Chapter Thirteen #2
He’d shaken a lot of people’s trust in him, and Onadal was right—how could they do any of this if they didn’t trust one another?
If Warriors went out into the country thinking that a report might be false and it wasn’t, it was a good way to get killed.
Or what if they ignored a report that they didn’t think was true and then people were killed?
What if anyone else did what Cormal had done?
Not everyone knew what had happened, thankfully, but enough people did. Cormal’s gaze strayed past Onadal.
“Is it all right if I talk to Xametta for a few minutes?”
Onadal nodded, and Cormal thought that maybe that was a tiny bit of respect in his eyes. Improving from rock bottom wasn’t exactly stunning success, but it was better than staying at rock bottom.
Besides, it shouldn’t be surprising that after being lied to—even if he hadn’t thought of it like that at the time—people had trouble taking him at his word now.
Yet one more of those consequences that he hadn’t anticipated.
Xametta looked very wary but agreed to speak with him, probably more because he was Summus than because she actually wanted to hear anything Cormal had to say.
He made sure they were far enough away from the other Warriors training that they wouldn’t be overheard.
“I wanted to apologize,” Cormal told her. “I put you in an untenable situation, and I didn’t think about what it would mean for you. I was wrong. I should never have asked you to lie, and I apologize for it.”
The woman stared at him for a long moment, and then she nodded. She still looked upset, but she surprised him.
“I wouldn’t have done it for you, you know.” He blinked at her. “He was Summus, and you were Secundus. But the royal seal was on that letter. That’s why I did it.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t think I made the right choice, but it was a royal order.”
He felt something ease a little inside him, even if maybe it shouldn’t have. It had been his stupid idea, but he’d executed it with the full approval of the Queen. He’d genuinely thought that getting Brannal away from Perian’s influence would fix everything.
He swallowed. “Still, I’m sorry that you got mixed up in it all.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
And that was that. She went back to training, and he wondered if he could count that as someone accepting his apology. Of course, she’d been involved in only one small part of the whole.
He did feel better acknowledging his mistake, and he hoped she felt a little better, too.
He wondered if he could write a letter to Gribon. Had enough time passed?
He went back to Onadal and asked. The man stared at him for a long moment.
“I’ll take the blame for it,” Cormal said. “If everyone doesn’t know already, they should know that it was me. I made him help.”
“Did you hold a fireball to his face?”
Cormal shook his head.
Onadal said, “He made his own choices.”
“Did he? If I hadn’t been Secundus, would he have done it?”
“That is between him and his conscience.”
“But is that fair? We train them to follow our orders,” Cormal argued. “That’s exactly what he did. If this is what he wants, I’ll try to give it back to him.”
Onadal blew a breath out through his nose. Finally, he said, “Let me write to him. I don’t think it would be helpful for him to receive a letter from you right now.”
Cormal had to be content with that. He wasn’t the only one who’d been hurt by what had happened. He might feel that it was time to apologize and try to heal, but he didn’t want to make it worse for anyone else.
“Thank you,” he told Onadal.
“Now, go away,” the stern man responded. “I have training to oversee.”
But he offered Cormal a nod, and that was more than Cormal had got in some time. He went, blowing out a breath as he walked. He headed to his office, reflecting that even when it was going not so bad, apologizing was more draining than he’d expected.
But just because it was hard didn’t mean it shouldn’t be done. There was no quick fix for this. He wouldn’t give up.
He didn’t see Molun for two days. He was impressed that the man had managed to avoid him so completely.
Yes, they were Summus and Secundus (a large part of the problem), and in a normal day, they would encounter one another a few times, but if what Molun most needed right now was to have a little less Cormal, then that was fine.
When Molun reappeared, he seemed to have decided to act like Cormal hadn’t said anything, and while Cormal couldn’t let that stand forever, it would work for now.
They’d never gotten through their reports so easily, and Cormal handed them over for Molun to give to Onadal without protest. It was their routine now, and he definitely wanted to show that he thought Molun was useful.
He’d learned his lesson that any comment related to Molun’s injuries wouldn’t be beneficial to their relationship, so he didn’t mention that Molun looked more steady on his feet than he had since the injury had happened.
He was still limping, but less so, and he didn’t look as pained when he was sitting down and rising from the chair.
