Page 23 of The Truth

“In pain.” More footsteps sounded, and Eltoar appeared at Alvira’s left. “We need to talk, Alvira.”

Alvira let out a soft sigh, once more dipping her cloth and scrubbing. She wanted to talk, wanted to sit for hours and pour out her heart, pour out the pain that scratched at her insides. But the world wasn’t that simple. Nothing was.

“We do,” she said, scrubbing away at nothing. “Were you going to say anything?”

A short silence followed in which Eltoar stared into nothingness while Alvira scrubbed, and Vyldrar watched them both.

“You are my First Sword,” Alvira said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “You are meant to be the one I can look to always.”

“I am… I am right here, right now.”

“And what of Helios?”

“He did what his heart demanded.”

“He openly defied my word. Before the eyes of twenty-five Draleid and their soulkin.”

“Your word?” Eltoar turned to face her. “Do you not mean the word of the council?”

“It’s the same damn thing, Eltoar!” Alvira threw the cloth in the bucket, knocking it over, the soapy water spilling into the dirt. “Do you not see that? I gave the command, and so it was me he defied, my words, my voice. Do you think this is easy?”

Alvira shook her head, her sigh misting in the air before her. Vyldrar flared his nostrils, rage simmering his blood, but Alvira refused to let his fury in. “I am ever in a delicate dance along a rope stretched between two peaks. It is my task to both lead the Draleid and to find balance with the council and The Order. There must be both give and take. You stand there, and you judge my words, but you never see the weight upon my shoulders. To be Archon is not simply to do whatever I wish. Though it cuts me, though it bleeds me, to hold back was the right choice. To the eyes of others, Helios’s defiance of my word is your defiance. Surely you see that?”

Eltoar ran his hands through his snow-white hair, turning to look out into the night. He gave a low, resigned laugh. “It was you I listened to at Vastillion all those years ago. Your words, your choices. And if I remember correctly, it was your will to defy Thalumas, your Archon. Strange, how to do the same thing now is beyond belief.”

“I have grown since that day. I have learned. And this was not the same, Eltoar.”

“Was it not? What were your words, Alvira? ‘I will not stand by and watch these people die as though I were a statue doomed to witness and not act’. Tell me, what is the difference when you ask us to stand on this hill and watch tens of thousands burn, watch dragons be eaten alive. Tell me where I am to draw the fucking line because I cannot see it.”

“This is a war, Eltoar. An invasion. We must make hard choices to win the war, choices that do not abide by our hearts’ desires in a single moment. And I must make that choice, I must play the villain. Me. Not you.” Alvira pointed across the camp to where the other dragons rested, their Draleid sitting about a campfire. “I must take the weight of that choice so that they do not have to!”

“How brave of you. How godsfucking brave of you.”

“What is this, Eltoar? Why do you speak to me so, why do you act as though you are better? That if you were Archon, everything would not be as it is.”

“It wouldn’t,” he snapped.

“There it is… there it is…”

In the same heartbeat as the words left Alvira’s mouth, she saw Eltoar’s heart sink. “Alvira, I didn’t… I didn’t mean⁠—”

“You did. Don’t cower from your words, own them.” Alvira dropped to her haunches and picked up the bucket she’d knocked over, feeling a strange sense of calm within her. To hear him say the words aloud was like a wave breaking over her.

She rose, running hands down her face, pressing her fingertips into the creases of her eyes. Alvira turned to face Eltoar and held his gaze. “You are the greatest soul I have ever known. As long as I have been a Draleid, all I’ve ever wanted is your respect. Can you see that? All I’ve ever wanted is to stand at your side. I did not ask you to lie to the council after Vastillion. Never. I did not and I would not ever ask that of you. You did it of your own volition – took the choice from me. And yet, since that day I have felt it beneath your skin. Felt it pricking at me like a thorn on a rose.”

“That’s not true.”

Alvira shook her head. “Now I speak, and you listen. It is true. I pushed to aid Vastillion. Me. And you took the blame. I never asked it of you, but you did it. And then you punished me for it. I am sorry that you were not raised as Archon. And I am sorry that I was. Not because I do not want it, but because of what I see it do to you. What it does to us. But I can be that line between the council and the Draleid. I can swallow my pride for the greater good. Can you say the same? What do you think would have happened here today if I had thrown the council’s order to the wind? If I had led the Draleid to Arathín en masse?”

“It’s not as simple as that, Alvira.”

“It’s precisely that simple. The choices may not be, but the consequences are. We would be burying our brothers and sisters, or we would lie with them, the Veyak feasting on our bodies. And then? In months, the Karvosi would advance as far as Ilnaen with precious few Draleid left to stop them. But ignore that for a moment… Outward rejection of the council would have started a war within our own ranks. To see the Archon openly stand against the council’s word on a matter such as this? Do you know how swiftly they would react? The council control the stories that spread. We would be branded traitors before the sun had risen. And I would have sent our best to dine in Achyron’s halls.” She rested a hand on Vyldrar and stared up at the stars. “It is easy to judge another’s choice when you do not bear the weight of it.”

Alvira stared at the ground, shaking her head. “Helios was right not to leave his kin to die slowly. But you should have said it to me, should have spoken the words. I would have listened.” She lifted her gaze to meet Eltoar’s. “I cherish your counsel, Eltoar, even if I cannot always follow it.”

A wolf howled in the distance, answered by birds preaching their night song.

Eltoar closed the distance between them and rested a hand gently on her shoulder. “Alvira Serris, I ask your forgiveness.” Eltoar paused a moment, drawing a short breath. “For lying to you and for lying to myself. These past years, I have stood by your side as strongly as I could. I have been your sword, and I have been proud to be so. But you are right. Resentment has dwelled within me. I cannot change my heart in an instant, but I will work on it.” He squeezed her shoulder gently and turned her to face him. “But I need you to know something.”