Page 95 of A Shattered Kingdom of Steel

Ceren’s lessons run through my mind in circles.

“I will not deny that your duty as a member of the Guard is to the crown, first and foremost,” she’d told my batch of recruits. “But at its core, your duty is to the people. The weak, the defenseless, the hopeless. You are their protectors. So long as your heart beats, you will raise your sword in their defense—even if it means your own life must be forfeited.”

Her most important lesson. The oath I’d sworn to live by when I’d been officially admitted into the Guard. And the very same vow I’d just broken.

Anguish floods my chest, threatening to drown me within it.

“We stop here,” Asheros says, glancing up at the midnight sky. Moonlight shines overhead, casting a crestfallen glow over us.

The others, whether from exhaustion or sorrow, merely nod and say nothing. I wait for Asheros to dismount and ignore his outstretched hand when I slip from the saddle. Curling his fingers into a fist, he presses his mouth into a fine line but doesn’t speak. Instead, he leads our mount to Savell, who secures the unsaddled horses to a tree trunk.

Kheldryn and Gryska begin to construct the tents while Ronan and I busy ourselves with unloading supplies from the packs. Once Asheros builds the fire, all of us but him sit on the forest floor, consuming our rations—bread and aged cheese—in silence.

Now, more than ever, I miss Orim’s cooking. And his bright smile. He’d know just what to say to lift our spirits. When I finish my meal, I stand and make my way to Asheros’s and my tent. He stands by the tent’s flap, barring my way inside.

“You’re angry,” he says quietly.

“Oh, really?” Sarcasm drips from my voice, rough in its harshness. “I wonder what could have possibly given you that impression?”

Asheros’s fair brows furrow, his mouth taut with frustration. He reaches for the tent’s flap and holds it open to let me through.

I storm inside, my arms crossed.

He stares at me for a moment, tension working at his jaw. Though we don’t need it, Asheros lights a lantern and sets it down in the center, between our bedrolls. In the privacy of our tent, he approaches me, stopping when he’s less than an arm’s length away.

I glower at him.

He doesn’t hide the effects of the struggle taking place behind his expression. Wiping his face, he sighs. “I understand your anger.”

“Why did you do it?” I demand. “I’m not weak, Asheros. I can hold my own, and I can damn well make my own choices.”

“I know you can.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Believe me, I do.”

I sense a “but” coming. “Well?”

“I’m not going to apologize because I would do it all over again.” His voice is raw with conviction. “If I had to choose between saving your life, or saving theirs, I will always, always, pick you.”

“That’s your problem,” I tell him, my voice clipped. “Not mine.”

Exasperated, he shakes his head. “You are so gods-damned stubborn. Can you not see what I’m trying to tell you?”

“If I’m the one having trouble understanding,” I snap, “then perhaps you should be more clear.”

“Then let me make myself abundantly clear,” Asheros seethes, his eyes wild. The rush of his anger makes the pale blue of his gaze rise to a whole other level of intensity. “I. Cannot. Lose. You.”

“What about our mission?” I say, reacting instantly without processing the weight of his confession. “Have you forgotten about protecting the realm? I’m nothing in the face of the greater good.”

“Gods-damn it, Lymseia,” he hisses. “Don’t you understand? The fucking realm isn’t what I’m concerned about.”

I stare into his eyes, searching for the answers I so desperately seek. Our whole alliance has been centered around one goal—preventing a war between the Courts. Stopping all the bloodshed before it starts. And now, he stands before me, saying that he doesn’t care about the realm?

“Why?”

“Because I love you,” he exclaims, his voice rising. It’s as if he’s reached a boiling point, and everything he’s held inside for so long is finally breaking free. “That’s why. And if keeping you safe means I have to damn the realm to hell, then so be it. Nothing, and I mean nothing, matters to me but keeping you breathing.”

The air feels as if it’s been stolen from my lungs, and I almost forget to breathe. Everything hinges on this moment. On what he’ll say next. I can’t spare an ounce of energy to do anything that might shift my focus away from him.

Closing the distance between us, Asheros steps forward and takes my face between his hands. Every trace of his anger and frustration and inner struggle fade from his voice.

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