Chapter 15 #3
“You were,” I argued. “You were bleeding, Kallen. And the reason I nearly got myself killed is because I wasn’t going to let you fight alone.
” I was squeezing his fingers too hard, but I couldn’t seem to let go.
“I’m not willing to watch someone who tried to help me get hurt.
Even if it gives me an advantage later. Even if it’s the right thing to do for Blood House, it’s not my right thing to do. ”
And that might be my weakness. A wise ruler made sacrifices for the greater good; when the fate of thousands rested on one side of the scales, a true queen wouldn’t weigh a single life against it.
But I wasn’t a queen. Wasn’t even a proper princess, really. I was a stubborn peasant girl who had inexplicably been given power, and my loyalty was fierce but finite. Kallen had earned it today.
I wondered if he was also thinking what a flawed leader this made me. But all he did was look at me with that unwavering focus. “Then the only thing that matters is what you can live with,” he said. “And what you can’t.”
I wondered how many sacrifices he’d had to weigh over the years, how many times he’d selected the lesser of two evils—or if he’d ever selected the greater one. “What have you been unable to live with?”
He seemed surprised that I’d asked, but he always seemed surprised when my curiosity was directed at him. Everyone else in Mistei probably assumed they knew his answers already. “A few things. Not enough, probably.”
“Will you tell me about them?”
He looked down at our connected hands. “Someday.”
Disappointment settled on my shoulders, but at least it wasn’t an outright refusal. He’d spent three long centuries making sure no one had any idea what he held sacred. That would be a hard habit to break.
“Someday,” I said softly.
Kallen squeezed my fingers, then released my hand. I tried not to feel disappointed as he stood. “I need to get back to Void House to discuss this with Hector.”
“Will he think it was a bad choice?” I asked, standing as well.
I suspected Drustan would be disappointed we were risking public battles during a peace period when we were supposed to look like the reasonable ones, but I didn’t know enough about Hector to understand what his moral code had room for and what it didn’t.
“Hector doesn’t waste time on questions like that,” Kallen replied.
“He’ll say the soldiers opened themselves to retribution the moment they tried to plant that salamander.
He cares less about what led to a particular outcome than what happens after—for him, once something is done, it’s done, and there’s no point wasting time wishing it was different. ”
That was an enviable way to live. An efficient way, too. It was probably how a king needed to think.
His first policy letter had been similarly blunt.
He’d informed me that his first action as king would be to eliminate the changeling practice.
We can’t bring back the children who died , he’d written, but we can make sure no more are lost because of narrow-minded bastards.
A similar sentiment to what Drustan had sent, but a very different tone.
I still had one major doubt about Hector, though. I steeled myself, knowing this would be uncomfortable. “You care about Hector.”
He hesitated, then finally nodded, as if expressing affection for a family member was dangerous. It probably had been.
“I’m going to ask you something, and I need you to swear not to lie to me.”
“I’m not going to lie to you.” He sounded offended at the idea.
Promises were meaningless in Mistei, but Kallen had risked his life to save me, and he was currently standing weaponless in the heart of my territory. Trust had to start somewhere.
“Drustan said something once,” I began haltingly. “About the ladies Hector preferred. I don’t know if you remember me mentioning it…”
I saw the moment he realized what I was talking about. His eyes widened. “Shards,” he said softly. “I’d forgotten he said that to you.”
Back when I’d been Kallen’s spy, he’d ordered me to find out what Drustan knew about Hector.
In retrospect, he’d obviously been trying to figure out how much Drustan knew about Void’s plans for an uprising.
He’d likely been anticipating this thorny succession question of what would happen if Drustan were to strike Osric before Hector could.
I’d come up with the flimsiest of excuses to speak with Drustan, claiming I was worried about Hector watching Lara, and Drustan had said something chilling in response.
He normally likes them a little less noble. A little more defenseless.
“Is it true?” I asked, pulse racing and stomach beginning to feel queasy. “Is he a rapist?”
“No,” Kallen said vehemently. “Never.” He gripped my arms and looked me in the eye. “Hector has done terrible things over the years, the way we all have, but that is something he would never, ever do. Please believe me.”
Relief fluttered in my chest, though a paranoid voice in my head told me people could be blinded by family loyalty. “Then why did Drustan say that? Did he make it up?”
Sadness ghosted over his face. “Drustan wasn’t making it up, though I have no idea if he actually believes it.
There was a rumor that went around after…
something happened. Something awful.” I opened my mouth to ask for details, but he shook his head.
“It’s not my secret to share. I’ll ask Hector if he’ll allow it, but… this is a deep wound, Kenna.”
It was hard to imagine anything wounding the snarling Void prince. “Why didn’t Hector try to clear his name, then? Why let everyone think he’s a monster?”
Kallen’s mouth tightened, and he let go of me and stepped back. “It’s better for our enemies to believe us monsters than to know what we truly care for.”
A chill raced down my spine. What an awful thing to believe—and how horrible that after only six months in Mistei, I understood why he believed it. “But to that extent? He needs to address that rumor if he wants to become king; otherwise, how can anyone support him?”
Kallen made a frustrated sound. “You are vastly overestimating how much the Fae care if their rulers are monstrous. Osric’s level of evil was unprecedented, but our history is full of tyrants.
” Before I could argue that was no reason to continue the tradition, he kept speaking.
“It’s not a well-known rumor, at any rate.
And there was more in play at the time than just Hector’s reputation.
If Osric had discovered what truly happened, he would have started asking questions, and that would have led to consequences. ”
This lack of clarity was maddening. “What sort of consequences?”
Complicated emotions shifted across Kallen’s face.
“You asked me what I couldn’t live with.
I do have my limits, and I made a choice many years ago for the sake of what I thought was right.
” He shook his head. “At first Hector told me it was a foolish, dangerous idea. That I was placing the entirety of Void House at risk. But I did it anyway.”
Did what? I wanted to demand, but at least he was telling me something.
“When Hector realized I wasn’t going to stop,” Kallen continued, “he accepted it. What was done was done, and there was no point wishing it were otherwise. Since then, he’s helped me protect this secret.
That’s part of why he didn’t deny the rumor—because revealing the truth would have risked many lives. ”
The urge to know the secret was killing me. I bit the inside of my cheek, looking at him pleadingly.
Kallen sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “You are incredibly hard to say no to.”
“Then don’t say no.”
He let out a weary chuckle. “You’ll get it out of me, don’t worry. Not tonight, though. Tonight you need to rest—and because this secret isn’t just mine, I need to speak with Hector and Una first.”
Frustration warred with intense curiosity, but I nodded.
“Now go to bed, Kenna. Tomorrow’s scheming will arrive sooner than you think.”
He left after that. I sat on the settee, staring at the wall and focusing on the ripples in the house’s magic as it marked his passing. He’d refused to let me walk him out, telling me it would negate the entire point of him carrying me upstairs.
The entrance door closed far below, and then he was gone, off to the next step of his tireless quest to shape Mistei’s future. I modified the house’s guest list, denying him access once more.
My room felt strangely empty without him.