Page 122 of The Second Death of Locke
Scaelas and Cleoc did not linger at the harbor, but went into the war room for more arguing as soon as they reached the Isle. Though she had not been reunited with him long, with every look at Scaelas, Grey could tell with absolute certainty that he was furious, and she had little doubt as to the object of his anger.
They were served food as night fell, still debating strategy; as the hours crept on, one by one the captains left to assign watches and make sure their camps were properly established, followed by the masters, until only the commanders remained. It was nearing midnight when Kier finally said, “There’s not much more we can do tonight. Locke?”
She hated the uncertainty, but she agreed.
Reggin and Dainridge and their Hands moved to stand; Cleocand Scaelas did not move. “If we may have a moment with the Lady?” Scaelas said. At Kier’s withering look, he sighed. “Commander, you may stay.”
The four of them lingered in the room. Cleoc said, “It was a worrying decision, to directly attack one of your ally’s commanders then jump off a cliff.”
Grey crossed her arms. She would not be chastised like a child. “I saved your soldiers’ lives.”
“Nearly at the risk of your own. It’s like you learned it from Seward.”
She leaned back against the table. “I did what I had to do.”
“You nearlydied,” Scaelas said, his voice full of scarcely concealed rage. “That is certainly not what I agreed to. Now that we only just have you, you threaten us with your death?”
Cleoc shot him a warning glare. “It is more worrying for an ally to make such rash decisions without consultation,” she said. “I have put my trust in you. Do not make me regret that.”
Before Grey could answer, Cleoc swept out of the room. The door slammed shut behind her.
“Commander Seward,” Scaelas said quietly. “A moment alone with the High Lady?”
“Whatever you need to say to Grey, you can say to me.”
Grey sighed. “Go, Kier. I’ll be up soon.”
He paused for a second, two; then, seeing she wouldn’t change her mind, he too left. Grey turned to face Scaelas, her hands balled into fists.
“I am not your daughter,” she said. “You cannot come here to find me, a grown woman, sovereign to my own nation, and deign to parent me.”
“Acliff, Gremaryse?” Torrin seethed. “A cliff?”
“You told me I could save him!”
“I told you, whatever you did, to not do it alone.”
She threw up her hands. “What else was I to do! Let Kier die?”
“You asked for my help, and then you didthat! I don’t know—you could have followed the rules, for once in your life. Even if you ran off with Captain Seward, you should’ve brought him back to the fort, to yourallies. We could’ve handled this correctly and safely.”
“I was doing what I thought was best.”
“You don’t know anything about how this works,” Torrin snapped.
“You’ve made your stance on the matter very clear. But as I would remind you, your majesty—you are not my father.”
Torrin shook his head slowly. “I am not,” he said. The fight went out of him; he, too, leaned on the table, his arm against hers. “Do you feel them press upon your heart, Maryse?”
She felt her jaw tighten, the weight of them crushing down. “Yes,” she said finally. “Sometimes.”
“As do I.” He looked down at her—he was nearly a foot taller, built like one of his nation’s hulking trees—and she saw the sadness in his eyes. “Your father was like a brother to me. The first person in this world I ever knew. They say, in the old religion of Scaela, mages and wells were one soul cleft in two: if that was true, he was mine.”
“We don’t have that story on Locke.”
“I know. Probably because it requires trusting another person.”Blood and betrayal. That is your legacy.
She pushed that aside. “You’re a well,” she said.
