I straightened under the weight of those words. Dax kept scribbling, seemingly oblivious.
“Dax?” I whispered, as if too afraid to ask.
“Hmm?”
“Do you really think you’re not that important?”
The quill stopped scratching. The question hung heavy in the silence and the seconds that kept on ticking without an answer.
Finally, he sighed, leaned back in his chair, and looked up at me, face perfectly inscrutable. “Allie, it’s just a way of life.” The corners of his lips tightened, eyes glazing. “Thankfully, that lake didn’t end it yesterday.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“Let’s hope it’s the first and last time.” He shook his head. “Anyway–you and Evie have many more responsibilities on your shoulders than any of us will ever be burdened with. Sure, you’ll have some glory, people will talk about you, but it comes with consequences.”
“People talk about you, too,” I whispered, as if fearful someone would hear even in this empty room. “They just don’t know it.”
“And I want to keep it that way.” He winked at me, then turned serious. “You have to live your life by rules the rest of us aren’t caged by. You have to stand in front of crowds, say the right thing at the right time, make decisions for thousands of souls who can turn their backs on you at the smallest slight, imagined or not.”
Like the Protectorate had. Perhaps it was for the better. What if they’d taken the streets, calling out my name, only for me to disappoint them, too?
“You do that, too,” I said.
“If Iwantto, not because Ihaveto. That is freedom.Thatis why we’re different.” He shook his head. “I can’t speak for Clara or Dara, but, cousin–and forgive me for this–I would not trade my place with yours for anything in this existence or the next. Some days, I don’t even know how you can survive like this.”
I huffed a laugh that lacked all mirth. “Funny. That’s what I think about you.”
“Some people are meant for acclaim.” He shrugged again. He was doing that too much. “Others are meant for the shadows.”
I wanted to disagree.
I didn’t even know how.
My eyes drifted toward the window, watching the snow fall for the longest time. Each snowflake drifted down alone, on its own path, but it was always guided by the wind.
“Doesn’t truly matter anyway, does it?” I muttered. It sounded like defeat. “I’m no longer the heir. Clara is.”
It was the closest I could bring myself to the precipice of truth right now.
As Silas’ daughter, she would inherit the throne–and the crown. If he didn’t find a way to usurp her claim, too. Or if he didn’t lose his shaky one in the meantime.
He’d plotted with dangerous people who didn’t have a problem with killing whoever stood in their way. The second Silas stopped playing by their rules, whatever they were, he would be eliminated.
Dax remained silent, but he smacked his lips, displeased. He leaned back over the parchment. Just when I thought the matter settled, he muttered, “Not after you put that crown on your head.”
I closed my eyes, throat burning from the unspoken words and unshed tears.
“We can see Evie’s wedding,” I said. Anything to change the subject, even with more of those ugly realities.
This time, Dax actually whistled. “So the Commander does have a heart. And you discovered how to play with it.”
“Don’t be crass.” I wrinkled my nose and licked my lips, suddenly feeling exposed and not knowing why. “We’ll use a palaver portal.”
Saying it out loud made it feel so much smaller.
His slow-spreading smile vanished in an instant. “Tucked away, so nobody will see us, right?”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