But Cormal didn’t mention it.
Molun didn’t mention it.
Molun left.
That had probably been the quietest and somehow most awkward encounter they’d ever had, but they’d made it, and no one had insulted anyone or dumped water or thrown any fireballs.
Cormal would take anything resembling a win at this point.
It took several more days before Kinan asked him to stay behind after their reading, and then Cormal realized that the Princess had stayed behind, too.
She didn’t actually say anything to him, just crossed her arms and glared. But she hadn’t walked out yet. Kinan patted his shoulder (Cormal wished he was able to feel it), and then left.
Cormal had spent too many sleepless hours trying to figure out how to say this. He met her angry gaze.
“I’m sorry I hurt Perian. I was jealous of his relationship with Brannal, and then when I discovered that he was a carnalion, I truly thought that Brannal was in danger—that we all were—and I didn’t listen to anyone who told me otherwise.
I hurt him, Brannal, you, and all your friends.
I was wrong. I let old fears blind me. I wanted him gone, and I got rid of him.
That was one of the worst decisions I ever made, and I’m sorry it hurt all of you. ”
She continued to stare at him for a long moment and then moved. He’d expected her to leave without a word—and so she took him by surprise when she kneed him as hard as she could in the groin.
He was laughing even as he keeled over from the pain.
Belatedly, he realized that someone was on the floor with him, and when he looked up through pain-bleary eyes, he saw it was Kinan. His face was twisted with concern.
“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think she’d do that!”
Cormal shook his head and managed to get out through teeth gritted with pain, “No, I think that was a perfectly fair reaction, especially given that I tried to blame Perian the last time she did it. It was definitely earned. I’m just going to lie here for a minute.”
Kinan’s hands fluttered around him. “Oh, I wish I could do something!”
Cormal wasn’t sure he’d ever heard the man sound so frustrated. It managed to get him to concentrate on something other than the pain.
“Hey!” he said sharply. Kinan looked at him. “You are doing something. You’re right here with me.”
Some of the tension left Kinan’s face, and he smiled faintly. “Yes, I am.”
“And silver lining,” he managed to gasp out. “You don’t have to worry about anyone kneeing you in the groin, do you?”
Kinan managed a small smile, but said, “It doesn’t sound so bad, really.”
Cormal managed with difficulty to push himself to a seated position, leaning back against the table that he’d been sitting at before his debacle of an apology.
“That’s clearly because you don’t possess an adequate imagination,” Cormal told him.
Kinan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, am I to blame because I didn’t do anything in the first sixteen years of my life to earn being kneed in the groin?”
Cormal laughed softly. “Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure that’s a good thing.”
“Or are you wishing that you’d kneed me in the groin when I tried to kiss you, so that I’d have a basis of comparison?”
Cormal grimaced. “No, you definitely didn’t earn a knee to the groin for that. That would have been cruel.”
Kinan let out a sigh. “At least it would have been something to do with my groin.”
Snorting a laugh, Cormal said, “No, definitely not. Absolutely do not believe that. A knee to the groin and nothing to the groin are complete opposites.”
Kinan met his eyes with far too much seriousness in them. “No touching forever is a really long time.”
Cormal reached out, not caring that he couldn’t actually hold onto him. Kinan would know what he was trying to do.
“We haven’t reached forever. We’re nowhere near forever.”
The look on Kinan’s face was heartbreaking. He gestured around the room at all the books they’d gone through.
“Do you not think so?”
Cormal pushed all his doubts down as far as he could and stared back at the other man resolutely.
“No,” he told him, putting every ounce of conviction in his voice. “All it will take is one book, one idea that we haven’t thought of yet if it’s the right one.”
A tear trickled down Kinan’s face. His eyes were latched onto Cormal’s.
“But do you really think we’re going to find that one idea?”
Cormal met his gaze and promised him, “I won’t stop looking until I find it. I swear to you.”
More tears spilled onto Kinan’s cheeks, and Cormal reached out, tried to do what Kinan had done for him and brush the tears away.
He understood now, in a way he hadn’t when he’d been the one crying by the lake, how hard it was to watch someone cry when you couldn’t touch them.
That had been Kinan’s reality for the last seven years—and he was clearly afraid it would be like that forever.
