Arthur stares as if seeing Bernard for the first time. He remembers walking into the inn at Lanwatch and seeing Bernard and Shae facing off. He remembers the way Bernard laughed and explained everything away, but Shae never stopped glaring. Of course he didn’t. Shae was in danger, and instead of defending him, Arthur invited the threat to their table.
No wonder Shae left to find a new set of bodyguards. Shae hired Arthur to protect him—worse, Shae trusted him—and Arthur let him down.
“Shae’s a good man,” Arthur says, staring Bernard in the eyes. “A better man than me.”
“Radiance.” Bernard prods his nose and winces. “I won’t tell Tanner about this, because of our abidingfriendship, but you need to get your head on straight.”
“Go ahead and tell her,” Arthur says, far more calmly than he feels. “And if I hear another insult about Shae, I’ll punch you again.”
Freya rushes over. “What are you idiots doing?” She pulls Bernard’s hand away from his nose. “Arthur, what’s—”
Arthur ignores them both and stalks towards the barn. Bernard can tell Freya his side of the story. Arthur cares less and less what his friends think of him with every passing second.
The barn door is closed. Karis leans next to it, arms crossed, watching Arthur with interest. “You’re a lot more fun than I expected,” he says when Arthur stops at the door.
Arthur turns towards him. The boy looks so young. Did Arthur look like this when he first joined? Young and excited and eager to learn swords and magic and following orders? He wanted to be a paladin of Vara since he was old enough to ask his father who the people with the sunny coats were. But the sun on his tunic wasn’t the reason he joined. The magic, the uniform, the hierarchy, the law, even the friends, they were all a means to an end.
“Why did you join the order, Karis?” he asks.
“The same as everyone,” Karis says loftily. “To serve the Radiant and defend the helpless.”
“That’s what I wanted too.” Arthur squints up at the rising sun through the trees. “But I can’t do that here.”
After a moment, Karis prompts, “Sir?”
Arthur ignores him too, and pushes the door open.
The barn is brightly lit, with the outer stall doors all open to let the animals outside for the day. The stench is overpowering for the first few breaths, and then everything falls away when he sees Captain Tanner, Stazie, and Harry standing over a bound, kneeling figure.
“Captain,” Arthur says from the open door.
She whips around and frowns. “You can talk to him in a minute. Wait outside.”
Her movement gives Arthur his first clear view of Ronan in nearly a year.
Even bound and kneeling, covered in grime, Ronan is handsome. His bronze skin gleams in the torchlight, and the chains around his arms only emphasize their heft. There’s a streak of blood drying on his high cheekbone. He looks relaxed despite the circumstances. When he sees Arthur, his lip twitches, but he says nothing and quickly returns to his impassive mask. There’s no trace of the smile Arthur fell in love with.
“Hello, Arthur,” Ronan says, coolly.
Arthur realizes he has nothing to say in return.
All this ruminating, all this wondering why, doesn’t matter anymore. No explanation Ronan gives can change what he’s done to Arthur. It won’t make Arthur feel better. It won’t bring the Crown of Vara back. It won’t bring the priest he killed back.
There’s nothing Ronan can say that Arthur wants to stand here and listen to, when he should be fulfilling the truth purpose of his oath. Sharing light. Helping people. His faith is deeper than orders and ranks and politics. Right now, he needs to help a lonely, prickly necromancer. Any of his brothers and sisters can do what’s needed in the order. They can escort Ronan back to the Bright Cathedral and put him to trial without Arthur, easily. But only Arthur can help Shae, because he’s the only one who wants to.
He thinks Vara will understand.
“I’m not here to talk to him, sir,” Arthur says, facing Tanner squarely. “I wanted to tell you I’m leaving. My penance isn’t over, and you don’t need me here. You have him.” He gestures at Ronan.
“Now’s not the time,” she says. “Wait outside, and we’ll talk about this when I’m done in here.”
“No,” Arthur says. He hears a whistle from Stazie, and rustling as the others shift, but keeps his gaze firmly on the captain he’s disobeying for the first time in his life.
Tanner crosses her arms. “Don’t worry about the trial. I’ll find you another task that looks good for it. Unless I change my mind because you’re being insubordinate.”
Before, the stern tone in her voice would have snapped him to attention. Now, he doesn’t care. Redemption isn’t about appearances. “I’m not worried about the trial,” he says. “I have something more important to take care of.”
He turns around. Not all of his long-engrained reflexes are gone yet; he still stops near the door when Tanner barks, “Davorin!”
