Page 49 of Severe Husband Warning

“They are dying.” My voice cracks before I finish the sentence. “That should be the only proof that matters.”

Rothgar closes his eyes for the space of a single breath.

When he looks at me again, grief lingers there alongside the impossible weight of responsibility, and for one fragile moment I think he might finally tell me to gather my cloak because we’re leaving together.

“What good is your power,” I ask, “if you will not use it to save them?”

He doesn’t answer.

I search his face for some sign that he might change his mind, but the quiet resolve in his expression never wavers. The silence he leaves between us carries more certainty than any words could have.

I understand then that nothing I say will persuade him to move before he believes the time is right.

Disappointment washes over me, filling spaces I hadn’t realized hope had claimed. I never expected mercy from Malakor. Somehow, I’d believed I would find it here.

I lower my gaze before he can see the tears beginning to gather and turn toward the door. The corridor beyond has never seemed so quiet.

I leave his study feeling more alone than I ever have.

24

ROTHGAR

Iwatch her leave without calling her back.

The door closes softly behind her, yet the sound lingers through my study long after her footsteps have faded beyond the corridor. The silence she leaves behind, fills the room more completely than any raised voice could have managed.

My plans remain spread across the strategy table exactly where we left them, their edges held flat beneath brass weights and sealed reports, but I find myself staring at them without seeing a single line.

Calla came here asking me to save her people. She leaves convinced I have chosen caution over them, and although I know why I made the decision I did, that knowledge offers little comfort.

The thought follows me as relentlessly as the storm pressing against the windows. Every argument I offered her remains sound. Acting now would hand Malakor exactly what he requires—a reckless assault upon a noble house without evidence capable of surviving the scrutiny of the King’s court. One misstep would fracture the alliances holding the spires together and give every ambitious lord reason to question the Crown’s authority.

Knowing that does little to quiet the memory of her voice.

What good is your power if you will not use it to save them?

The question lingers because I have asked it of myself more than once over the course of my life.

Power has never been measured by how quickly it can be wielded. A ruler who answers every injustice with force soon becomes another tyrant, yet caution carried beyond its proper place leaves innocent people to suffer while justice waits upon procedure. Every lord eventually discovers the narrow ground between those failures. It is now my turn to walk it.

I have delayed long enough.

I reach outward with my thoughts on a current of stormlight until I find the familiar presence of Captain Dresk, one of my most trusted guards.

Captain Dresk.

His response brushes against my mind without delay, disciplined as ever.

My lord.

Report to my study.

At once.

Barely a minute passes before the doors open once more.

The captain enters without hesitation, his dark armor still carrying the faint scent of rain from the outer walls. He bows once before lifting his head.