Chapter 40
The quiet of Isthyr takes on an entirely new weight as my throat thickens with fear. I wait for Kyor to explode at the suggestion … but he doesn’t.
And slowly that fear fades away to hope.
‘Perhaps this is something we should move inside to talk about,’ Caz finally says, apprehension in her eyes as she scans between the two men.
For the entirety of our stay in Isthyr, we have carefully avoided any talk of the rebellion, skirting around it like a v?tte hule for fear that one wrong step may cause us to tumble down under the ground and be lost forever.
Or, more precisely, one wrong word might cause Kyor to regret his decision to spare Benny’s life and finish the job.
Unable to bear the silence anymore, I step towards Kyor.
‘You’re right,’ he replies to Caz. ‘Yes. Let’s go inside.’
There’s no conversation, no worried exchange of glances, just static that may or may not be coming from the prince as we head towards the palace, though even with such tension wrapping its tendrils around us, I can’t help but reach out and take Kyor’s hand.
‘Are you okay?’ I whisper.
His head moves but I can’t tell if it’s a nod or a shake.
His eyes remain forward the entire time.
Then again, what response did I expect? Benny just told him that if he wants to right the issues in Morathka, he needs to join the rebellion.
And that means going against his father.
Rebelling against the crown. Not to mention siding with the people who killed Commander Zelle.
I’m also all too aware that this is the only option, the only future, in which Kyor and I end up together.
No matter what the others think, Korvane won’t ever accept me, not even if I’m an Issen princess.
Being the gifted wasn’t enough, so nothing will ever be enough.
In his eyes, my family is responsible for his wife and youngest son’s death.
Even if Kyor is honest and comes clean about the fact that my mother didn’t kill the queen, I can’t see Korvane accepting the truth. Accepting me.
But if Kyor is on the throne instead of his father…
Gods. It makes my heart race to think of it. To imagine – even for a moment – a future where Kyor and I can be together. Forever.
I intertwine my fingers with Kyor’s, and I wonder if he can feel my trembling.
Inside the palace, Kyor walks into the nearest empty room – a study of sorts – his forceful stride enough to imply the rest of us are to follow.
The study walls are lined with shelves and books, and several seats are arranged around a simple wooden table.
Even once we’re all in and the door is closed, no one makes a move to sit.
Instead, we remain on our feet, gazes fixed on Kyor, who gently releases my hand and looks at Benny as if he’s the only person in the room.
‘How would it work?’ Kyor’s jaw works even as he speaks. ‘I don’t want people to die. I can’t agree to that.’
‘That’s not what the rebels want either,’ Benny replies as he takes one of the rounded seats.
For a heartbeat, unease curls through me as I wonder which rebels Benny means.
The expansionists? No. Korvane’s rebels, of course.
Yet I can’t stop my mind drifting back to Ranveeg and Stefan, and the possibility that their conversations have continued, carried on in hushed whispers and hidden corners where secrets take root.
Caz hesitates before taking a seat next to Benny, but for Ruben and me, the deliberation is even greater.
From what I can tell, Ruben has always been on the outskirts of the rebellion.
It was his connection to me – and my desire to get food out to the slums – that allowed them to get into the ball where Zelle died, and from the way he’s hovering now, the deaths still weigh heavily on him – not of the commander he didn’t know, but of his friends.
And while I can tell from his eyes that he wants to side with the man he loves, he also wants to side with the option that offers the least bloodshed.
Which is why, I suspect, he chooses a wooden chair closest to the large desk at the edge of the room.
I take a seat opposite Benny and Caz. Which leaves only Kyor on his feet.
‘We want people to live,’ Benny continues. ‘All people, with some degree of fairness. And that’s the issue. That isn’t happening with your father on the throne.’
Kyor’s cheekbones sharpen to daggers as he attempts to control the anger and conflict that I’m certain are rushing through his veins.
‘I know he has his flaws. Fuck, I know that better than most. But he’s the king.
’ He shakes his head and begins to pace.
‘Maybe if we could just show him how bad it is in the slums?’ Kyor suggests.
‘Maybe that would be enough to convince him that there’s another way to rule that’s better for all his people?
Convince him to leave a legacy he can be proud of.
He was young when he came here and he’s become stuck in his ways, but every king wants a great legacy, right? ’
The hope in his voice feels like shards of glass between my lungs.
