Chapter 43 Alar
ALAR
"Duty pulls in many directions. The measure of people is not which duty they choose, but how they live with the choice."
—King Aldric III of Catonia, Letters to My Daughters
Istood at the stove, guarding the caff pot as it neared boiling, when a knock sounded at the door.
It was still technically night, too early for breakfast delivery, but perhaps they had decided to deliver it earlier because our flight tests were starting at first light.
I looked through the peephole to make sure that it was the kitchen attendant and not a would-be assassin. Not that assassins knocked before entering. The person on the other side wasn't wearing a white apron pushing a cart with food, though. It was a third-year cadet holding a letter.
My stomach dropped.
I doubted that the correspondence was meant for any of my friends, their families wishing them good luck on the last day of testing. This letter was for me, and it could only mean that things had gotten worse at home.
There was no way that it was a response letter to the one I had written my mother because it wouldn't have made it back yet.
I unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Good morning," I told the cadet.
"Good morning." He handed me the letter. "Express delivery for Cadet Alar Tekum. It's marked urgent." He saluted and departed without another word.
The envelope was thick, the paper heavy and expensive, and the seal pressed into the wax unmistakable. It was the royal crest of Catonia, which meant that my family was no longer bothering to conceal my identity.
They meant to expose me.
They didn’t know that I’d already been exposed. Saphir had read my mind back in the Circle of Fate, discovering my true identity, and he’d told all the wing and section commanders. The rank-and-file didn’t know, but the brass did.
I carried the envelope to the dining table, sat down, and as I broke the seal, I felt as if I was sealing my fate.
The letter inside was written in my mother's hand.
My dearest Alar,
I write to you with the heaviest of hearts. Your father's condition has deteriorated rapidly since the first letter I sent you.
I know how important this dragon-riding adventure has been to you, and if I could, I would have loved nothing more than to let you stay and fulfill your childhood dreams, but this is no longer an option. Your father is asking for you.
There are matters at court that require your presence.
Arrangements are being made that affect your future and the future of our family.
Your brothers have convened without you, and decisions are being discussed that you should have a voice in.
I cannot say more in a letter, but please understand—this is not merely a mother's plea but a matter of duty and obligation.
Your brothers add their voices to mine and implore you to come home immediately.
With all of my love,
Your Mother
I read the letter twice. Then a third time.
The words blurred. I blinked hard, forcing my vision to clear.
Father's condition had worsened, and he was asking for me.
This couldn't be happening. Not now. Not when I was one day away from everything I had worked so hard for.
Tomorrow, I would bond with a dragon. Tomorrow, I would begin my journey into immortality. Tomorrow, I would seal my commitment to Kailin and the prophecy and the future of Aurorys.
The timing was impossible, perfectly calculated to cause maximum damage. The wording of the letter was also overly emotional, which didn’t reflect the way my mother usually communicated.
But what if it was true?
I thought of my stern, demanding father who somehow still let me know that he loved me without actually saying it or showing it.
I'd thought that he believed in me, that this was why he'd let me convince him to allow me to join the pilgrimage in Elucia.
He'd agreed that there was merit to my claim that the Elurian Federation needed a dragon force, and that the only way to gather intelligence about the Elucian defenses was from the inside.
But apparently, he'd never believed I would actually make it this far and bond with a dragon. He'd expected me to fail and come home ready to accept whatever minor role he'd carved out for me in his court.
But I hadn't failed. I'd been elevated to a level I could have never expected. I was part of the prophesied seven, and I was the partner of the Hero of Elucia and its future shaman.
I heard one of the bedroom doors open, and a moment later, Codric trudged into the common room, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He stopped when he saw me at the table. "Who died?"
I held out the letter without speaking.
He took it, the creases in his forehead deepening as he read. When he finished, he set it down and pulled out the chair across from me.
"When did this arrive?"
"Just now. Express delivery." I lifted the envelope to show him the broken royal seal. "They are not playing around anymore."
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
"I don't know." The words felt hollow. "What if it's true? What if he's dying?"
Mother hadn't said it in her letter, but she'd implied it.
"Then he's dying whether you're there or not."
The bluntness should have stung, but it didn't. Codric had always been the one person who told me the truth, even when I didn't want to hear it.
"If he dies and I wasn't there..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
"You'll live with that," Codric said. "If you leave now, you will have to live with losing everything you wanted, everything you worked for. Which one will be more difficult?"
I knew the answer to that and hated it because it was selfish. I was choosing myself over my father and my family.
"It might be manipulation," I said, to ease my conscience. "The timing is too perfect."
"It might be." Codric leaned back in his chair. "Your family has never been above using emotional manipulation as a weapon. It's a royal thing, I guess."
"What if he really is asking for me?"
"Then he's asking you to choose between him and everything you've worked for." Codric's eyes met mine. "That's not a father's love, Alar. That's control. Even from a deathbed. Say no."
Codric was right. Even if the letter was genuine, even if my father truly was dying, the demand was the same as it had always been—come home, be the son he wanted me to be, and abandon what he regarded as foolish dreams.
"I don't know if I can live with that." I rubbed my temples with my thumb and forefinger.
Codric reached across the table and gripped my shoulders. "You live with it the same way you've lived with every other impossible choice you've had to make. You make the decision, and you don't look back. You can't let your family make this decision for you. You have to choose for yourself."
I looked at my cousin, my friend, my confidant, the one person who always understood the full weight of what I was carrying. "What would you do?"
"I'd stay." No hesitation. "I'd grieve, and I'd feel guilty, and I'd question myself forever. But I'd stay. Because the alternative is worse."
I looked down at the letter again, at my mother's elegant script, at the desperation bleeding through every line. She loved me. I'd never doubted that or her love for my brothers. But first and foremost, she served Catonia. She had shaped her entire existence around the demands of her crown.
She would choose the good of the country over the good of her sons any day.
"Are you going to tell Kailin?" Codric asked.
I shook my head. "Maybe later, but not today. She's stressed enough as it is."
Codric nodded. "That's probably wise. She doesn't need this on her mind during the evaluations. Neither do you, but you have no choice. You are stuck with it."
The bathroom door opened, and Kailin emerged, her blond hair damp from washing, her blue eyes still sleepy. She looked at me, then at Codric, and frowned.
"What's wrong? You both look like someone died."
I forced a smile. "Pre-test anxiety."
She didn't look convinced, but she didn't press. "We should eat something. The flight tests start in an hour."