Page 80 of The Sundered Blade

“Thank you,” Vaniell said soberly. “And best of luck to you.”

Lord Kellan threw him a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes, snapped off a jaunty salute, and then disappeared back into the shadows and smoke.

CHAPTER21

They found the city gates shattered and broken, but there was no time to stop. From somewhere overhead came the harsh cry of a hunting wyvern, and all Vaniell could feel was a brief rush of relief that Kyrion was still alive. Karreya jogged at his shoulder, eyes sharp and keen, blades held ready even as they left the city behind and passed into the darkness beyond.

He didn’t know what he’d expected of the enemy general. Perhaps that he would be lurking somewhere in the night, awaiting his moment of triumph at a safe distance.

But he should have known better. The Empire had no need to hide—not when her forces were stronger and had gone unchallenged for so many years.

A few hundred yards from the gates, on a slight rise of ground, stood a ring of torches, holding the shadows at bay with their flickering light. Within that ring was a tent, a bonfire, and a crowd of people—perhaps a dozen armored soldiers, three women in robes, and a single figure on horseback. He sat at ease in the saddle, wrists crossed in front of him, awaiting victory.

This had to be the general Karreya spoke of. Most of his body was encased in armor, but his helmet was off, revealing a man in perhaps his late forties with dark hair gathered in a tail, watching the city with an expression that might have been hewn from granite. He was tall and bulky with muscle—possibly twice Karreya’s size—and Vaniell nearly stopped breathing as he considered what she intended to do.

He tugged her to a stop in the darkness, one hand on her arm. “Karreya, wait. Please.”

She paused and looked back at him. “Do not tell me not to do this,” she said coolly.

“I won’t,” he promised. “No matter how much I want to. I know perfectly well that you’re the only one whocando this. The only one who might have a chance. But you can’t go before I’ve told you the truth about what happened… back there.”

It was the last thing in the world he wanted to do right now. She was about to throw herself into a battle she might have no hope of winning, and all his instincts insisted that he say something profound or romantic, something to inspire or comfort her.

But Karreya valued nothing so much as truth, and that was what he needed to give her.

“What truth do you suppose I do not know?”

Vaniell held out his hands in the near darkness—hands still stained with blood. “I killed him,” he said hoarsely. “Your father. Not indirectly, not through inaction, but with my own hands. I didn’t think I could. It always felt wrong, somehow, even when I knew he wasn’t really my father. But he was using my magic to force Leisa and Kyrion to fight one another, and I couldn’t let it go on. Couldn’t let either of them die that way.”

His chin dropped as he struggled against the memory of that moment. “I’d only ever imagined what it would be like… to deliberately take a life. And it was so much worse. I still feel sick. But… I also feel like I did the right thing. And then I feel guilt, not only because I took your father from you, but because why didn’t I do it sooner? I could have saved so many lives, and yet, what kind of person struggles with the guilt ofnotmurdering someone?”

Karreya took a step closer and pressed her hand against his cheek with uncharacteristic gentleness. “I am sorry,” she said.

Wait, what?

“Karreya,” he choked out, “I’m trying to apologize toyou. I understand if you hate me for it, but I had no choice. Not in that moment. I didn’t plan it, but there was no other way to stop him…”

She rose on tiptoes and kissed him. Her lips were soft and gentle, and even though they both smelled of blood and smoke, he could have stayed there, like that, until the end of time, with her sword-callused hands on his face and her warmth pressed against him.

Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her closer, heedless of daggers or enchantments, needing only to feel the unmerited acceptance she offered. To linger in the joy of knowing that he had not lost her.

After a moment or two, her kiss turned desperate. Seeking. Wanting. As if she were trying with every breath to tell him something important.

Sliding his other hand into the silk of her hair, Vaniell cupped his fingers around the back of her neck and tugged her closer still, wishing this moment could last forever. That he would never have to end this kiss and send the woman he loved off to duel a giant in armor.

But the moment did end. Karreya broke the kiss and stared up at him for a moment, still holding his face between her hands. “There are so many reasons why I love you,” she said simply. “Not least because even when you are pretending, you are entirely yourself. You do what is difficult, even when it brings you pain. You do not shy away from the truth, and you do not ask others to suffer in your place. But you also trust those around you and do not try to make them less in order to make yourself greater. And you keep your promises. Which is how I know that I can trust your answer when I ask for your promise now.”

“What would you ask of me?”

“I will not beg you to understand,” she said quietly—almost regretfully. “I will not even request that you someday look back and forgive me, because that may not be possible.”

“Karreya, I will forgive you anything except dying.” Vaniell paused as he choked back something between laughter and a sob. “But you are frightening me. Just tell me what terrible thing you are going to ask.”

“That you do not follow me.”

It was indeed a terrible request.

“Do not try to help me. Do not try to save me from this. I know what I must do, and I ask only that you bear witness.”

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