9. Never enough
For a week, the pile of books that Phineas left for him continued to grow daily. Each book added to Killian’s guilt over ignoring and avoiding his friend. Each one also served as a reminder that Phineas didn’t think Killian was ready to lead Norwood. By the second week, the books had stopped coming. Excuses filled his mind, but Killian knew Phineas wasn’t being petty. Killian was embarrassed that he might be.
His days were spent with Raela in the morning, Lady Zalina at teatime, and afternoon meetings between nobles, the head chef, the tailor, and the head butler—all of them bombarding him with questions about his quickly approaching wedding.
He tried and often failed to focus on his kingdom’s issues. The Isle negotiations were going well, but crops of Norwood were still struggling this harvest, worsened by a recent hot wind from the west that resulted in even lower than usual rainfall. Thankfully, the ships in the north were finishing their final trades without delay. The harbors should be ready to close safely before the harsh winter season. Just last week, Killian had instructed the messenger to gather seven of the best soldiers to go prepare the docks and secure the ships.
His father, of course, still ran the meetings, refusing to let him lead, but Killian idly threw in ideas, even if he’d left his heart behind the gate. His suggestions garnered nods from the other advisors. Unfortunately, there was no sign of affirmation from his father.
His mind drifted toward the forest. Raela was learning Common at an impressive pace, rapidly applying all he taught her. This morning he had brought a book of words and his favorite children’s books so she could keep practicing. Her wide eyes and bouncing heels were enough to express her delight, but his skin still tingled from her sudden hug hours later.
If his father didn’t think him an adequate prince, at least he was a good teacher.
Once the final meeting of the day adjourned, Killian grabbed his papers and skirted around his father’s chair to go study more of Raela’s language. As he passed, the king held up his hand to stop him.
“Killian, hold for a moment.”
The room emptied quickly as Killian slowly spun on his heel, his throat tight. “Yes, Father?”
The king signed another document and passed it to the servant with a tilt of his head. The man bowed and skittered out of the room. With a sigh, the king stroked his beard and turned toward his son. “As you know, the harvest is coming to an end. And it has been eighteen years since your betrothal was first signed into being.”
Killian’s heart sank, and he shifted his hands behind his back. “I’m aware.”
“The king and queen of Walworth are coming in two weeks’ time. For the wedding.”
Killian blinked. “Has the princess returned then?” Killian stepped forward, his brow furrowed and his skin icy. “The king and queen have brought her back from hiding?”
The king pushed his pen to the top of a paper, squaring it off. Seconds passed. “No.”
Killian started to speak, but hesitated. “So … are we to go through the ceremony without the bride?” Killian couldn’t stop the scoff. “Am I to marry the paper the treaty is written on? Perhaps the feather pen. The desk? How can I be betrothed, much less married, without a princess in the flesh?”
Glaring up through silver, wiry brows, the king pointed at him. “Don’t be rude. It doesn’t become a prince. She will be here. They said she would.”
“How can you say that?” Killian tossed his papers onto the table. “Eighteen years, she’s been gone. Not hours. Years! How can you trust that they haven’t lost her?”
The king stood, his movement slow and dangerous. His chair whined as his legs pushed it backward. “Jonat of Walworth is my oldest friend. We were almost raised together, we fought together, and he is the most trustworthy human on this continent. Do you think me so great a fool that I would offer our land to a monarch I didn’t trust? That I would hand over the wealth of two countries to our children if I didn’t have absolute confidence in his character? In our friendship? In our treaty? They loved your mother as well, lest you forget. It was her idea in the first place, and I will keep my promise to her!”
“You don’t think I’m ready to lead a meeting, not to mention inherit your throne or manage two kingdoms. You’ll probably rule the united kingdoms, and I’ll just be your puppet.”
“Of course you’re not ready!”
Killian rolled his head on his shoulders to dispel the surge of anger. “Of course? Do you not hear what I contribute to these meetings? Do you not see how the advisors respond to my recommendations? Do you not see how much I prepare?”
“What I see is a boy who is happy when the sun is out. But when things get hard, when you face a struggle, you quit.”
“I do not—”
“You have quit your whole life, son. After debating with Lord Godfrey this spring, you developed an illness on the day of the vote. When L’Hovat wanted to fight the trade agreements in the treaty, where were you? You were suddenly absent from the meetings.”
“I had to go to the northern outpost to fix an internal disruption.”
“You left to hide behind Lady Zalina.”
“Father!” Killian threw his hands in the air. “I was addressing the docking issues in the north and helping solve disagreements over trade!”
“I’m not blind, nor am I an idiot!” The king seethed. “Being a king is about endurance, patience, and wisdom. This is a job where you must fight for every victory, and never give up in the face of loss. You must never run. Never skirt the issues. You must fight. But you, you quit.” The king thumped his finger onto the table with each word. “You’re not ready.”
