Page 4 of Ira

“It’s nice, no?” I said mildly, impaling a piece of meat from the central platter on my knife and dropping it onto my plate. “The dining hall feels livelier than it has in years. Perhaps in all the time I’ve been here.”

“That will fade,” Father countered. “The novelty of them will wear off. And then what happens? Adjustments must be made. Unknowns must be accounted for. It will not be a good thing in the long run, Verner. Mark my words.”

Mother hummed in agreement, and I held back my sigh of irritation. As far as parents went—especially considering the social class we belonged to—I supposed I couldn’t complain. Levana had it much worse, I’d recognized that even when we were children growing up nearby to each other. But their unwillingness to see even the faintest hint of change as a possibility for something better was exhausting. Whatever direction the winds blew, my parents kept their gaze trained firmly backward.

“Hunters bring nothing but death and destruction wherever they go,” Father continued. “I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of that.”

“Yes, well. Times have changed,” I replied uncomfortably. In all honesty, there was nothing I could say in response to that. I wasn’t about to argue in the Hunters’ favor—there was no defending what they’d done to my kind for generations. To my family. It was indefensible.

I suspected thatwehad plenty to answer for from generations ago, when the Hunters were the Hunted, and the Shades were at their most powerful. The balance had shifted in their favor for centuries, and now we were looking to find some kind of equilibrium.

I hoped in time that my parents would embrace the king’s vision, but my expectations were low. Like many Shades, their hatred ran deep.

“You’ve served the Guard faithfully, Verner,” Mother murmured, still staring unabashedly at the table of ex-Hunters and their admirers. “Perhaps it’s time to come home? I’m sure the captain wouldn’t begrudge it, considering how long and loyally you’ve served. You were never meant to serve at all—you’re a firstborn. Your place is at home.”

Firstborn. I wanted to contradict that, but now wasn’t the time. Not while we were surrounded by courtiers. That Father didn’t say anything made me think this conversation had been planned out in advance of dinner.

“Certainly, I plan on coming home at some point,” I replied, deflecting. It wasn’t a particularly appealing idea, but I couldn’t put it off forever. I was the heir, and Sunlis was an archaic estate, governed by archaic rules.

As the onlylivingchild to the current earl, my future position was secure, even if my father wished to replace me. Unlike more progressive houses, the succession rules at Sunlis were clear and inflexible. The only way out of it was if I chose to give it up.

“I see what you’re doing, Verner,” Mother said lightly. “You are avoiding giving me a proper response. And I do not approve of it.”

“Neither of us approve,” Father put in.

I’d forgotten how it was like hearing an echo when the two of them were together. Though I supposed there was something charming about how united they were. I liked to think I would beas devoted to my partner someday, should I be fortunate enough to find one who merely wanted me for myself, and not the wealth I was set to inherit.

“Osric is doing well,” Mother said, unprompted.

“Is he?” I had very little interest in hearing about the cousin who’d made himself at home in what had once been my wing of the palace, but I knew my parents would have plenty to say on the matter. While my parents had never explicitly said so, they had undoubtedly allowed it in the hope that it would put pressure on me to come back and stake a claim over my territory, or some other such nonsense.

“He is. He’s taken over the renovation of the east wing of the estate—you remember it was always leaking. Very good of him to take on a project of that magnitude, and purely out of kindness, as he stands to gain nothing from it,” Father added.

“Perhaps he’ll get lucky and I’ll give up my position. Then he’ll gain the whole estate out of it,” I pointed out.

Mother gasped. “Don’t say such things, Verner. The very idea of him taking your position has never even come up. Only you would think it—and why is that? Because you never plan on coming home? Because you’d throw everything away—the future the gods have blessed you with—to bow and scrape and take orders? Is that your plan?”

“No, Mother,” I sighed, regretting saying anything.

Ididn’twant to spend my days fretting about leaking roofs and the astronomical cost of keeping such an enormous household running. I didn’t want to merely pop into court for the purpose of reminding everyone of my illustrious existence. I didn’t want the social isolation that came with an elevated position.

Frankly, I couldn’t imagine whyanyonewould want those things. But I would be letting my entire family down if I gave up my position, and doing untold damage to my reputation in the process. What would my future in the Guard even look like ifI disinherited myself? The captain likely wouldn’t care, but the other guards would.

And if I wasn’t an earl, and I wasn’t welcome in the Guard… then what? I had no other skills to offer.

“Your vagueness is very tiresome to me, Verner. Why can you not simply do what is expected of you? We ask so very little…” Father muttered, though the rest of what he said floated in one ear and out the other as my gaze drifted back to the trio of ex-Hunters, only occasionally visible through the sea of Shades crowding around them. I presumed they were content enough with it, or their scent would be broadcasting to their admirers that the attention was unwelcome.

But then again, would the others respect that as promptly as they should? Maybe I should go over and check their general scents for myself—

“Verner,” Captain Soren said, pausing at our table. “Godwin, Nezetta.” He tipped his head respectfully to my parents, and they returned the gesture somewhat stiffly. They would always respect someone in his position, but they had a general mistrust for anyone who resided at court.

“How are you, Captain?” Mother asked.

There went my plan to check on the ex-Hunters and make sure they were comfortable and not in need of assistance. Why had the captain not assigned a guard purely for their benefit at dinner? His mistrust of Astrid—who was a genuine threat—may have blinded him to the others, who seemed less than harmless.

“Well, thank you. Are you enjoying your time at court?”

My parents seemed even more uncomfortable than usual, and I realized they were probably thinking about the scandal with the captain’s sister and judging him accordingly. It soothed my ire with him somewhat. The captain should in no way be held responsible for his sister’s choices.

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