Page 29 of The Uncrowned Prince

The owner of the Hook and Trident was a man of average height, with a bald head and a neatly trimmed gray beard. He was weathered and scarred enough that Vaniell suspected he’d once been a mercenary, but he never talked about his past. He kept his tavern clean and quiet, threw out anyone who caused trouble, and generally exuded an air of calmness and competence that Vaniell found restful.

“You look like you could use sleep more than ale,” Jarek observed, never one to pull a punch.

“And food more than sleep,” Vaniell replied agreeably. “Just dinner for now, and a bottle of whatever wine won’t kill us.”

“Then sit where you like. I’ll have it out shortly. And keep an eye on the three by the door.”

Vaniell darted a glance in that direction. A trio of city guards in their off-duty tunics were hovering over their cups, looking morose and belligerent—precisely the combination that could easily result in a fight.

“Noted.” He flicked a salute at Jarek and led Karreya to one of the booths along the wall, one with a round table that he could sit behind and command a decent view of the room.

Karreya glared at him a little sourly and looked as if she were considering challenging him to a duel in order to gain that vantage point for herself.

“You can always just sit beside me,” he suggested, with a grin he knew was more than a bit wicked. “We’ll both be able to see, and everyone will assume we simply can’t keep our hands off each other.”

A moment longer, and to his shock, she nodded. “A solid strategy. We will also be able to speak without being overheard.”

And without even the smallest appearance of hesitation, she slid around the seat until her shoulder brushed his and their hips touched beneath the table.

It was entirely innocent contact, and yet for some reason Vaniell found himself unable to ignore her nearness. Good grief, his pulse even kicked up and a bizarre fluttering sensation took up residence behind his sternum.

Wait, were those…butterflies? How very odd.

If it were any other woman beside him, Vaniell would have embraced the ruse—literally—and let his arm drape casually around her shoulders. But with Karreya… He didn’t want to spook her. She showed no signs of being similarly aware of his proximity, so he doubted she would be flattered by his attention.

And the last thing he wanted was for her to label him a flirt or a cad. He wanted her to feel safe with him, and… well, he also wasn’t convinced she wouldn’t stab him for taking liberties. Which shouldn’t have made her more attractive, but it did.

“Speak,” she said abruptly. “You said that you would tell me about the bad things that happened.”

He had said that, hadn’t he? And yet, now that the moment was here, he had no idea where to begin or where to end. How could he tell her any of the truth without revealing more than he dared?

“I am originally from the Throne of Garimore.” That much seemed safe. “The king there is hostile to… people like me.” To mages. She was sharp enough to make the connection without him needing to say it aloud, and all Abreian citizens knew of King Melger’s animosity towards magic. “I escaped, but there are many more who have not—who are being hunted and killed for the sake of the king’s groundless fears and prejudices. And a part of what I do is try to find ways for others like me to escape to neighboring Thrones.”

Karreya did not move, but her body remained tense and focused beside him. Given the Empire’s attitude towards mages, it was not out of the question that she would side with Garimore’s king on this matter.

“How do you accomplish this?” she asked, with no inflection to tell him how she felt about his revelation.

“Through a network of associates that I supply with funds and information.” It was too dangerous—for both Vaniell and his allies—for him to participate directly. Too much chance he would be recognized and their entire network brought down by association. “I have acquaintances in each of the Thrones who sympathize with our cause, and I bring them together. Provide means of communication and the money for necessary supplies. Set up businesses as a front for their activities. There aren’t many of us, but our work must be covert, so numbers don’t always help.”

“And the messages today were from some of these acquaintances?”

Vaniell nodded. The words did not want to be said. “We were… not fast enough this time. Of three that we attempted to save, only one…”

Karreya was silent for a few moments as Vaniell simply breathed through the pain and the guilt.

“I do not understand,” she said at last. “You pretend to idleness while caring for unwanted street children and rescuing the helpless, and yet you drown in self-recrimination. As though you have committed some great sin. Do Abreians have some absurd cultural practice of unending penance?”

Vaniell could have laughed if he were not so near to weeping. For most of his life, he had hidden the depth of his guilt from the world, and yet… Karreya saw through every bit of his posturing and pretending, as if his innermost feelings were written on his face.

“I cannot speak for others,” he replied. “But I have indeed committed great sins. And even if I had not, when a tyrant rises, someone must stand against him. Someone with the power to help those who have no power or voice of their own.”

Even if it meant sacrificing everything he’d originally tried to save. He’d sold his own soul to protect the person he loved the most, and then she’d looked him in the eye and told him it was no longer worth it. Begged him to leave before protecting her became the cause of his own destruction.

As if she did not know how great a price he’d already paid.

“I have always been told,” Karreya said slowly, her gaze roaming the room, “that a life of self-sacrifice is a noble one. That we are meant to surrender all of ourselves to a greater good. Do you also believe that there is no greater responsibility than this?”

Well, that was the question, wasn’t it.

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