Killian reeled, Phineas’s own doubtful words ringing again. “Maybe you’re just afraid I’ll be a better king than you.”
“I hope you’ll be better than me. But you’re not yet ready.”
Ripping his papers off the table, Killian whirled and paced to the door. “I don’t quit. It’s not true. And you know it.”
His father called after him. “If you don’t quit when things are hard, then where, may I ask, is Lord Phineas?”
Killian halted for a moment before continuing on his way. “Goodbye, Father.” He pulled the door shut.
He stormed to his room, as the servants scurried out of his way. He didn’t quit. How else could he have become the best fighter among his men? Well, except for Phineas. How else could he have come up with solutions to so many of the recent disputes? And though Killian had to admit he’d pulled back at the meetings recently, that was his father’s fault.
Once back in his room, he furiously scratched out a plan that he hoped would appease the metalworkers to submit to Lord Farsha. Then, he grabbed his notebook and headed toward the gate. Perhaps his anger would help him learn her language faster. At least Raela didn’t think him a failure.
“You look like a bear bit by bee.” Raela said with a laugh. She put out her hands, like claws, and made a furious expression. “So angry. What makes so you angry?”
Killian and Raela sat on a blanket in the meadow, the birds just now waking as the sun started its slow ascent. He automatically responded, “‘You look like a bear stung’—bees sting, not bite. And it should be, ‘Why are you so angry?’” Raela nodded thoughtfully as she jotted his corrections down.
“Good. Now why are you so angry?” she asked. Her head tilted to the side like a bird, her long blonde hair almost silver in the early light. Her hand moved reflexively to pet the scruff around Jax’s neck. Jax nestled in closer to her. Killian might have been jealous if he wasn’t so distracted by his father. And by Phineas.
“People, men, do not think I am a good leader.” When she frowned, he expanded, searching for an easy explanation. “Good teacher, good boss, uh … good …”
Alpha, father.Jax offered, his mind speaking into both of theirs, accompanied by images.
“A front goose?” Raela said, her hands making a V shape. “Front goose moves many.”
“Sure, just like that. A leader guides his people.”
Glancing down, Raela studied the words again before looking around the meadow. “Where is the big man? Isn’t he one of your people?”
Killian rolled his shoulder. “Phineas is my friend. He is one of the people who thinks I am not a good front goose. Not a good leader.”
“Does Phineas … see right? Are you not a good leader?”
Killian lay down in the grass with a huff. “I think I’m a good one. But Phin and my father do not. I know I’m not perfect, but I try. All I’ve ever done was try, and it was never enough.”
Raela stared at him for a long time. Each passing moment made him feel more exposed. She inhaled slowly. “Does Phineas make you sad?”
He clenched his jaw, debating how to answer. He chose honesty. “Yes.”
She glanced back down at her book. “If Phineas is a friend, why you not shillet, um, let go of sadness? If he or you made a mistake, say sorry and say shillet together?”
I think she means forgive. The image is of a bound and shackled person set free.
Killian glanced up at her, the conviction in his heart clenching his chest painfully. Looking at Jax who was staring back at him with a raised brow, he sighed again, but crossed his arms. He wasn’t ready. “Forgive him.”
Raela nodded, looking pleased with herself, as if they were in agreement. But his heart ached. “My father will never forgive me. I think that’s why he hates me so much.”
She frowned, then reached for his hand. “Something happened in the past?”
Killian clenched his jaw, clicking his back teeth together, debating whether or not she would blame him. But her gaze displayed curious empathy, and he felt burdened. He glanced at Jax. “Jax would you show her as I speak?” The wolf had been there beside him through it all. When the wolf nodded, Killian cleared his throat.
“My mother’s death is my fault. When I was seven, I ran to a lake north of the castle and was playing in the water. A glint of light on the shore caught my eye, and I came back to find a jewel-covered dagger. Jax howled at me to stop, but he was too late, I had already grasped the handle.” He exhaled a huge breath. “My hand immediately started turning black, and a curse curled up my arm, heading toward my heart.”
Jax’s images overwhelmed Killian as they reflected the story in his mind. Jax throwing Killian across his furry back, the cursed arm held in Jax’s maw as he raced back to the castle. “A foreign magician was visiting from Walworth, and he tried to extract the curse. I saw something like ink or oil hovering between us as he tried to transfer it into a glass container. But for some reason, he lost control of it. It rushed back toward my chest, but my mother threw herself over me, and it struck her instead.” He could still see his mother’s face as horror and love intermingled. Jax showed her sad smile as she patted Killian’s cheek.
