Chapter 68
HONOR
“He’s ready to see you,” Dickey said, standing in my doorway. I gave him my back, only wearing my shift. I’d insisted he come the moment Dewalt was ready for me, no matter the time.
When soldiers had begun to arrive at the fortress, returning from where they’d run for safety, I’d fetched the healer immediately. Dewalt’s panic and fear had led him to pulling the dart out of his leg without any care, and I worried about the damage caused. But because of where the wound was on his thigh, I’d been dismissed by the healer for his privacy. Though I’d looked to Dewalt for some sort of intervention, the invitation to stay, he hadn’t made eye contact with me since I’d brought the conduit and other soldiers to help him.
So, I’d left, with ringing ears and a cold tightening of my chest. I’d tried not to think much of it—he was in some sort of shock, I supposed—but there had been a sinking feeling I hadn’t been able to shake until Dickey’s soft knock on my door.
“Finally,” I said, taking my brush to my damp hair. A bathing tub had been brought to me shortly after I’d arrived in my room, with scullery maids who filled it with steaming hot water from the kitchen down the hall. Though the idea of cleansing my hair from the wretched scent of smoke had been appealing, I’d protested. But they had insisted, on orders from the duke . Ever since, the worry over his physical health had dissipated, but fear over his mind had gripped me. Snatching my dressing gown from the end of my bed, I pulled it on.
The red-haired boy in my doorway looked exhausted, covered in sweat and ash from helping clear the armory. His crossed arms appeared a bit bulkier, and I smiled when I realized he’d begun to put on muscle. He’d been complaining about how skinny he was ever since he’d failed to make an impression on Saski’s daughter. He hadn’t listened to me when I’d told him that wouldn’t matter to the right person. Dickey shook his head, pushing his tongue against his cheek. “I think you should wait until tomorrow, though.”
“Why?” My stomach tightened.
“Just don’t think he’s in the right state of mind.”
“He seemed calm enough when I left.”
“It’s not that.” He swiped at his nose, refusing to meet my eyes. “I think I’ve said enough. If you want to go tonight, I’ll escort you. But I’d advise against it.”
My next breath was shallow, and I wrapped my arms around my body. Part of me wanted to listen to Dickey, to wait until the morning and allow him some time. But Dewalt’s words, when he’d been gasping for air and saying something about his heart, about how he couldn’t , had set me on edge ever since. Was it selfish for me to visit because I needed peace?
Dewalt had left the fortress to avoid me, and then he’d saved my life. I had suspicions about his state of mind, and I needed to see if I was correct, regardless of Dickey’s warning. Within a few moments, I was padding down the corridor to his chambers. The soft leather shoes I wore had been gifted to me by Marella, and I was grateful for their warmth as a draft ripped through the fabric of my dressing gown. Though the breeze coming from the Mahowin Strait had been warm, I felt frozen to my core.
“I would like to remind you I said this was a bad idea,” Dickey said before rapping on the door. I only glared at him.
“Come in.” The low timbre of Dewalt’s voice washed over me, warm and calm. To hear him speak normally, without the tinge of panic behind his words, was a weight lifted.
“Would you like me to wait to escort her back?” Dickey asked, cracking open the door.
Dewalt stood over Raj’s desk, hands planted on its surface as he looked down at the parchment scattered over it. He wore a work shirt, crisp white, with the drawstring loosened at the top. Copper skin—clean from a bath, it seemed—appeared warm and inviting. I knew it was warm and inviting, as I’d curled up against it in the earth lodge. But when he didn’t lift his eyes to look at me, I banished all thoughts about his skin.
“I can manage myself,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the back of Dickey’s head.
“You heard her,” Dewalt said, not looking up. No hint of a smile graced his features, and my stomach churned. I’d been right. The worry which had swirled in my belly ever since I’d seen him last was justified.
I’d been a fool.
Shoving past Dickey with my heart in my throat, I stood on the other side of the desk from Dewalt. He was alive—standing. I could only thank Rhia that the Silence had strayed from her usual choice of poison. His jaw was tight, and when he finally looked up, it wasn’t at me. He raised a brow, waiting for Dickey to shut the door as he left.
“I’m sorry for today. I was overwhelmed,” he said, voice flat. He shuffled the papers on his desk, going through the correspondence he’d received while visiting the encampments.
“There is nothing to apologize for,” I said. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”
He finally lifted his chin to look at me. His brown eyes appeared dark in the lamplight, almost like obsidian. The lines of his face, so used to slipping into smiles, were tight and unmoving. He swallowed, eyes narrowing slightly, and everything within me fractured as he spoke.
“I’ve wronged you, Nor. I’ve led you to believe the impossible. That there could be something between us.”
The world shrank to the size of his study. When he’d broken down in the courtyard, I knew. Earlier, really. When he’d left the fortress without a word, it had been fear ruling him, just as his sister had predicted. I’d been a fool to think that had changed just because we’d both nearly met our end a few hours prior.
“ You are the only impossibility,” I said, voice sounding foreign to my own ears. A horrible, oily sensation oozed down my throat and began to burn.
“I cannot love you, Nor,” he said, refusing to look me in the eye. Instead, he watched my lips, focus narrowed. “There are things you don’t know.”
“Then tell me.” I frowned, hating how pitiful I sounded. I’d yearned for love and affection my entire life, only sustained by the tiniest of scraps. But I wouldn’t do that here, no matter how much it would hurt me to let him go. When he didn’t answer, I pulled my dressing robe tighter. It felt as if I had to, to hold my heart at bay. If I didn’t, it would burst out of me. Landing on the table between us, I would bleed out on the parchment. “I will not beg,” I told him. “I will not beg to be loved by you. I will not beg to understand. But I will ask you for the truth—and only this once.”
