Chapter 22 #2
“Tell us how it happened.”
“I ordered him to kneel, and then I knighted him.”
A series of scoffs ruptured behind them. A sharp look from the king cut off any simmering remarks.
“Why?” Torvald asked.
"I needed a knight at my side, Your Majesty,” Nesrin replied, “to fortify my men and make them believe that we would not just survive, but win. We didn’t know what was coming for us, only that we were likely outnumbered.
If Sir Bastion had not come when he did, we would have been caught unaware.
From the moment he set foot in the palace, Sir Bastion has been a truer example of knighthood than most who have earned the title. "
The king sat back. “How so?”
Nesrin didn’t hesitate. “From day one, Bastion has been a friend to those weaker than himself. He has always helped and protected those who were in need. His origins may be humble, but he has often acted more nobly than those who now hold his fate in their hands.”
The room bristled, like a sudden downpour hitting a tin roof.
Nesrin was one of the only people who could get away with saying such a thing, but it made him nervous. Bastion started to speak, to stop her before they turned their attention to her impending knighthood and called into question the legitimacy of her own journey, but he wasn’t quick enough.
“You were one who has benefited,” one of the minor lords said, his tone laced with scorn. “Without his help, you would not have gotten half so far in your own training.”
“So you acknowledge that you observed it yourself!” Nesrin exclaimed.
The man recoiled. “Bastion does not see rank. He regards all with equal respect–even when they don’t deserve it.
He runs towards danger when lesser men run away.
He put himself at great personal risk to bring word of the impending attack on Moonwatch–while he was on leave!
–and his courage during the siege steadied our reduced forces.
When we were outmaneuvered, it was he who found a solution, risking himself to give us time to counter. ”
Half the room nodded as she listed off his good deeds. Heat crept over the back of his neck, and Bastion couldn’t help but tug at his collar. Nesrin rarely spoke this much, and hearing her list off so many positive things made him self-conscious.
Valin spoke for the first time, the shadow of a sneer on his face. “And did you know he was Yvri at the time you knighted him?”
The question derailed any goodwill Nesrin’s word might have garnered.
The spymaster had stirred the pot, and now the council glanced covertly at Lyanthis.
His appointment as headmaster of the university had come with a great deal of resistance that had yet to fully wear off.
Perhaps they thought he and Bastion had schemed together.
Nesrin squared up to Valin, one of the few people he couldn’t make flinch.
“No.” She pitched her voice the same way her father did. The authority it held silenced the muttering elders, and Lord Kyrith regarded her with a twinkle in his eye. “But it would not have changed my decision. Being part Yvri does not negate the qualities that make him worthy of knighthood.”
“Honesty would have reflected on the Yvri more favorably,” Lyanthis said. Even seated, he managed to look down his nose at Bastion. “In fact, this sort of lie reflects poorly on any group Bastion may find himself aligned with."
He may as well have plainly stated that Bastion shouldn’t be given the title. Bastion said, “No one asked, so I did not lie.”
“But you withheld information, which is inherently deceptive,” Valin stated. Bastion’s lip curled. Rich of the spymaster to say such a thing. Beside him, Nesrin cleared her throat softly. He disregarded the warning.
“What would you have done?” Bastion challenged, spinning to address the room at large.
“When I came under Captain Hanniel’s tutelage, there were no Yvri among your ranks.
There was no alliance, no precedent before King Torvald saw fit to make Master Lyanthis head of the university.
” He looked at each man as he spoke, holding their gaze like fish on a hook.
A few buckled and looked away while others held his gaze defiantly.
“Until you’ve had every opportunity, every chance for something better taken away from you because of something about yourself you cannot control, do not judge me. ”
“We are here precisely to judge you,” Lord Valin drolled.
Bastion turned on him, his eyes narrowing. The corner of Valin’s mouth quirked, like he knew he’d hit a nerve. Bastion didn’t care, rage extinguishing the fear that had first accompanied him.
“Do you want to know what I ate?” he asked.
“Doubt and frustration. Do you want to know where I slept? Between fear of failure and forging into the unknown. You can ask me a thousand questions, and you still won’t scratch the surface of what it feels like to know that I left that island with nothing but my sword.
I could have abandoned my training! Become a sellsword!
