Rhen shakes his head and lifts his glass of wine. “Noah spoke for him and said he should be cared for, and so he has been.” He pauses. “Dustan said he tried to save you.”
“He’s lucky Dustan didn’t slice him in two.”
“He is not no one, though. Not if he’d risk his life.” Rhen raises his eyebrows. “A friend?”
He is too savvy. I watched guardsmen lie to the king and get away with it, but Rhen could never be fooled.
“Yes,” I concede. “A friend.”
“He was sworn to this Worwick?”
I try to figure out where these questions will lead, and fail. “Yes. For his family’s debts.”
“I will have coins sent to buy his freedom.”
The money means nothing to Rhen, but the effort behind it means something to me. He does nothing without purpose, and I wonder if this is a peace offering of sorts.
Then again, this could just as easily be a ploy to regain my trust so it can be used against me.
“A bag of the king’s silver?” I snort, to cover my surprise. “Worwick will spin a better story out of that than a stable hand’s freedom.”
Rhen smiles. “Truly? Tell me.”
I hesitate, then take a breath and tell him about Worwick and the tourney. I expect questions about why I chose to work in the stables instead of the arena, but Rhen does not press. I tell him about Jodi and the tavern, and Tycho and his love for swordplay. Mention of Jodi and Tycho leads to the events in the tavern, when the blacksmith was killed, and how that led to Tycho fearing for my life when I faced Dustan in the alley.
“A good friend, then,” says Rhen.
“The nights were long,” I say to him. “The days tedious. Often I was his only company, and he mine.”
Rhen loses his smile, and I realize what I’ve said.
I take a drink of water and look away. “Surely he must have your sympathy.”
That makes him laugh. “Indeed.” He pauses. “Why did you leave?”
He is not demanding, the way he was before. This is a true question.
The breath slowly eases out of my lungs. “I believe you know why.”
“Why will you not reveal the identity of the heir?”
There is no answer I can give him that would be satisfactory. No truth that would not ensure my death.
When I say nothing, he picks up his wine. The jewel-red liquid glows from the firelight. In one quick swallow, he drains the glass.
I know this look on his face. He is cunning. Thoughtful. Strategic. He’ll figure it out himself if I’m not careful. The only thing working in my favor is that he expects the heir to have magic, and I’ve never shown any evidence of having any myself.
If I’d been able to use magic, I would have used it against Lilith long before now.
I feel the weight of Rhen’s eyes on me. “This stable boy is too young,” he muses.
I say nothing and slice through a glistening vegetable.
“Someone else at this tourney?” he says.
“If I was willing to give up command to keep this secret,” I say, “you will not easily guess it.”
“I could send guardsmen to Rillisk,” he says. “I can have them all questioned.”
“Would this be before or after you sent coins to free Tycho?”
He frowns. “Do not play with me.”
“I have seen the fate of other men you intended to question. I have seen the way your orders have been carried out. No one at the tourney knows anything. Do not condemn them to death because you fear your throne may be taken from you.”
His gaze sharpens. “You will remember your place here, Grey.”
“You should remember yours, friend. You are the crown prince. This heir is no threat to you.”
Rhen draws himself up, and I see the first flash of anger in his eyes. “Even rumor of this heir is a threat to me. To all of Emberfall. Do you realize there are nobles who are questioning the very legitimacy of my rule? That there are whispers of Grand Marshals who no longer feel the need to acknowledge the Crown?”
Yes. I have heard these rumors.
“And what will you do?” I say. “What will you do with this heir, if you find him?”
“You know what I will do.”
I swallow. Yes. I know what he will do. “He is no threat to you,” I say again.
He slams his hand down on the table between us. “You cannot know that!”
“Yes—”
“You cannot!” The words explode out of him, but he breaks off and runs a hand across his jaw. He has to take a breath to steady himself, which is something I’ve never seen him do. “Lilith nearly killed Harper. She spent an eternity torturing us. If this man has magic, if he is of the same ilk as the enchantress … how can you protect him, Grey? How?”
I go still. All of a sudden, I understand his desperation to find the heir. This has nothing to do with his throne at all. Not really.
Rhen is afraid. Not of losing his throne, but afraid of the magic. Of what it might do to him, and to Emberfall.
I am the heir, Rhen. I am your brother. You have nothing to fear from me.
The words wait on my tongue, but they stall there. I watched the enforcers put a blade into Riley. I’ve heard the rumors from other towns. Once, I would have laid down my life to protect him, but this suddenly feels different. I am not under oath. I know I am no threat to him. I don’t want to die to prove it.
Rhen said he lost my trust, but I don’t think that’s true. I trust him the same way I always did: to put the safety of his kingdom ahead of everything else. If he believes magic is a threat to Emberfall, our shared history—even our shared blood—would not keep me safe.
“To keep this a secret is akin to treason,” Rhen says.
I say nothing. There is no path here. None.
His cheeks are flushed with anger. “Grey. Do not make me force answers from you.”
“We spent season after season allowing Lilith to torture us both,” I say. “Do you truly think you can?”
“I will do whatever is necessary to protect Emberfall.”
“As will I,” I say. “I keep this secret to protect you.”
“You keep it to protect yourself.”
“That too.”
He draws himself up, his eyes alight with fury. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Rhen so angry, and it’s almost chilling to have it directed at me. Worse, I can now clearly see the fear buried beneath it. It pulls at cords in my chest. Season after season, he stood up to Lilith without fear. Often to spare me her torments.
“I swear to you,” I say quietly. “You have nothing to fear from this man and his magic.”
For a moment, I worry his fear is too potent. But then he sits back in his chair and sighs. The fury melts away. “I will grant you a day, Grey.”
“A day?”
“Yes. I will grant you a day to consider your stance, at your liberty, provided you remain on the grounds of Ironrose.”
“This is not a kindness. You believe I will reveal something to you. I will not.”
“Shall I call for Dustan to begin severing limbs right now, then?”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He smiles, but it’s more regretful than amused. “I’ve missed you, Grey.”