Chapter Six #3
“I came on strong,” the Prince countered, “and it was all about what I wanted, not about how you felt or what you might have been constrained to do given our relative positions. It was incredibly selfish of me. I’ve regretted it for years, especially since the only way I could apologize was if I got my sister to tell you I was sorry when you thought I was dead.
So, um, truly, I’m really sorry about all of it.
You shouldn’t have been put in a position where you needed to fend off a child prince who wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was an awful thing to have done.”
Cormal digested this, not having expected it at all, and it really threw him out of his own disastrous reflections on his past.
“I accept your apology, if that makes you feel any better. It was a bit awkward, but I promise that I haven’t been spending the last seven years scarred for life by you having grabby hands.”
The Prince half-laughed, half-groaned. “I’d just turned sixteen. I felt so adult. And I’m afraid I bought into the idea that I should get what I wanted for my birthday. It was really entitled and just… I apologize so much.”
Cormal looked at the other man, who was staring at the sand at their feet and didn’t seem willing to meet his eye.
“It really wasn’t that bad,” Cormal assured him.
“There was no way you were going to make me do anything I didn’t want to do.
Please don’t stress about that. And if I’m being perfectly honest, I was still a little wrapped up in…
someone else.” No guesses as to who, but Cormal still felt slightly better not saying it out loud.
“But you make it sound like you actually picked me specifically, and if that’s the case, then I’m rather flattered.
And I do apologize for not letting you down more gently. ”
And the Prince finally looked at him again, though he still looked embarrassed.
“Thank you. I’m not sure that gentle would have gotten through to me at that point, and you don’t have to apologize for doing what you needed to do to get me to back off. And it’s actually tremendously reassuring to hear that you had no idea of my terrible crush on you.”
Cormal froze. “What? Seriously?”
The Prince’s eyes widened, and he let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, wow. So you still hadn’t figured it out?” He cleared his throat. “So, no, never mind, it was just a random thought for my sixteenth birthday, and can we talk about something else now, please?”
Cormal stared at him. “Truly? Me?”
The Prince’s expression of embarrassment faded, and he nodded, swallowing, before he said, “Very much so. You were kind to me, and in moments like our time here, you didn’t treat me like the prince.
You treated me just like a person. I really liked that.
I looked up to you. A lot.” He cleared his throat.
“And I maybe thought that you and all your muscles were really hot.”
Cormal laughed, still a bit stunned, but a wonderful feeling of warmth filled him. “Oh, well, thank you. I am… not used to being a figure of admiration.”
As soon as he said it, he wished the words back. That was… far more revealing than he’d meant to be.
But the Prince was still gazing at him softly.
“Your father could be kind of scary,” he whispered.
A shiver whispered up Cormal’s back, and he tried not to think about the terrible truth he’d never told anyone.
“And Brannal was very appealing,” Cormal pointed out.
The Prince half-nodded, half-shrugged. “He’s handsome, certainly. Maybe it’s just that he was that little bit older? I never found him as appealing as I did you.”
No one, not since Cormal had met Brannal when he was ten, had said anything remotely like that to him. In fact, they’d said the exact opposite. Cormal had thought the exact opposite. He had been enamored of the other man.
He’d been so pleased when he’d also manifested fire, but it was impossible not to feel less than Brannal, who could control all the elements. Cormal’s father had started grooming him to take over practically from the moment he’d arrived.
Cormal had met Brannal before he’d manifested any elements of his own, when there’d still been potential, so his father hadn’t put so much pressure on him then. At the time, it had been so exciting to have someone so close in age to Cormal, someone who was willing to play with him.
Looking back, it was clear that his father hadn’t ever expected Cormal to be able to match Brannal for magical power.
He wasn’t sure that he’d actually expected Cormal to amount to anything.
Privately, he’d seemed to view Cormal’s power as adequate.
The fact that there were so few Mages who could control fire was something, and the fact that Cormal had followed in his father’s footsteps wasn’t to be completely ignored.
(But his father could control fire and air.
Cormal could only control one element, just like the vast majority of Mages.)
No, his father had decided early on that Brannal would be Summus after him, and that Cormal could be his Secundus.
He hadn’t quite encouraged either a rivalry or a friendship—or maybe it had been one of the few times that Cormal had been successfully stubborn.
He’d cared for Brannal, and he’d enjoyed collaborating with someone else who could control fire.
He’d always looked up to him. He’d been happy at the idea of serving as his Secundus—even as there had been part of him that had chafed at not being enough, that had seen the way his father was never quite as impressed with anything that Cormal did.
Brannal had made a much better Summus than Tramad had, though Cormal wasn’t sure that he’d ever actually said so. And it was hard to get past the legacy of a man who’d been Summus for thirty years—even the way it had ended.
