Page 85 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

Pressing my eyes shut, I try to avoid the answer. And fail. The bitter truth pierces me, sharper than any blade.

I have no other choice.

Vorr’s murderer has backed us into a wall. If we wait to act, he’ll incite a war. If we don’t wait to act, we lose precious time searching for him in all the wrong places.

We’re damned either way.

Fear we’ll fail—fear I’m sending us straight to our deaths—rises over me, all-consuming, swallowing me whole. Tears prick my eyes, the rush of emotion flooding my senses, desperate for an escape. It disrupts my composure, wearing down the careful calm I’ve worked so desperately to build over the years.

All of it falls away, and like a dam, I break.

“Lymseia,” Asheros murmurs softly, gently cupping my face with both hands. “Talk to me, my Bladesinger.” His thumbs caress my cheeks in circular motions. “What are you feeling?”

“I—I can’t…” I pant through sobs, hating myself for losing control like this.

His voice is even. Patient. “You can’t what, love?”

“I can’t do this,” I mutter, over and over. “I can’t—I can’t let anything happen to you. To any of you.”

“You won’t.” He sounds so sure, so genuine in his belief.

“You can’t know that,” I say, squeezing my eyes shut.

He touches his forehead to mine. “But I know you.”

My tears come more violently now. Shaking my head, I pull away from him, taking several steps back. “My mother always wanted me to be like her. To be wise and loved by our people. To be a symbol of hope for all the Steel Court and what our family stood for.” I clench my fists, digging them into my thighs. “Ever since I was a child, I’ve been failing at that.”

Asheros just watches me, brows pinched. His eyes intent on mine.

“My sister, Vestella, is a born leader.” I look away. “She excelled in history, mathematics, and politics when we were children, and I didn’t. She’s the picture of grace, of elegance, and I’m too headstrong, too rough around the edges. She’s truly meant to be Head of House one day—it’s who she is. But me?” I pause. “That’s not who I am.”

Slowly, Asheros closes the gap between us. He takes my hands. His grip is light, but firm, as if to say, “I’m right here.”

And gods above, I need that strength to keep going.

To admit my own failures. To him. To myself.

“Everything that made my mother disappointed in me—my lack of refinement, my blunt mouth, my refusal to accept injustice—became a strength the moment I joined the Guard.” Swallowing, I do my best to clear the lump from my throat. “My somewhat brutish exterior made the male trainees respect me, made them see me as one of them. When I became captain, my bluntness seamlessly became command, and then, an unquestionable show of authority.”

Asheros’s crystal-blue eyes deepen, so vast that not even the ocean itself can compare.

My voice wavers, but I don’t stop. “I’m a warrior. That is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been, ever since the days of fighting pretend battles with my sister in the woods when we were children.” I press my lips together to fight the fresh tears gathering in my eyes, though I’m not successful. “I’m not—” I choke on my words. “I’m not enough. I can’t—I can’t do what they need me to do. What the gods-damn realm needs me to do.”

Asheros’s lips part, but I continue before he can speak.

“That’s why… That’s why I don’t talk about home much. Because it brings up things I’d much rather forget.”

He’s silent for a long while. Just looking at me. Holding my hands. Pulling me closer, until our noses nearly touch.

“You are more than enough, Lymseia, my Bladesinger. And you always—always—will be.” Brushing loose hair out of my eyes, he forces me to look at him. “I will spend the rest of my days proving to you that you can do anything and everything you set your mind to.”

Blinking away moisture, I lock my gaze with his. “I have no army. No guards to command. This threat… I fear it’s something I won’t walk away from on my own.”

“You have me,” he murmurs. Intertwining our fingers, he presses our hands to his chest. “You have the six of us.”

“And if we’re not enough?” I bite my lower lip to stop it from trembling. “What then?”

He clutches my hands tighter, a warm look pooling in his diamond irises.

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