in my hand. There were likely enough doses to last a couple of months. “Is extended use something I should be concerned about? Are there side effects?”
“I am more worried about Zaelos figuring out what we are doing. Don’t take it unless absolutely necessary. The potion itself is safe, but I don’t trust that he won’t retaliate.”
I nodded. “Fine, but what are we doing?”
“Plotting his removal.” Alandris stood from his chair. “There is something I must show you. In three days’ time, take two drops, and meet me here at dawn.”
Iwasn’t comfortable with how I’d left things with my crew. They were my friends, my family, and the only people who’d provided me a chance at freedom. While I couldn’t understand their motivations or their reason for hiding things from me, I didn’t want to contribute to us drifting apart. If there was something I could do to repair our fractures, I wanted to do it. So, after lessons, I made my way to the quarters where they were staying, committed to come to some sort of compromise.
Lorian sat in the primary study, his feet kicked up on the table, and a book in his hands. Kaelias and Makatza were nowhere to be found, and based on the quiet and startling lack of chaos, I had to assume they were elsewhere in the Consortium, perhaps facing off against Kaz again in a test of fighting prowess.
I studied his face for a moment, taking advantage of the fact that I’d been quiet enough not to alert him to my presence in the doorway immediately. Whatever he was reading had his brow furrowed in focus, though I couldn’t quite peep the title from where I stood. I was delaying the inevitable tough conversation,of course, but I was choosing to blame it on his lack of situational awareness, not my lack of confidence.
Another few steps into the room and his eyes—light brown and swirling with golden sunlight—met mine and softened. The visible sigh that left his lips said many things at once. An apology. A plea. Pity.
I took a seat next to him and noted he’d been reading a book on Elven history. A great surprise, considering what little I knew of his past—he had no desire to ever return to his homelands in Val’Naeris. I didn’t think he’d held much interest in his heritage at all.
“I feel trapped,” Lorian began, breaking the silence between us. “And since I feel this way, I can only imagine how you must feel.”
“Then why don’t we leave? We don’t have to deal with this here. I’ll be safer out on the seas.”
He shook his head as though it pained him. “That isn’t why I feel trapped, Nairu. This is the safest place for you, but I’m trapped by my guilt, by how badly I want to explain things to you, and by the knowledge that if I do so, I could very well be damning you to a fate worse than death.”
He held up a hand before I could refute his claim. “I know—it doesn’t make sense, and it isn’t fair. You deserve better. You deserved an easier life. If you don’t wish to be a part of this crew after everything, I’ll support your decision. But don’t believe for a second that you are not welcome on my ship. You will always be a part of the Phoenix Heart.”
There was an irrefutable genuineness to Lorian’s words. No obvious tell of a lie in sight. I could hear it in the wobble of his voice, the swallow of emotions that made it difficult for him to speak in more than a whisper. Whatever burdened him, whatever he felt forced to withhold from me, was indeed eating away at him.
It came down to trust. Maybe I couldn’t ask him what he knew about me, but I could ask him about himself.
“Lorian, what happened between you and Zorinna?”
The question caused him to startle, his mouth parting and brow shooting up. He cleared his throat before clarifying, “You are asking about why I left Val’Naeris?”
I nodded.
He hesitated, face darkening as he recalled his past. “My parents’ expectations were suffocating. I’d been raised since childhood for a life of politics in the Elven court. My memories are of endless lessons and tutelage. I remember watching other children from my window, playing in the streams and rolling in the mud, and wishing that I could be like them just for a single day. Some would consider my upbringing a blessing, but for me, it felt like a gilded cage.
I’d resigned myself to fulfilling their dreams, being a dutiful son, as they expected. I played the part well into adulthood until… until they arranged a marriage for me to one of King Zaelthrian’s daughters. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a perfectly fine, beautiful female who would only raise mine and my family’s station.”
“But you loved another.”
“Is it so obvious?” He quirked a brow. “Yes, I loved another. It didn’t matter so much that it was another male. It is not uncommon in the Elven culture, but rather the issue was that this someone could offer my family no political gain. Such a love, based solely on itself and presenting no benefits to the family, is unacceptable—especially a love which is unrequited.”
I was far too familiar with the pressure of expectation. Lorian and I were more similar than I’d ever realized. The two of us were raised for a singular purpose, and one that we didn’t believe in or want. For me, it was faith; for him, politics. Both were ultimately for power. But we wanted freedom above all.
“So you left to escape the marriage and the pressure. Did your sister not understand your reasoning?”
Lorian looked down at his lap. “I never told her the truth of why I left. It was easier to act out. Drinking, fucking, pissing away my responsibilities. I went from the ideal son to an absolute menace in a matter of months. My family all thought I’d snapped from the weight of it all. They deemed me longer capable, and so they didn’t fight me on it when I left. They had a back-up plan, after all.
“I never considered the life I was dooming her to by leaving. Zorinna was always the perfect daughter. She’d have been the ideal choice to lead the family, had she been the eldest. Like my parents, I didn’t contemplate her desires; I merely believed the role suited her. I was selfish. I know that, so I don’t expect her to forgive me.”