Brannal had been Summus for almost seven years, and the entirety of the Mage Warrior community and everyone in the castle knew why that was.
“Why are you listening to me?” Cormal asked.
The Prince looked at him with an amused expression. “Because you’re talking to me?”
Cormal huffed a breath, turning to stare out at the water. “No, I mean—why listen to any of my explanations? Along with Perian and Brannal and your sister, you’re probably the person I hurt the most. So why are you listening to a word that comes out of my mouth?”
The Prince was silent for a moment, and then he said, “Because you need to be heard.”
Cormal sucked in a sharp breath and closed his eyes, concentrating on breathing for a moment so that he didn’t do anything embarrassing like cry. He could feel the tears prickling at the back of his eyes, and his breath wasn’t coming out entirely steady.
He’d wished so much to be heard for months. He’d given up on anyone really hearing him. It hadn’t even felt like Delana was listening, although she let him vent. But it had been like there was an impenetrable wall between him and everyone else, and the Prince had chosen to pierce it.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
The Prince said, “If I ask you something, will you hear me?”
Cormal sniffed, swallowed, nodded. It was the least he could do, wasn’t it?
“I’ll try.”
“I believe you, you know, that you genuinely thought Perian was a danger in that corridor.”
Stupid tears. He swiped at his cheeks. No one had believed him.
“I might even believe that you didn’t know where you were sending him.”
Cormal blew out another breath. “That was a terrible mistake. I panicked. He needed to be gone, and what I thought I needed to do conflicted with how much it would hurt Brannal—I needed a solution in a hurry. I knew Gribon didn’t care for Perian, so I thought he could help me.
I figured with Perian gone, Brannal would come to his senses, and then everything would work out. ”
“And you thought that Perian would just stay where you stashed him? That he would simply never come back? You do know how that looks, right?”
Cormal groaned. “I thought Perian would realize the game was up. Once the seduction wore off Brannal and the truth was known, Perian would stay away because what would be the point in coming back? There’d be nothing to gain anymore.”
The Prince sighed. “Oh, Cormal.”
He huffed out a breath that was definitely not a laugh. “Yeah. I was scared for the people I cared about, and I concentrated a whole lot of energy on keeping them safe… my way. Brannal told me I was making monsters. He wasn’t wrong, I guess.”
“So telling everyone about what Perian was? That was trying to keep Brannal safe no matter what he thought?”
“Yes!” Cormal exclaimed. He made a sound in his throat. “I know it sounds asinine, but Brannal wasn’t listening to reason—that became immediately apparent the way he reacted to Perian’s disappearance. I couldn’t just let a carnalion back in the castle and pretend everything was fine!”
He realized he’d raised his voice and was practically shouting.
He regulated his tone and confessed, “I didn’t know what else to do.
It wasn’t spite, or at least, I didn’t mean it to be.
There was a demon in the castle, and Summus thought that was fine.
I had to protect everyone.” He swallowed, and with difficulty, he added, “But I can’t deny that I also wanted Perian gone, before I ever knew what he was. So. Make of that what you will.”
The Prince was nodding, staring out to the water himself now, and they fell silent for a long moment. Then the Prince spoke.
“I think your feelings may have blinded you to some of the reality of the situation, but I will accept that you thought you were doing what was necessary at the time.” The Prince turned and shot him a look that pierced him.
“I don’t think you were doing what was right, and I don’t think even you believe that. ”
Cormal grimaced.
Face stern, Prince Kinan said, “It was a nasty trick, picking us off one by one so that you could get rid of him. Especially Brannal. I don’t think anyone has forgiven you for that.”
No, Cormal knew they hadn’t. It had strained things so badly between him and Onadal that Cormal had left practically every communication to be relayed by Molun or Delana.
They were supposed to be working closely together to protect the castle and the country, and they didn’t trust that any information Cormal gave them would be accurate.
“It was a mistake,” he admitted thickly. “I still thought everything would go back to normal if only we could get rid of Perian.”
“But you let him live. How close did it come, Cormal?”
He swallowed, his throat thick. “Very.”
More than once, standing watch over the comatose man, Cormal had considered a very final solution to this problem.
“And yet,” the Prince said, “he lives. Why?”
Cormal shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Don’t you? Or even amidst all of those reasons that you told yourself—that he was evil and a demon and someone that you couldn’t trust—did you actually see the truth?”
Cormal shook his head. “I don’t think you should give me so much credit. Maybe I just knew what would happen if I killed him.”
“Did you? Because I can’t imagine that driving Brannal off was what you wanted.”
Cormal scoffed, and his voice was bitter, “Why not? Everyone else thinks so.”
“Because you love him,” the Prince said simply.
Cormal’s breath caught again, and the tears spilled out this time, coursing down his cheeks.