He turned, grabbing a cane which leaned against his chair. Using it to move around the desk, he directed me toward the small sofa in the corner.
“Has the paralytic not worn off?” I asked, unable to suppress my concern for him even now.
“Ah, yes. And no. It—it’s not important,” he said, and I watched as he lifted one foot higher than the other to walk, his toe dragging on the ground.
“I think it best if you let me decide what is and isn’t important to me,” I snapped, instantly regretting my harshness.
But he only nodded before sitting down on the threadbare sofa. “It’s no longer numb. However, my foot refuses to cooperate. The healer thinks I might have injured a nerve when I pulled out the dart.”
I’d had a feeling he’d done damage, and my stomach tightened. “They couldn’t fix it?”
Palms up, his hands rested in his lap, and I noticed they shook. It took everything in me not to sit beside him and draw those beautiful hands which had touched me so reverently into my own lap for comfort.
“No. Perhaps Emma might be able to do something. I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll manage either way, so it doesn’t matter.” My heart broke for him, hoping he was right about the queen. If he had to adjust his life for this, I knew it wouldn’t be as simple as he seemed to think. Before I had a chance to speak, he continued. “I needed to tell you I’m sorry for any dishonor I’ve brought upon you.”
“Dishonor?” I asked, incredulous.
Heat stained his cheeks. “The night after you fell in the water?—”
“I asked for that. Don’t taint it with whatever choice you’ve made about us.”
“There is no choice,” he said. “To love me is to remove it.”
I scoffed, moving to sit beside him. “Are you so vain to think I have no choice in the matter? Because I—” My voice died on my tongue. Did I have a choice, though? Did I want someone who had been so broken by his past that he thought himself incapable of love? Would I want someone who would need to convince himself to be with me? If those were the only factors, I might have said no. I might have told myself I’d never choose him. But that wasn’t the sum of Dewalt—not at all.
A wry smile tipped the corner of his mouth. If it weren’t for the missing glint of mischief in his eye, I’d have thought he was back to his normal self. “See? You don’t have a choice in how you feel, do you?”
“Does anyone?” I retorted, exasperated. “Just get to the heart of what you want to say, Dewalt.”
“What I mean to say is that I know how important having a choice is to you, now that you are free from the Myriad.”
“Yes, and?” Impatience flickered through me, urging my foot to tap on the ground without my consent. He adjusted, stretching out his leg, no longer looking at me.
“I hadn’t intended to tell you this, but I don’t want to hurt you. Perhaps it will make you understand.”
“What—” I nearly shouted, growing more irate by the moment. But he raised his hand, stopping me. He appeared haunted, dark circles beneath his eyes.
“You remember Lucia appeared to me? When the shifter stabbed me?”
“Yes,” I said, staring toward the fireplace to avoid his gaze. Crossing my arms over my chest, I adjusted my weight to one leg. There had been nothing to dwell on regarding what he’d seen at the precipice of death. Often, I’d heard of people seeing things they wanted to see at the moment of Damia’s approach; perhaps death’s servant offered the visions as a gift before escorting souls to the eternal lands. It had made sense he’d seen Lucia.
“There were many things she said, but only one of them applied to you. To us .” His brows lowered, and his jaw clenched. I swallowed, aware of the growing solemnity in his tone. “She said we would become more important to each other than any other. That I would mean more to you than I had to anyone else.” The confession of her words exhausted him, his posture curling inward. I blinked at him, unsure of what to say.
“And this is a bad thing? To mean such a thing to someone?” I asked, so very carefully. It was clear this had brought him untold turmoil. But I couldn’t quite understand.
“Yes,” he said, staring at me. I refused to look at him. I didn’t trust myself not to yell or cry. “Because by telling you, I have removed your choice. How could you know if it’s what you truly want if it has been foretold?” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him pick at his clothing, as if it offended him.
“And by not telling me, you also removed my choice. So either way, I don’t get to choose?”
“I-I suppose it allowed you to learn your heart without?—”
“Is that not what I’ve done?” I straightened my posture, faking the poise I knew I lacked. “Without any knowledge of whatever nonsense she said to you, whatever prophecy she might have woven, I listened to my heart. I learned it as I fell for you.”
“But that could be because of my own interference. Because I want you, I could have influenced things with the knowledge that I would be important to you. If it is all prophesied, how is it real?”
“Gods damn the prophecies!” I shouted, surprising myself even at the vehemence of my words and the vulgar language which soared from my tongue. He startled, body slamming backward, as I stood. Whirling to face him, I breathed deeply before I spoke.
“I know it is real in my heart. Everything I feel for you has been planted there—like a weed or a rose, I’m not sure. But it was me who tended it, who watered it, even despite my best interests. Just admit you are afraid—of love or pain. I’m not sure which one frightens you more,” I snapped. “Love is pain, Dewalt. Love is pain and joy and sorrow and laughter. Love is trust and fear, and it is everything . It is all of the things you have been too afraid to feel all these years, and you wouldn’t know it if it slapped you in the face,” I said. “Which, truthfully, I am quite inclined to do.”
He only stared, brows tight and lips pursed.
“You loved someone, and it ruined you. And you never stopped letting it ruin you. She’s almost been gone longer than she ever lived. But you died too. You let yourself die.”
And then I spun on my heel, striding toward the door. I couldn’t stop the tears as they formed, but I refused to let him see them. I’d learned what love was in spite of never properly receiving it. I’d learned its cost, and had decided it was worth it. I didn’t allow myself to cry as I thought about how the only person to make me feel that kind of immeasurable love had no idea he was capable of conquering its depths.