But Cormal would keep looking, and he didn’t care if everyone else stopped. He didn’t care if he had to go to the Mages and read every book in their library one by one himself. Maybe that would be the best use of his time, once he stopped being Summus.
“Thank you,” Kinan whispered, eyes wet but a little less haunted than they had been a minute ago. “Thank you for wanting to help.”
That had never been Cormal’s problem. The way he’d gone about it had been what messed everything up, when he’d done harm instead.
“I always want to help you,” Cormal assured him. “I’m sorry I made such a mess of everything.”
“That wasn’t just you,” Kinan absolved him again. “Mother wasn’t doing us any favors.”
“I made it worse,” Cormal argued.
“Well.” Kinan shot him a look. “You didn’t make it better.”
Cormal barked out a laugh.
“But you know,” the Prince continued, “my mother is very stubborn, and I’m not sure that you changed her mind on anything.”
That might be true. Brannal had opposed her, and he’d won, in his way, but while she’d let him go, she hadn’t changed her stance about Perian.
Maybe that was the truth about the royal family and the Mage Warriors. They were all a bunch of stubborn idiots, and it worked when they were aligned stubbornly together, but everything fell apart when they were opposed.
Was that why his father had been so stern and absolute? Had he decided that the only way to make them function was to force everyone along his determined path?
It had worked… until it hadn’t. If he hadn’t been like that, might someone have successfully opposed him? Might Cormal have had the guts to do it?
He just didn’t know.
“Do you think you can get off the floor now?” Kinan asked.
Oh, right.
Kinan stood up and held out his hand. Cormal had to brace himself against the table, but he did his best to mimic giving the man his hand to let him “pull” Cormal to his feet.
“I’m sorry it didn’t go better with Renny,” Kinan said apologetically.
He seemed to be taking it hard.
Cormal shook his head. “Not at all. I hurt her very much, and I hurt some of her favorite people. Thank you for at least getting her to stay here long enough to listen to me. Maybe it won’t do any good at all.
Maybe she’ll process it and decide that she has questions or she wants to yell at me or she wants to knee me in the groin again.
But it’s better than me not even acknowledging that I hurt her.
Honestly, even if I still thought I was right, I could at least have done that sooner. ”
Kinan shot him a look. “I think you would have gotten kneed in the groin sooner.”
Cormal laughed. “Probably. But that’s all right. I mean, it hurt a lot, but I think I can say with assurance which one of us was hurt more.”
Kinan eyed him with concern. “I’m not sure your groin can, uh, handle all that hurt.”
Cormal huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, it’s not my first choice in how she expresses herself, but I understand where she’s coming from. It’s part of the reason I throw fireballs.”
“To get all those emotions out?” Kinan asked.
Cormal nodded. “Sometimes I just lose my temper, of course. Sometimes, it feels like a good outlet for all the anger inside me. But I’m not so sure anymore that it’s actually helping.”
“If it feels like it’s helping, isn’t that enough?”
Cormal scoffed. “No, I can state pretty categorically that something that feels like it’s helping may, in fact, be doing the exact opposite.”
Kinan tried to touch his arm. “Oh, Cormal, I didn’t mean—”
Cormal shook his head. “No, of course you didn’t. Because you’ve chosen to be more forgiving than I deserve. Your support means a lot to me. I won’t forget it.”
Kinan nodded, still looking troubled.
“I should get to dinner,” Cormal said.
Kinan nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Cormal nodded and barely bit back the words to tell him that it was the highlight of his day.
He didn’t need to put that on a twenty-two-year-old prince who was being kind to him, did he?
“See you tomorrow,” he agreed instead.
Kinan walked off, as silent as always, and Cormal wished with everything in him that he had a special ability to find the answer they sought. He’d trade his own power to do it. He wanted so badly for the man to be happy, to be whole.
He blew out a breath and made himself head for his room. Or maybe that was just him wanting an easy fix when what he really needed to do was keep putting the work in. It seemed unfair that the delay hurt Kinan, but Cormal didn’t know how to change that.
He’d been having his dinner quietly alone the last few days because it had seemed better than inflicting his presence on others when his apologies were having such mixed results. But if they had things to say to him, then maybe he should give them opportunities to do so.
For tonight, since his meal was already waiting for him, he served himself and then pulled out another one of the blasted boring magic books and started to read.
He had a promise to keep.