Even now, he’s seeking redemption for a man who tortured him.
But while to us, Korvane is nothing more than a monster, his blood flows in Kyor’s veins.
How hard would I fight the truth if I discovered I was the offspring of such an abominable being? With my whole being, I suspect.
The Veil that sits on the sacred lands is not the only one that has to be conquered on this journey. There’s also the one that has blanketed Kyor’s eyes and heart, shrouding him from a truth he has fought so hard not to face.
‘Korvane has already had decades to change, and instead it’s only got worse,’ Benny says with a rumble of genuine remorse and sympathy.
‘A lot worse. And you don’t need to take my word for this.
I’ve got evidence. Kyor, my friend, you have to know …
nothing will change while he is on the throne.
For the good of the kingdom, you have to take it. ’
My pulse rockets though I try to fight it.
This is treason. Pure and simple.
The Kyor of only a few moons ago would’ve struck Benny down without a second thought for saying such a thing. Yet here he is, genuinely contemplating the question.
‘I can’t kill him,’ Kyor says eventually. ‘I know all the things he’s done. I know. But I just can’t. That’s not who I am. For all his faults, he’s still my father.’
‘You don’t need to kill him.’ Benny pounces on the sliver of hope.
‘A bloodless coup is all we want. He just needs to be overthrown. Overthrown and locked up where he can’t hurt anyone else.
We can put cushions and caviar in his cell for all I care, as long as he’s no longer in charge of the kingdom.
And it would put an end to the war with the Issen, too, right?
Because we both know that isn’t going to happen while your father is on the throne. ’
Once again, Kyor paces back and forth, his footsteps muted by the simple patterned rug beneath his feet and his throat constantly moving as he swallows down the bitter truth.
Finally, he stops. ‘It won’t be easy. We have to be realistic. A bloodless coup is a pipe dream. There will be bloodshed. Some of his knights are fanatically loyal, as are their wolves. There will be blood on my hands, at the beginning at least.’
‘Maybe,’ Benny agrees as he sits back in the chair, ‘but very little compared with the lives you’ll save.’
And that is the crux of the matter.
Kyor’s chest rises and falls as he takes several deep breaths. Slowly, he moves over and perches on the edge of a chair.
‘Where do we start?’ he asks eventually. ‘What do I need to know?’
My pulse stutters, then kicks hard. Is this really going to happen?
I can’t help but imagine Kyor facing down his bully of a father.
Kyor with his lightning and his father with his flames.
In my mind’s eye, the High Hold burns, white marble glowing orange beneath a storm-black sky, its gleaming towers wreathed in flames and smoke coils around the palace spires, turning them into dark spears that stab at the heavens.
The Gods’ citadels, once radiant with residual magic, crumbling beneath fire and thunder.
But is it a daydream? Or something more? Something prophetic from the Gods?
I swallow hard as a cold prickle spreads beneath my skin, sharp and sudden, like frost creeping through my veins. But I know I can control it. I have to – I’m in the middle of Isthyr.
I take a breath and look around at the group.
When I refocus, Kyor has moved from his chair and is kneeling beside me, looking up at me with concern. ‘Are you okay?’
He’s in the middle of possibly the most important discussion of his life, yet he looks at me like this. Like I’m the most important thing in the room. But I can’t distract him now. This fateful moment with Benny deserves his full attention.
‘Fine,’ I say honestly, the magic already calming. ‘I just think this is a conversation for you and Benny to have without an audience. Maybe I’ll go to the vandsang and prepare for tomorrow.’
Ruben stands. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I can come too,’ Caz says, leaping to her feet, but Kyor twists around to face the scribe.
‘Can you stay?’ he asks her. He looks back at Benny. ‘I do trust you. I do. But there can be no doubt with this. None. I need—’
‘It’s okay, buddy,’ Benny says softly. ‘I get it.’
Caz looks at me and I nod, grateful. Ruben and I owe her one.
Outside, Fen is ready, having felt my concern. Are you all right now?
Yes, thank you. But can you take us back to the sacred lands? I say to Fen as I climb onto his back.
‘Will Fen let me ride him?’ Ruben asks.
I relay the question and Fen gives his permission, though grudgingly. He mutters something about mules, but the comments are mostly for show because I know he likes Ruben.
‘He will.’