Chapter Thirteen
Cormal
While part of Cormal wanted to find more people to try to apologize to, he went to read more of the books on magic instead.
It was essential they did this, and it didn’t look good if Cormal wasn’t there.
He might be trying to wrangle his own life, but he still wanted to help Kinan in any way that he could.
The next book could be the one that had a solution.
He sighed.
“What was that for?” Prince Kinan asked quietly. “Is the book that boring?”
Cormal shook his head. “I mean, yes, it’s absolutely that boring, but I was thinking about other things. Could I talk to you for a few minutes before dinner?”
The Princess shot Cormal a glare at the same time that Kinan’s lips quirked up, and he said, “You can have as much time as you want, since I never have to worry about missing dinner.”
Cormal’s lips flattened. Kinan could only stare at the rest of them eating if he attended because he couldn’t touch anything. He couldn’t taste anything. Yet one more way that his life was terrible.
The Prince frowned. “Hey, it’s all right. I’d be happy to talk to you. It was a joke.”
Cormal managed a nod, forcing a smile so that some of the worry left Kinan’s eyes.
The Princess shot him one more poisonous look before she went back to her book.
This was the one room where she didn’t run away from Cormal, but Cormal knew better than to even try to talk to her here.
He didn’t want to do anything that would make the Princess feel that she couldn’t be here, trying to help Kinan.
Plus, this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of a large chunk of Mage Warriors.
Cormal made himself concentrate so that he was actually taking the words in. If he missed something that could help Kinan, he’d never forgive himself.
Unrelated to his apology, he’d written to Nisal after he’d gotten over his irritation from the Head Librarian’s letter.
The Great Library was bigger by far than the one they had here in the castle.
Had they really gone through the whole thing so quickly?
It was true they weren’t doing the other training that the Mage Warriors did, and they weren’t interrupted by having to go out on actual demon hunts, but…
had they definitely looked through everything?
Did the issue not seem pressing because they couldn’t see the Prince and his predicament?
But Nisal was there, and Cormal was sure they would be championing Kinan’s cause.
No, there was a terrible chance that the reason they hadn’t found anything was because there was nothing to find.
Cormal felt like he was missing something, but he wasn’t sure if he felt that way because there was actually something missing or if it was just that he wanted something to be missing.
He certainly wasn’t ready to concede that a solution wasn’t there to be found, and he genuinely meant it when he’d told Kinan that he’d be happy to serve him whether he had a physical form or not.
But he wanted the other man to have a physical form again for himself. As in so many things, unfortunately, Cormal wishing desperately for a solution wasn’t enough to make one appear. Not yet, anyway. He would keep wishing, and he would read every single one of these books himself, if he had to.
Finally, the dinner hour arrived, and the Mage Warriors marked their spots and left with a collective relief that he couldn’t actually blame them for—but he did wish they didn’t seem quite so anxious to stop doing something that might help Kinan.
The Princess glared at Cormal again when the Prince remained behind, and Cormal looked between them. Should he try to talk to her now after all?
“It’s all right, Renny,” Kinan told her, not seeming at all concerned. “Go ahead.”
If the Princess could throw fireballs, Cormal was pretty sure she would have figured out a way to make them work on him, and he would have been fried to a crisp long ago.
She came close to stomping out, and Kinan gazed after her affectionately before he transferred his gaze back to Cormal. The expression stayed… remarkably fond.
Cormal swallowed.
“What’s up?” Kinan asked.
“I was hoping you could convince your sister to listen to me when I try to apologize.”
Kinan winced slightly.
Cormal nodded. “No, I know it’s not likely to work, but I can’t not try.
I hurt her the most.” A thought struck him, and he made a face, hastening to add, “If you don’t feel that you can do it as her brother, please say so.
I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m asking you to do something you shouldn’t! Truly, I—”
But Kinan reached out and put a hand on—well, near—Cormal’s arm.
“No, it’s not that. I don’t mind asking. But I… don’t think you’re going to get the results you’re hoping for, and I don’t want it to hurt you.”
Cormal swallowed again, managing a slightly wobbly smile at the younger man.
