10. Contrition #2
“I would never begrudge you your grief, V—” He clamped his mouth shut, averting his gaze to some distant spot on the wall.
Every second he remained silent dug the pit in my stomach a little deeper.
Finally, he looked back. “Explain to me why,” he said.
“Tell me why you thought me capable of such an atrocity.”
“Without any answers to my questions, I allowed my imagination to conjure an explanation. Any explanation for why my mother and Grantis were dead and you were not.”
“No, my lady, that’s not good enough.” His voice was cold, but polite. Even as he rebuked me, he still made an attempt at respect. Digging that knife of guilt a little deeper.
“Nothing made sense, don’t you see? I was so angry and…” My voice trailed into silence at the pain on his face.
Though I’d known Corbyn for most of my life, he was still, in many ways, a stranger.
He’d always been so distant and cold—determined to perform his duty and nothing more.
I could count on one hand the number of times I’d seen him smile.
But in my observance of his indifference these long years, I’d made the critical mistake of believing him to be heartless.
No one was without feeling. Not even him.
“And there is no excuse,” I continued, fighting back the tears that suddenly welled in my eyes. “I could never have conceived what turned out to be the truth. I can only thank you for telling it.”
His gaze softened the slightest bit. “I had no reason to lie, my lady,” he said. “And I… You are not the only one that grieves your mother’s death.”
Without warning, the tears sprang forth, the strength to keep them at bay finally failing me. I doubled over, burying my face in my hands. Corbyn took tentative hold of my elbow to steady me.
It’s alright, Asvoria, the Shadow soothed.
Hastily, I wiped the tears away, swallowing down a sob as I looked up at him. Sympathy shone from his eyes, even as he released me and took a step back. I straightened up, tugging at my shirt’s hem to straighten out the wrinkles. If only I could smooth away my shame as easily.
I’d been such a fool.
“Can you forgive me?” The question was out of my mouth before I could contend with it. Did I actually crave his forgiveness? The mess of emotions coursing through my chest made it difficult to tell.
He gave me a discerning look. “You forgave me for that, didn’t you?” he asked, glancing at my chin. “My scars are not so easily seen, my lady. And they will heal. Going forward, I ask only for the same confidence and… trust that your mother gave me.”
A weight lifted from my chest, freeing my lungs. “I think I can manage that,” I said, projecting more courage than I felt. “And to answer your question: yes, I have. Long ago.”
I was seventeen when it happened, bolder than was prudent and with a tendency to look down on those I thought beneath me.
Which, in those days, was most everyone.
My father’s poison, Mother used to call it.
She was right, in a way, though I still bore responsibility for my own misgivings.
And I’d been painfully ignorant regarding my mother’s Talons.
He’d been in the practice yard with Grantis that day, both in half-Shift.
They were sparring with their fists, their movements as quick as their verbal jabs.
I thought myself important enough to step onto the pitch and stop them.
I couldn’t even remember why I felt the need to.
Perhaps my mother had need of them, or maybe it was some vain attempt to assert my authority. Either way, I paid for it.
At least I knew now what folly it was to sneak up on a dragon when their wings were out. Corbyn had been so preoccupied with Grantis that he didn’t sense me coming. And when I startled him, a spike on his wing struck me in the face.
A hefty dose of stupidity and a dragon that hadn’t been paying attention made a recipe for disaster and permanent disfigurement. I’d come to terms with it years ago, though the memory of my idiocy still brought shame to the surface sometimes.
I dragged myself out of my reverie, focusing back on the dragon in front of me. “It is my fervent wish, Talon Arlbright, that we can move past all this.”
He seemed somehow lighter, running a hand through his auburn hair and releasing a long breath. “I will take my leave of you now, Your Majesty,” he said. “It’s been a long day. I hope you can find some rest.” It wasn’t exactly an agreement, but it would do for now.
A sad smile found its way to my lips. “I will not know peace until this assassin is found and dealt with, though I appreciate the sentiment.”
His face turned grave . “We will find him, my lady. I swear it. And he will pay for his crimes.”
“Aye, that he will,” I replied.
He nodded curtly and left the room, his scarlet cape sweeping behind him. I watched him disappear behind the door, taking my shame with him.
As soon as the door closed, the Shadow perked up. Well, that wasn’t so bad.
I rolled my eyes, walking over to where my trunk sat beneath the window. You weren’t much help.
Tch, she scoffed. You didn’t need any. At least that’s out of the way.
Do you think he meant it? I asked, drawing my nightgown out of the trunk.
Meant what?
I drew in a sharp breath, trying to will away my shaky nerves. That he grieves for my mother .
The Shadow pulsed slowly. Asvoria, she said quietly, sadness in her voice, I have known Talon Arlbright for many years. He was never anything but dutiful. Perhaps that is the extent of it, but…
But what?
She rolled a shrug. There’s always a chance he cared more than he let on.
You don’t think ? —?
Granted, it is unlikely, she cut in. But it’s possible.
Though the Shadow knew him well, I really didn’t. He was my mother’s Talon for most of my life, and I didn’t get to be with her often. Her duties as Queen always kept her busy. She did her best to make time for me, but I ached for a multitude of lost moments.
It wasn’t until five years ago, when I turned eighteen, that she really had me take on a greater role in the day-to-day business of the queen.
I saw more of the Talons then, but I hadn’t really paid them much mind, not after Corbyn gave me my scar.
I was ashamed of causing my own disfigurement, and being around him only reminded me of that.
And besides, I thought I had years before I’d be Queen, with Talons of my own.
I never dreamed I might one day have the same relationship with Corbyn that my mother did.
Had there been something deeper between them than I ever realized?
As I undressed for bed, I heard him moving about in the sitting room, settling in for his portion of the watch. The Shadow’s words weighed on my mind.
Of course, anything was possible, but it seemed so odd. To think that a Talon might love an Erling Queen defied logic. We were the reason the dragons had been forced into the treaty in the first place. Though maybe a thousand years was enough time for the hostilities of the past to be forgotten.
I slipped beneath the covers, settling into the warm bed in search of comfort.
At least I wouldn’t have to listen to the howling of shades.
The spirits I now had the power to control were more restless after dark, and their sorrow called out to the darkthread in the depths of night.
How my mother endured it, I would never know.
But blessedly, they did not dwell within the confines of the Forest.
Enjoy this respite, the Shadow hummed. I fear only more trials await us on the morrow.
How comforting. She really was a bleak little creature. But she was right about one thing. Even if only for this night, I could escape the never-ending whispers of the dead.