That wasn't likely.
"His mind doesn't know how to tell his body that the danger is over," Lemil continued. "It stays braced for it. A sudden sound, a smell, a shadow at the wrong angle, and he is back in that gymnasium with the incoming grenade as if it was happening right at that moment." He sighed. "Arlen has difficulty falling asleep and staying asleep because the nightmare keeps replaying in his mind. He keeps the world at a distance because anything can set him off. His moods run from flat to wild, and he is drowning in guilt, though he'll not speak of it."
"Guilt?" I frowned. "He saved Father's life. He has nothing to feel guilty for."
"The afflicted mind is not reasonable, Your Highness. He was the one who insisted on the training session. Your father was busy and wanted to cancel it, but Arlen pressed." Lemil winced. "I share in the guilt because I told Arlen to make sure your father trains at least two times a week to keep up his strength. The king can't allow himself to grow a belly like mine." He patted the aforementioned protrusion. "He has an image to uphold."
If the healer felt guilty for his small part in the matter, I could see how Arlen would blame himself even though it made no sense.
"Neither of you are to blame for what happened," I said. "Have you tried to explain it to Arlen?"
Lemil nodded. "He's not responding to logical arguments, and frankly, it is Prince Avren's fault that Arlen feels guilty."
"Avren? What did he do?"
"He told Arlen that instead of pushing your father out of the way he should have caught the grenade and thrown it back out the window."
There was something to that, because I remembered training to do just that, but there was a difference between training with props and training with a live grenade. I didn't think my training would have kicked in in a situation like that.
"That's also not a reason to blame himself, and I intend to have words with Avren about this. He spoke without thinking and injured our brother."
Lemil nodded. "Prince Avren needs to understand that this is not a weakness or a cowardice, nor a failure of will, nor a thing Arlen could mend by deciding to be stronger. A man cannot will a broken leg to knit faster by sheer resolve, and he cannot will this away either. Anyone who tells him to simply master himself is doing him harm."
I thought of Avren, who valued nothing so much as a man's command of himself, and I had a feeling our father shared his opinion.
Arlen must feel so alone.
"There must be something that can be done," I said.
"There is, but none of it is quick or certain. Prince Arlen must feel safe, that's why I suggested he convalesce in one of the remote provinces where nothing ever happens." He smiled sadly. "As well guarded as the palace is, it doesn't feel safe to him, and both of us can understand why. He needs a routine and the presence of people he trusts and is not ashamed in front of."
Given the healer's advice, our parents' decision to send Arlen to Tarina was making more and more sense, but that was weeks in the future, and in the meantime he was suffering. I could help him right now.
"What else?" I asked. "Beyond the change in scenery and the attention of people who care for him."
"Beyond that, he must be reintroduced to the things he now avoids. Slowly and carefully. The fear has to be faced in small, survivable doses, until the body learns the danger truly is over. It's also therapeutic to have him speak of what happened so his mind can process it and catalog it properly as a memory of something that happened and is over, instead of reliving it and living inside a nightmare." He spread his hands. "I offered to give him a draft to buy a night's sleep, but he refuses it. Besides, it's not a cure. The cure, such as it is, is safety and time and patient company and the slow facing of fear."
"How long?" I asked.
He spread his hands again. "I am a physician, not a magician. I cannot promise you a timeline, and recovery is not guaranteed. Some carry it to the end of their days. He might improve for a time and then relapse for no apparent reason, and it's important not to despair at those moments and think that nothing canbe done. With a lot of patience and perseverance, he might get better."
Safety. Routine. Trusted company. The slow, deliberate facing of fear in survivable pieces, until the body learns the threat has passed.
I had spent five months learning precisely that. It was what they had drilled into us for weeks until we were ready to face our fears on the Day of Volition. We had to be able to master terror, to breathe it down, to anchor ourselves in the present moment when every instinct screamed to get away as far as possible from the magnificent beasts who could incinerate us before we had a chance to blink. They taught us how to walk toward the dragons one controlled step at a time until our bodies stopped believing they would kill us. I thought of Kailin, who had to master her fear of heights to even sit behind a rider on the back of a dragon.
"Thank you," I said. "That was a lot of helpful advice. I'm ready to see my brother now." I stood.
Healer Lemil looked up at me with hope in his kind eyes. "I wish you luck, Prince Alar. You will need it. On top of everything else, Prince Arlen is stubborn and does not accept help easily."
"I know my brother. He will accept help from me."
31
KAILIN
I used to think loneliness was the absence of company, but I'm alone even when surrounded by friends and mentors. Loneliness is reaching for Alar at night and finding empty space. It's waking up in the room we shared together and expecting to see his jacket hanging on the back of the chair. It's going through my days with a hollowness in my chest. Nothing brings me joy, and my world feels off kilter.
—From the journal of Kailin Strom
