Page 75 of The Uncrowned Prince

“I know you have no reason to trust me either, but for what it’s worth, Karreya does not lie. She is wise, and her heart is true. In terms of allies, you could do far worse.”

“You, for instance?” Leisa glanced up at him repressively, then back at Karreya. Her gaze assessed, calculated, and within a mere handful of moments, she gave a single, sharp nod.

“Yes,” she said simply. “I will listen. The power of Garimore’s king lies in his ability to divide us when we are stronger together. Whether you betray me or not, I choose to hear you. I choose to trust the bonds of family, whether they are born of blood or battle.”

She rose to her feet. “Together?” she said. “Cousin?”

She held out her hand.

And Karreya took it.

CHAPTER19

Vaniell couldn’t help the tiny smile that creased his lips as he watched Karreya take those first steps of reaching out to her cousin and choosing her own future. She had never lacked for courage in a fight, but this went beyond physical bravery.

She was embracing a new way of seeing the world. The freedom to choose, along with all of the fear those choices brought with them. Freedom meant mistakes. It meant the consequences were yours alone. It meant accepting the outcome and being brave enough to get up and keep going.

And speaking of consequences…

“So.” He turned to the night elf, managing not to flinch at the shame and regret that assailed him. “What revenge would you wish of me, if not my death?”

Emotions churned in the Wyvern King’s gray eyes—fury and helplessness, along with dark memories. But as they regarded one another, the turmoil seemed to fade, leaving a glacial coolness with no hint of what lay beneath.

“First, I would have the truth from you, princeling,” the night elf demanded. “Why did you help him?”

It was the one question Vaniell would have preferred not to answer, from the one person he owed that answer to.

“Does it matter?” He couldn’t quite prevent bitterness from entering his tone. “If I had been courageous enough to refuse, you would never have been enslaved, and his reign of terror would never have come to pass. The blame lies with me, no matter my reasons.”

“None of us truly knows what might have been,” Kyrion replied. “And motivation always matters.”

“Then I suppose”—Vaniell drew in a deep breath and released it—“I did it because I was young and arrogant and terrified. I was the only one who knew his secret, and he threatened the lives of everyone I cared about if I did not obey his will. Perhaps I was only fourteen, but part of me wanted to believe I was strong enough to protect them.”

He could have stopped there, but it wasn’t the whole, shameful truth. “And”—his voice dropped nearly to a whisper—“I believe I also did it because a dark and hungry part of my soul wanted to prove to my father that I was not as worthless as he named me.”

He’d never said it aloud before. Almost never dared admit it to himself in the privacy of his own mind, but it was true, and uttering the words felt like reaching into his heart, pulling out the worst and darkest part of himself, and exposing it to the light.

Kyrion regarded him in silence for a long handful of breaths, as the waves rushed across the sand, the fire continued to crackle, and Karreya and Leisa talked quietly in the background. Somehow, Vaniell still felt as if time itself were suspended as he awaited the night elf’s words of judgment.

“I have a brother.”

It was not what Vaniell had expected him to say.

“He is not much different in age from you,” Kyrion continued. “For ten years, he believed me dead by human hands, and acted out his feelings of rage and betrayal by stoking the flames of war between our peoples. It was the reaction of a grieving young boy, doing whatever he could to make sense of a world that was broken and stained by the actions of a few evil men.”

He caught Vaniell’s gaze and held it. “It was also a terrible mistake. Many people were injured by it, and yet, it was caused not only by his willful choices, but by the lies of those who profited from violence and hostility. Adults, who knew what they were doing and exploited his innocence instead of protecting him.”

It sounded almost as if he were attempting to absolve Vaniell of his crimes, but there could be no true absolution. He’d known that his actions were wrong.

“My brother has acknowledged his error, and so I will ask of you the same that I asked of him. That you look fully and honestly on the damage you have caused. And that you pay for your mistakes, but not by dying.”

“What restitution would you have of me?” Vaniell murmured.

“I want all you have to give, Prince of Garimore.” Kyrion spoke with utter finality. “Your death means nothing. Your life, on the other hand, seems sufficient price to pay.”

His life… Jarek, too, had seemed to value that worthless prize. Perhaps the prospect of owing his remaining years to so many should have been daunting, but for some reason, Vaniell felt lighter. Some of the weight he had carried for so long seemed to fall from his shoulders as he faced this man he had wronged and found both wisdom and understanding.

“I would offer you my life and gladly,” Vaniell said, with all honesty, “but I have already promised it elsewhere.”

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