“I wouldn’t ever blame you for that. And not being forgiven isn’t a reason not to try to apologize, you know?
I think it’s something I have to do for me, and maybe it’ll just upset other people, but I hope that maybe eventually, even if not right now, it’ll be good for them, too.
” He huffed a breath. “As someone who’s carried around a lot of anger, I can attest to the fact that it’s toxic.
” He laughed. “Also that someone telling me to let it go when I wasn’t ready to do so was a good way to get a fireball lobbed in their face.
I swear, I’m ready for anything.” He winked.
“Even being kneed in the groin again, if that’s what she needs to do. ”
The Prince bit his lip, and then he couldn’t seem to keep the amusement in, and he started to laugh, his eyes bright with mirth, making him look even more beautiful. “Oh, the look on your face.”
Cormal laughed, too, even though it had definitely not been funny at the time. “I can quite honestly say that I have probably never been more surprised in my life. Nor that I didn’t deserve it.”
Even if Cormal had been sort of right, he’d gone about it entirely wrong.
He sighed. “All I could imagine was what would have happened if the Princess had suffered her illness, or been attacked or injured, when no one was there to protect her. I wasn’t thinking about little girls or feeling trapped or anything except how she was doing something stupid, and I needed to stop it and keep her safe. ”
Kinan’s expression was soft. “You know,” he said, “I think there’s a streak of stubbornness in both of you that probably explains why you’re at an impasse now.”
Cormal squinted at him. “Are you saying I have the maturity of a thirteen-year-old?”
The Prince chortled with laughter. “Maybe I’m saying Renny is really mature for her age.”
That was absolutely not what he’d been saying, and Cormal couldn’t help but laugh as well.
Maybe Kinan wasn’t totally wrong. At thirteen, Cormal had still been anxiously waiting to see if he was going to get an element and be able to train to be a Mage Warrior like Brannal and his father.
He’d been waiting to find out if he was going to be a complete disappointment, and maybe there was part of him that had never… quite grown out of that mindset.
Kinan looked at him, and his gray eyes were both soft and wary. “I’ll ask. But just… please don’t expect too much.”
Cormal shook his head. “I won’t. Promise.”
If Molun was any indication, then it wasn’t going to go well, but he would at least have tried. In the last few months, all he’d done was tell himself that there was nothing to be done, that everyone else would have to change.
He would try.
(He still remembered the look on Princess Larenia’s face when he’d yelled that her brother was dead.
He’d been so focused on correcting her behavior, on making her safe, that he hadn’t thought at all about the cost. The grief had been scalding, and when she’d screamed that she hated him forever…
well, he’d meant it when he said he’d deserved that knee to the groin, even if he’d been furious—and blamed Perian—at the time.)
“You’d better get to dinner,” Kinan said after a moment. “Not all of us can go without eating, right?”
Cormal nodded, finally, because the alternative, saying that he’d be happy to not eat with Kinan and keep him company was… not smart, right?
“Thanks again for talking with me,” Cormal told him. “I appreciate it more than I can say.”
Kinan flashed him a smile. “You’re very welcome.”
Maybe Cormal really could get through this. It felt so much more doable with someone supporting him, even if Cormal knew he needed to do the work himself.
The next morning, he went to see Onadal and apologized for the false report.
The older man had the best impassive face of anyone Cormal had ever met outside of maybe Brannal and the Queen.
“This entire system runs on trust and loyalty,” Onadal told him sternly. “We have to be able to believe the reports we receive and that the Mage Warriors have our backs. If that system is undermined, it all falls apart.”
Cormal nodded. He knew that. He just hadn’t thought about the way what he’d done had jeopardized the system.
Onadal poked him in the chest. “If you undermine that, then it all falls apart.”
Cormal nodded. “I made a bad call. I thought the ends justified the means—and I picked the wrong end.”
Onadal continued to stare at him, eventually shook his head, and then finally said, “If you ever do something like that again, we’re through, understood?”
Cormal nodded. He wasn’t actually sure what that would mean. Would the man quit? Would he make Cormal quit? Would he kill him and bury his body where no one would find him? That might actually solve a lot of problems. But Cormal was really trying to demonstrate that he’d learned his lesson.