Chapter 29
twenty-nine
RATHYN
The tribunal is an ancient site, one that has been used for generations. It is a frigid place, the walls bright white, the floors nothing but the milyn stone mined from the singing mountains. It is cold beneath my feet, uncomfortably so, but I show no one how I’m feeling.
I already feel too much.
It is dangerous, what Everest has unleashed inside of me.
I stop in front of a wide door, ancient Eretharian proverbs carved into the ancient stone. They’re a warning, a promise, to those who enter.
You may not come out the same.
A guard stands before it and dips his chin in deference.
This may be the last time I receive such a greeting. There is a chance my bond with my human—with my Everest—will cost me everything. It is a price I’m willing to pay, but I can’t help but heed Eissa’s warning.
Long ago, Eissa grew too close to his human, and they took him away. He was terminated, and Eissa was left to live alone.
I cannot let that happen with Everest. I will not.
I hear a hum, and then a dull bell ringing in the distance, and the guard moves, opening the door with a grunt.
It scrapes along the floor, and before me, I see the panel of judges awaiting to hand down my fate.
I step toward them. Eissa, Jyrion, Izar, and the high warlord, Zynth.
I meet their stares but make no outward expression. This is not the Vyastil way. So different from the humans, especially Everest, who wears everything on his face.
I always know exactly what he is feeling, except when he is trying to hide from me.
And I do not like when he does that.
I see the pedestal before me, and I step onto it. The back snaps closed, and I know that I’m trapped, forced to face my fate.
I conjure up Everest in my mind for courage and then meet everyone’s stare.
“Rathyn of the Dark Vale, do you know why you’re here?” The high warlord asks, his low voice ringing around the room.
I think about what Everest would say to this, a rude retort, and I hold back my smile. “I do.”
“You have broken the boundary lines of our world. You have allowed a human unaccompanied into the Outerlands, threatening the no-harm treaty we have with the humans.”
I say nothing. The treaty, as Everest would say, is bullshit. It is for show. Many humans have been taken against their will. For eons, long before the Vyastil had control of portal technology, our world has been visiting theirs.
But there are needs, and the humans possess what we can no longer live without if we want to remain ourselves.
We cannot take it by force. Their weapons are primitive but dangerous, and it is far more likely they would wipe themselves and us out and consider it a worthy sacrifice in the name of freedom.
So, we have resorted to deception.
“You conspired with an Outerlanding to bring your human into this world, did you not?”
I tilt my chin down in a nod. I refuse to say I did this when I did not. I didn’t call for Everest, but he was able to enter my mind and do so anyway.
“Rathyn,” Eissa says, soft but his tone a warning.
I take a breath and meet each one of their gazes.
I cannot let Cielo take the blame for what Everest did.
“The human acted of his own accord, believing I was in danger. As you know, they can be headstrong and difficult to tame. As per the contract I have signed with him, he was given knowledge of our world with the agreement that it would not be shared with other humans. He did not break that agreement. Instead, he manipulated Cielo of the Outerlands into letting him through the portal.”
“Are you saying your human should stand in judgment with you?” Prince Jyrion says with a small smirk. “I can attest to the human’s defiance. He met my gaze and spoke freely.”
“In this, I take responsibility,” I tell them. “I did not do my duty to properly educate and train my human. But there was no malice or ill will. I will bear whatever punishment you see fit.”
“I know a very fitting punishment,” Prince Jyrion says, and then his lips curl up. “I will buy his contract.”
Rage floods through me with a ferocity I cannot explain. My vision feels hazy and red, but before I can speak another word, Eissa holds up a hand.
“That is not how things are done.” He gives me a flat look. “It seems your human was acting out of loyalty to your contract, and that is not meant to be punished. The crime, it seems, is a lack of training. That of which I believe you are guilty. Any opposed?”
Prince Jyrion, as I expect, lifts his hand. His brother, the warlord, and Eissa do not join him.
My breath leaves me for a moment. I am guilty, but not for such an egregious crime as conspiracy. And Everest is not being blamed.
Eissa resumes his seat. “Rathyn of the Dark Vale, you are found guilty of faulty training of your human by the majority of the tribunal. Your sentence will be as follows.” He pauses for a long beat.
“Your human must be brought under strict control. Failure to do so will mean failure in your duty. That will result in losing your command, your property, and your title.”
Prince Jyrion smirks. “You will return to show us exactly how…obedient your human is.”
I stare at them, something odd pulsing through me.
Anger. Rage. Offense.
It was the same feeling I saw on Everest’s face when I called him a tool, and now I understand why he was so furious with me, why he could not stand the sight of me.
He is so much more than an obedient pet, and I cannot ask him to live that way.
Eissa meets my stare, and he adds, “Are you willing to prove your companion’s worth?” There’s something in his tone. I can’t tell what he’s trying to say to me.
Jyrion continues to smile at me as though he knows my struggle, but I don’t give him any acknowledgement.
“If I decide to dissolve the contract?”
Eissa nods. “That is acceptable as well. We cannot risk a man of your status allowing your human to breach this world again.”
Zynth rings the bell beside him, and it rattles my teeth.
“You have one day to make your choice. We await your answer.”
Before I can reach the portal, I am drawn into a room by a familiar hand. Eissa’s eyes are wide.
“You do know the risk if you choose to keep him, Rathyn. Do you not?”
He is the cautionary tale, so I nod.
“The pain of losing what you have is greater than never having it at all, but if you let him go, at least you will know he is safe.”
Bowing my head, I take a breath. I do not want to ask Everest to prostrate himself before me and the tribunal. I do not wish him to pay deference to the princes. I do not wish his beautiful mouth to ever be silenced.
“I will speak to him.”
Eissa grabs my wrist. “I understand it is love.”
“Love?” The way he says it—the human word—is foreign to my tongue. “I do not understand.”
“Yes, you do. The Vyastil have been running from love for eons. They see it as a weakness. A tender place to strike. But we are not meant for that. You hear him, yes?” He taps my temple, and I flinch back.
“How—”
“Because I heard mine. His heart, his mind, his tongue. I loved him, Rathyn, and I was not brave enough to save him.”
I swallow heavily. “He will not go quietly.”
Eissa laughs softly and shakes his head as he releases me. “No. I suppose not. But I cannot guarantee that Prince Jyrion will leave him alone if you keep him.”
“And can you guarantee he won’t try to take him if I don’t?”
Eissa’s ears flicker. “I cannot.”
So, the choice is not so simple. I must keep Everest away from the prince. And in this moment, the only way I can think is to cut him free and send him far away.
But why does it feel as if I’m cutting off a part of myself as I consider it?
I do not know.
Perhaps it is love after all.