Chapter 45
Benny has already agreed to follow the Issen rites, although from what Kyor tells me, it was Loch who gently pressed him to accept such an offer. Pointing out, like Caz did for me, that it’s not only an honour, but also the simplest solution we have.
Magnus told us last night that he will watch over Ruben’s body himself, preparing him for the ritual to come, and that we are to head to the sacred lands just before dawn.
Caz is the one who explains that in the Issen tradition, it’s white that is worn on such an occasion, and so, once I’m dressed in what I hope is appropriate attire, I lie on the bed, waiting for the stars to fade.
‘It’ll be all right,’ Kyor says from where he’s lying next to me.
‘Will it?’ I ask, my eyes catching on the black markings on my hands.
‘I don’t really know,’ he says truthfully. ‘But we have to believe it will be, don’t we?’ A pause fills the air before he rolls over to look at me. ‘You know, I was thinking about that first fistfight we had. Ruben and I. You remember?’
‘Of course I remember. I was worried you were going to kill him!’
‘I don’t think I could have, even if I’d wanted to. I couldn’t believe how hard he fucking hit me. And I was so mad. There he was, this fucking slum rat, coming for my woman and beating the shit out of me.’
His eyes shimmer with tears as he laughs.
For so long those words – slum rat – have been served with such animosity, so much judgement and hatred.
Like the way Commander Holden used to refer to me as a cockroach during the Retterheld.
But there’s no animosity in how Kyor says it now. No, there’s nothing but affection.
‘Gods, if he’d had training, proper training as a kid, I don’t think I’d have stood a chance.
’ His lips press tightly together and I suspect, regardless of whether it’s true or not, he’s wishing he’d told him as much.
Not that Ruben would’ve believed him. He was far too humble for that. He never truly saw his own worth.
‘Fen said he would have bonded with a wolf,’ I murmur, ‘if he’d ever tried.’
Kyor nods. ‘Yeah, of that I have no doubt. He would have made an amazing knight.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, rolling over and teasing the prince’s hair with my fingers.
‘For what?’
‘For seeing him as a friend. Eventually. For understanding why he meant so much to me.’
Kyor’s nod is slow. Heavy. ‘I wish I’d seen him as a friend sooner. I’ve never known a power that made more sense than Ru’s. Warmth. That was him. Pure warmth, even when people didn’t always deserve it.’ As he draws in a breath, I can’t help but wonder what memory he’s mired in.
‘Not once did he look at me and see my title. He just saw me.’ Kyor laughs a little. ‘He didn’t always like what he saw, but he never shrank from it. You know, after he realised the way it was between us, he came to me, told me to pull my head out of my arse and do right by you.’
My heart beats an extra pulse as I look deep into Kyor’s eyes, wishing I could be gifted that memory, another moment of my friend’s life. ‘I never knew that.’
‘Yeah. Of course I promised I would spend my whole life making you happy. Now I just have to try to do that, to make him proud, right?’
There’s an unspoken consequence in his words and a deep heaviness, and so I remain quiet, waiting for him to find the strength to share the words building in him.
‘I think Benny is right,’ he eventually says, his eyes not yet able to meet mine. ‘I think I have to do this. I have to join the rebels and overthrow my father. It might not free me entirely – absolve me entirely – but it’ll help. I know it will. And it’s the right thing to do.’
His voiced desire for absolution for his father’s crimes causes a throbbing to bleed through me. Without words, I lay my head on his chest, allowing his warmth to consume me.
Kyor and treason.
It’s something I never thought I would see, but it’s here.
I cannot even begin to envision what it means for him, for us. But I know that his decision changes everything.
Just like that, we’re on a whole other path.
My mind shifts to William. Caz is the only person I have left to ask, but I know what her answer will be, just like Ruben and Benny. They only took the vow for me. They trusted me. Now I need to offer that to Kyor. And I will. Soon.
We lie embracing in the stillness of the waning darkness until there’s a knock at the door.
Knowing exactly what is waiting for us, I offer Kyor one last look as we stand, grab our furs, and cross to the door.
Loch is standing there.
‘I can hear them,’ he says. ‘Moving to the sacred lands. It’s time.’
‘Benny?’ I ask.
‘He’s waiting downstairs. The others have already gathered.’
Just as Loch said, Thessa and Caz are standing next to Benny, and as I stare at the group I’m struck by a sense of incompletion. As if we shouldn’t be moving yet. Not until we’re all together. But this is it now. This is us.
