Chapter 13
In the short time that we’ve been inside the library, it has once again begun snowing. It quickly dusts my furs and settles easily on the frigid earth, and after hooking one arm through Kyor’s, I plunge both of my hands into my pockets. The cold makes them ache more.
‘Toren, may I ask you some questions?’ I ask as we walk.
‘Of course, Princess. Anything.’
‘Please call me Rose.’
He bites down on his lower lip but nods. ‘Yes, sorry, Rose. Absolutely. What is it you’d like to know?’
‘It’s about the political situation here in Isthyr.’
I’d need Benny’s input to be sure, but I could have sworn the muscles along his jaw rippled slightly. ‘I see.’
‘What we want to know is whether or not Stefan’s going to try to slit Rose’s throat while she sleeps,’ Kyor interrupts. ‘You know, so he can get the throne back from her.’
I swivel around to glare at Kyor. At times, he has all the subtlety of a blade to the face.
Toren lets out an awkward chuckle.
‘No, no, that is not his way. Stefan would not harm the princess,’ Toren tries to assure us, but I can see Kyor isn’t convinced.
‘He wouldn’t be the first person willing to take a life or two for a throne,’ Kyor says grimly.
‘It is not the Issen way,’ Toren argues.
‘So you’re telling me he offered to help her out of the goodness of his heart?’ Kyor questions next, but I can already see that Toren’s reply is just going to send us ’round and ’round in circles, so I put an end to it.
‘What I actually wanted to talk to you about is the fact that there seems to be a slight divide among the people.’ I cast Kyor a quick, quelling look, telling him to remain silent, at least for a moment. ‘People who are perhaps pleased to see me here and others who are … well, less so.’
Toren bites down on his lower lip for a moment before he releases a slight sigh.
‘There is no point in hiding things from you, Princess. You are the rightful heir to the throne, and as such you will see these things for yourself. The fact that you are asking these questions tells me that you have already.’
‘So there is unrest?’ Kyor questions, almost eagerly.
‘Rebels?’ His jaw works, and I have a horrible feeling that he’s thinking of Benny.
The two have been perfectly amiable since we arrived, likely because the shock of everything we’ve gone through has helped to push thoughts of the rebellion to the backs of their minds, but in my experience, matters which you try to push down have the annoying habit of springing back up when you least expect or want them.
Toren shakes his head, his face crinkling slightly in confusion.
‘No. No rebellions,’ he says, sounding genuinely baffled. ‘Why would anyone rebel against Magnus?’
‘Are you sure?’ Kyor says with bitterness, in a way that’s at odds with his usual tone. ‘They could be working right under your nose and you’d never even know.’
‘I assure you, there are no rebels,’ Toren continues, not rising to Kyor’s bait, ‘but people are open about their concerns in Isthyr, and there are those who do not appreciate how Magnus has ruled this kingdom thus far.’
‘You mean because he invited Korvane in?’ I ask. It seems like an obvious reason. ‘Do they blame him?’
Kyor sucks in a breath through his teeth. ‘We still don’t know for certain that they’re telling the truth about how that played out,’ he says in an aside to me. ‘For all we know, it could just be a bunch of lies made up to ignite the fury of their armies.’
I remain silent. I looked at Caz last night while the king was telling us the story of Korvane’s visit, and so I know that every word he and Uzra spoke was the truth.
But Kyor’s response shows he’s not ready to hear that.
And while I’d usually give him room to wrestle with his own thoughts, this isn’t a battle that needs fighting.
Some things exist beyond shades of grey.
Some things are simply right or wrong. The sooner Kyor accepts which side his father stands on, the better it will be for everyone, including Kyor.
‘There is a growing desire for … more … among some people of Isthyr.’ Toren speaks with a notable disdain that cuts through my thoughts.
‘More?’ I question.
He nods. ‘You heard Brida at dinner last night. She thinks that everyone beyond the Coltan mountains is living a life of luxury, dining on rich platters of fruit and creams and endless opportunity. They do not see what we have here as a sanctuary,’ Toren says, gesturing at the peaceful streets and glistening buildings around us, the latter’s glass walls creating a kaleidoscope of light that dances through the air.
‘They think that Magnus should be fighting not just to hold our territory, but to claim more.’
‘And you disagree?’ Kyor questions.
Toren turns to look at me, as if wanting my full attention before continuing.