“She whispered, ‘I will always be with you.’ And then she … she died.” Killian could hardly push air, much less any additional words past the lump in his throat. He blinked back the stinging tears. Raela squeezed his hand, and he saw tears streaking down her face.
“My father blames me for her death. And …” Killian wiped his brow. “He’s not wrong. If I hadn’t gone to the lake, or if I had listened to Jax and not touched it.” He swallowed. “If I had pushed her out of the way, found a way to take back the curse. Then he wouldn’t have lost her.”
She placed two hands on either side of Killian’s face, her thumbs brushing his cheeks. “He is wrong, Killian. Father is wrong. You were little. She took care of you. She was guardian of you. She klatmam—”
Protected.
“She protected you. That is life and care … that is … waname.”
Love?Jax asked Raela.
She glanced at Jax, then back at Killian. Jax flooded their minds with mother birds feeding their babies, fathers hugging their children, grandmothers wrapping a scrapped knee, and two sisters embracing. Raela nodded and whispered as her eyes locked with his. “Love. She loves you.”
Killian’s skin burned hot under her touch, the tingles from her gaze piercing through to his soul. Grief bubbled fresh, but her words were a balm.
She continued, “I know only a little, but I think you need to shillet, to forgive you also. Be free again.” She drew herself toward him and wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms clenched around her waist. Her hair was soft on his face and scented like mint and sage. Like his mother had smelled. Maybe all wonderful women smelled this way. Her grip was fierce and unyielding. Restoring.
He took several deep breaths, releasing the agony with each exhale. Slowly she pulled back and sat beside him again, picking at the clovers. “Maybe I also need to listen,” she began.
“When I was little, I went walking beyond the borders my aunties made for me. Got lost in the river valley. Mother Bear and Aunties looked for me. In my fear, I used magic to send water and light into the sky, and Auntie Momo and Auntie Toru find me, but …” Killian watched her lip tremble. “When we walk home, Auntie Shou was not there. She is still lost because I walk too far.”
Killian grasped her hand and with the other drew her chin up with the edge of his finger. “Perhaps we both need to forgive ourselves. Shillet.”
She nodded. “When we are given shillet, we must give it to others also, Killian.”
Killian knew exactly what she was getting at. Perhaps she was right. He would think about forgiving Phineas, of course. Maybe his father. Maybe even himself.
“We all make mistakes. We keep … keep …” Her brow furrowed, and Killian clenched his fist to restrain himself from brushing the line with his thumb.
“Keep trying?” he asked.
“Keep living. Cannot be in the past. The flowers cannot grow backward. The rivers do not flow uphill. The water does not stay in place. So we also cannot. Life moves forward.”
His gaze drifted north toward the castle and his duty and his treaty and his father. How long had he been trying? How long had he been ignored? Her voice drew his attention back.
“Think long, Killian. The seasons are too short to stay stuck in the mud of spring.” The sun was now hot on their backs. “I need to go to my aunties now. Carry water, make morning food.”
“Breakfast.”
“Make breakfast.” She beamed at him, and in a moment, she grabbed his hand and squeezed it. “I am happy you are in our forest with me, Killian.”
A warm rush flooded his chest as electricity tingled through his fingertips where she touched him. He huffed a laugh. “I am happy, too, Raela. Very happy.”
She squeezed his hand again before running off to the southern edge of the meadow, turning once with a wave just before she ducked into the brush. Killian felt a sharp pain at her notable absence. She never made him feel foolish. Never disregarded him. His heart warmed, even as it ached after her company.
Even if her advice cut him to the marrow.
He turned to leave and found himself face-to-face with the massive wolf who was pinning him with a sharp look of reproof. His pupils narrowed, and his nose twitched side to side. Killian, be careful. Your betrothal.
Killian waved him off and stepped around him. “Jax, you don’t understand marriage or betrothals.”
I do understand promises. Your family promised. Promises matter.
“Don’t worry your little canine head. I’m just teaching her our language. Making international friendships.”
Jax huffed in what sounded like a scoff. And I’m just here for the scratches.
“You do love the scratches, though.” Killian shot one last glance toward the place she had disappeared as he pushed himself up and headed home.
Jax paced beside him. They are quite nice. But I didn’t make any promises.
Rolling his eyes, Killian dismissed Jax’s worries from his mind. So far, they had developed a lovely, honest friendship, without the weight of royalty. This was all he was after. Who else besides Phineas and Jax could Killian count as true friends? He could use one more. Jax was worrying for nothing. Killian stifled the memory of her hand in his, the squeeze of her hug, and the feel of her waist under his palm. He struggled to stifle the hot-red coal that was starting to burn in his chest.
Maybe he was in trouble after all.