Forever incomplete.
I have few expectations of what a hero’s funeral will encompass.
How many people will attend, for instance?
In my mind, I expect a reasonably sized gathering of those people we have spoken to during our time here.
Tove, Toren, and some of the other Issen, probably.
The library staff and maybe a couple from the kitchen, too.
Uzra and some of his knights. Ylva, perhaps, and maybe even Brida after our previous conversation, though that conversation may also be the very reason she will stay away.
Still, I am anticipating a group of perhaps twenty or thirty.
What I do not expect is hundreds and hundreds of people all streaming towards the sacred lands, readying for dawn.
Readying to pay their respects to Ruben.
‘Gods. You met him, you loved him. It was that simple,’ Benny whispers in his broken voice.
My lungs burn with pride and pain as I step forward and take Benny’s left hand. Caz takes the other.
Then, in a motion that is even more surprising than the numbers gathered here, Thessa moves and links her arm through Loch’s.
The only member of our group standing alone is Kyor, but when I meet his eye, he offers me a small nod.
He’s okay. And he’s not really alone; he has the wolves at his side.
This is the way we need it, and he’s okay with that.
The moment I step onto the bridge, memories of walking with Ruben on the sacred lands stir in my mind.
He gave me the light. He is the reason I found my power. Him and his mother, Noleen. Without them, I wouldn’t have created my wolf, still not melted despite the sun’s power. And I likely wouldn’t have found the power to fight against the jotnar.
And with it, I chose to save Benny.
And now here we are at Ruben’s funeral.
It’s not fair. None of this is fair. Guilt writhes in my stomach like a venomous snake.
The Issen are gathering further west than I’ve been before.
I assumed, apparently na?vely, that the rites would take place near the caves, but clearly that is not the case, and as we approach the ever-increasing group, I notice they’re standing in a circle.
A complete circle, which parts and expands ever so slightly to make room for each new person who arrives.
When we reach the large ring, the Issen step back, allowing us room to slip in and see the body in the centre.
Ruben’s body.
There’s no colour to the cheeks, no smile on his lips. No warmth. That alone feels like a sin.
Ruben should never be cold.
Tears lodge in my throat as I stare at him, my thoughts involuntarily returning to my nights in the slums, when I would wake up shivering and he would wordlessly tug me closer.
Enveloping me. Warming me. What I wouldn’t give to hold him one more time.
To wrap my arms around him and be the one to bring his body warmth.
My limbs ache, burning with a desire to run to him.
To hold him one last time. But this is not about me. Nor even about Benny. It’s about Ruben.
It’s only when Kyor brushes my shoulder that I notice Magnus is approaching us.
Caz is the first to find her voice. ‘Thank you for this. We are grateful for the honour.’
‘Having Ruben here was a great honour for our people too,’ he replies.
‘And a great example of how similar we all are. Issen, Morathkian, Sanning … we love the same. Laugh the same. Ruben helped many of my people see that. You all have. Hard to hate the savages of Morathka when one of the examples given is a man who quite literally warms us all. And provided such wonderful cakes.’
A shudder rattles in my chest, but I do my best to hold it in. I can’t break now. Not before we’ve even started.
‘We do not use words at our ceremonies,’ Magnus continues. ‘All the words we have exchanged with the departed are done. Every breath we have shared with them, gone. So, for the next part, we stay silent, as we return his body to the Gods.’
I feel the others nodding with me, a silent agreement to abide by their ways.
Silence, just like the Sunken Temple, but here there is no threat of disfiguration should we break it, like poor Coulter, his lips stitched shut. That I ever considered the Issen the barbaric ones… It shames me.
With a soft smile, Magnus steps back towards the centre of the circle and Ruben’s body.
Then the king glances at the sky. Only the brightest stars remain, and even they are dissolving into the waning night.
Whether it’s magic, or pain, or the wolves behind me serving as shelter, I don’t know, but the cold I should feel is absent.
And our breaths leave no trace as we huddle together, not for warmth but for comfort.
It seems as if we were among the last to arrive, and a few minutes later, the circle is stationary, stretched as wide as it needs to go.
And yet Magnus does not move, still staring at the sky.
Some other Issen are doing the same, and not for the first time I wish I’d asked Caz more about the rites. About what we’re expected to do.