What could I possibly gain by lying, and then coming back here to face you and your judgment? ”
No one spoke.
A range of emotions buzzed in the air, pressing on him. Mentally, Bastion waved them away as he scanned the room. An almost imperceptible smile twitched across Hanniel’s lips, and there was a sharp brightness in Nesrin’s eyes.
When he landed on Lyanthis, the fear had left him, and relief hit Bastion like a tidal wave. By evening, all the nobles and servants would know what he was. It felt good. Whatever came out of this meeting, he at least would not have to hide his lineage anymore.
“We are all imperfect,” Lawrence said. “Surely we are wise enough to weigh a lifetime of good deeds more heavily than one mistake.”
The tension dissipated as a few heads nodded in agreement, but others covered their mouths, either stroking their faces or whispering to their neighbor.
“We have much to discuss,” the king said. “Let us reconvene in an hour. In the meantime, Bastion, collect your Account.”
He stood, and a chorus of chairs sliding back followed. Bastion bowed with everyone else, glanced at Nesrin, and together, they exited the room.
In the hall, Endre rushed up to them. “What happened?”
He shoved nail-bitten fingers under his arms and searched their faces. It reminded Bastion of when they were boys, before the prince had learned to hide his emotions behind the mask of duty.
“The usual hot air,” Bastion said. “Nesrin can fill you in. I need to retrieve my Account.”
Council members began to filter out of the room. Endre looked between them and Bastion. “We’ll talk later?”
Bastion nodded.
He made his way back to the southern wing, a sense of finality nipping his heels as he wove through the halls. The last thing he expected this morning was to go from one emotional nose dive to another.
Near a window, a group of ladies loitered like butterflies, watching him curiously from behind feathered fans as he passed.
Further on, a few servants stepped aside, their hands full of bedding and silver trays of half-eaten breakfast. Where he had ignored the women, Bastion couldn’t help but glance at the staff.
They inclined their heads, and he returned the gesture.
When he reached the grand staircase, his heart jumped ever high with every step he took. Retrieving his Account meant seeing Ulla, but he hadn’t been able to shake off Lyanthis’s logic.
In the southern wing, he paused. He hadn’t seen which room Ulla had been given, so the only recourse was to check each one. He got halfway down the hall, his sharp knocks echoing like funeral bells, before he remembered she wouldn’t hear him.
Loss slid through him, like grime washed from a window, leaving a clarity that hurt.
A door opened, and Minato peered out.
“She’s not here,” he said.
Hope flickered in Bastion like an ember. “Do you know where she is?”
A frown creased the Yvri’s face. “If anyone would know, it would be you.”
“The bond–” Bastion swallowed, anticipating judgment “–is still.”
Minato rolled his eyes. The gesture was at once juvenile and arrogant.
“It’s a string to be strummed,” he explained. “It doesn’t have to always be her that calls.”
The words stung, but they were a balm as well.
“How?” Bastion asked.
Minato’s mouth pressed into a firm line, and he sighed. He reached a hand out and stabbed a finger at Bastion’s heart. The motion held less vehemence than when they’d spoken at Moonwatch.
“Your hearts are one,” Minato whispered. “Simply ask yours where she is, and hers will answer.”
A nervous tremor went through Bastion. Ever since he’d left Ulla in the twilight, he’d been afraid to speak to her, yet he couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing her again. He closed his eyes. In his mind, he said her name.
Ulla.
“It’s not there,” Minato said, startling him. He pointed at his own temple, then gently touched Bastion’s sternum with his fingertips. “It’s here.”
Bastion grit his teeth and nodded. He closed his eyes again and focused on his heart. How being with her was both peaceful and thrilling. How his soul resonated at the thought of her, as if recognizing a piece of himself he didn’t know was missing.
Bastion gasped. “She’s angry. But not with me.” He opened his eyes. Minato wore a derisive expression. “Well, not entirely with me.”
“But you know where to go?” the Yvri asked.
“I do. Thank you.”
He followed his heart to the Rainbow, the delicate white bridge that connected the palace and university. The waterfall roared by as he crossed, a thunderous curtain deafening all sound but the echo of Lyanthis’s words.
Sever the bond. Set her free.
They felt like a death sentence–and he was walking to the gallows.