‘We live a good life here,’ he says, ‘a life of simpler luxuries than those you can dine upon or wear. Health. Friends. Knowledge shared among all and assurances that no person will ever be lost or alone. That no death will be meaningless in the eyes of the kingdom or the king himself. Those who are not satisfied with our life here – a life of peace, of harmony – will always want for more.’
The words cut deeper than expected, and they remind me so much of what Zelle said back at the very beginning of the Retterheld, when he was asked why he didn’t enter.
He said that some people can’t find happiness with what they have, and thus they are unlikely to ever find it, even with a gift from the Goddess herself.
‘Besides,’ Toren continues, ‘the sheer number of deaths it would take to achieve such a feat…’ He shakes his head. ‘No. It is not just the king who wouldn’t be able to bear it, but much of the Issen people. Magnus is right about where he stands. I do not doubt it.’
The idea that Magnus himself feels every death draws my mind to the lines Kyor carved into the battle yard wall in Wrohelm, marking every death he had a hand in.
More than ever, it’s clear to me that the prince has the capacity to become a fair ruler, just like Magnus, if only we could find a way to stop Korvane from continuing to poison him, binding him with vows.
‘They think I’ll continue with Magnus’s manner of ruling?’ I say to Toren.
‘Exactly.’
‘And Stefan?’ Kyor returns to where we started. ‘Where does he stand?’
‘Really?’ I turn on him. ‘You’re still going on about him?’
‘Yes,’ Kyor snaps, his icy eyes flashing. ‘Because if the way of life he wants is fundamentally different to Magnus’s, if he belongs to the other faction, then there is even more reason why he would wish to be rid of you.’
‘If I wanted the throne—’ I begin for what already feels like the hundredth time.
‘No, the prince is right to express his concerns,’ Toren interrupts.
‘Your lack of desire for power is perhaps the very reason you should be trusted with it. And as for Stefan … he guards his thoughts closely on this issue. It is difficult to know where he stands.’ He pauses for a moment before continuing.
‘He and Magnus are close. The king obviously thought him a suitable candidate to be his successor or he would never have put him forward to enter the Veil.’
‘But?’ I ask, though there seems no reason not to say the word. I can hear it hanging there heavily enough.
‘But … there is no doubt that we have been seeing a definite closeness grow between Stefan and General Ranveeg of late.’
I can’t help but suck in my cheeks at the mention of her name. ‘And I’m guessing it’s pretty obvious which side Ranveeg falls on in this?’
‘Oh yes.’ Toren nods. ‘She is one of the most vocal in her frustration at how the king handles situations. I have even heard rumours that her daughter, Brida, and Stefan are betrothed.’
Kyor blows out his breath. ‘So basically, putting Stefan on the throne would be putting Ranveeg on the throne and—’
‘And potentially destroying the peaceful way in which the Issen have lived for millennia. Yes,’ Toren finishes.
‘Ranveeg is no longer content to merely rebuff the Morathkian soldiers. She wants to raid, to invade, and to take the fight to Korvane’s door.
’ He looks at Kyor as he speaks, as if worried about his reaction, but Kyor gives him none.
‘Yet you still don’t think we should be worried about them trying to kill Rose?
’ Kyor looks at me as he says this, a definite I-told-you-so in his tone.
Instead of being annoyed, I find myself appreciating that upon learning that an Issen faction wants to invade Morathka, his primary concern is still me.
Toren shakes his head firmly. ‘If any of them were found to be responsible for the death of another Issen, let alone a member of the royal family, they would be stripped of their magic, cast out, and banished from Isthyr forever. I promise you, Princess, you are safe here. None would risk that. And when you complete the other stages of the Veil, I know you will become the ruler the Issen deserve.’ He beams at me.
My throat tightens from the warmth of his tone, but also from the guilt.
It’s clear how much Toren respects my grandfather and his way of life, not to mention how strongly he disagrees with Ranveeg and her followers, but I will never be the leader he wants.
Ideologies shift when kingdoms change rulers – it’s the way of the world – though now does not seem like the time to point that out.
Still, there is one more question I find myself wanting to ask Toren before I speak with my grandfather.
‘Toren, when we came through the Pyrrhic, the guards there were all wearing grey, but since we have been in the city, I’ve seen guards wearing nothing but white. As you are now. Is there a reason for your different coloured robes here in Isthyr?’
The warmth of Toren’s smile grows further still.
‘I am surprised you noticed, Princess,’ he says. ‘But yes, our grey robes are a sign of respect.’
‘To the Gods?’ I assume.