31. Olive Branch

Olive Branch

I didn't expect to run into anyone. The revel had ended at sunrise, and Cass and I had spent enough time together that most people would either be asleep or already en route home after the coronation. They'd probably had to use guards to get the road clear enough of cultists to let people through, but this was the Clement Palace. There were enough guards available to make a riot line four men deep if necessary.

So it was a bit of a surprise when I walked out into the formal gardens and morning sunlight to find the Sagebrush Duke standing at the edge of the palace grounds, staring out at the valley with the unfocused expression of someone who wasn't seeing anything in front of him. He wasn't in his revel clothing anymore, wearing something plain that looked like travel clothes, and he clutched his snakehead cane so hard his knuckles were white.

I dithered for a moment. I was barefoot, wearing green-and-red flannel pajama pants that clashed mightily with the electric-blue-on-black illustration of my tee, and while I was comfortable in something like this around Cass, Ace was another story. Still, though. He looked like he was having some sort of personal war, and I liked him well enough that being seen as a regular person seemed a low enough cost, if he needed help.

He didn't look up when I walked over, just standing there, but his ear tilted down towards me.

There was no reason to push him. We weren't friends – we barely knew each other – and he was fae. He had all the time in the world.

I stood there with him, the sun warming my face and chill breeze curling around me, for maybe ten minutes before he spoke. He relaxed, bit by bit, the longer we stood there. It was nice for me, too. The silent companionship helped my unhappiness settle, like a calming meditation.

"I didn't anticipate how difficult it would be to choose to hurt again," he said, his voice quiet and calm. "I cannot seem to make myself take the step that will return me to my eternity of pain."

I didn't look at him. I watched a leaf as it fell, feeling autumn descending on the Court. "Has it been a long time, then?" I asked, as if it was an idle question.

He stared out into the middle distance, eyes unfocused, like he was looking into the distant past. "Daesarys Omahice conquered Sagebrush Court more than a thousand years ago. I was only a boy," he said softly. "I tried to save my pet dog. It was stupid, but I was so young. I didn't know better." The wind stirred his hair, the dark strands drifting. "I took a maul to the hip, your majesty. Iron spikes tearing through muscle and smashing bone. I'm lucky to be able to walk, though when I'm at home I generally prefer a wheelchair to the pain of standing."

"Oh," I said, my voice as soft as his, because I felt like I should say something. "That's awful." I swallowed, trying not to imagine the scene. An injured dog, defending his master. A boy, trying to keep a soldier from killing his pet. The callous cruelty of maiming a child because you'd been bitten by his dog.

I swallowed again. "Why are you telling me? The memory must be painful."

One corner of his mouth tugged back. The cool mountain breeze flirted with his hair. "You were kind to me for reasons I still can't quite fathom, and you continue in that kindness with little reward." The Sagebrush Duke exhaled, tilting his face up so that the morning sun fell across his cheeks. "I'm not your friend, nor should you trust kindness you receive from my hand in turn. I have long been the enemy of your throne, and such enmity doesn't vanish like the morning mists."

"I wouldn't expect it to," I said, returning my gaze to the landscape. It was a beautiful vista, the sunlight on the dissolving mist turning the valley into a fantastical place shrouded by gilded fog. "For what it's worth, I wasn't trying to win you over, or anything. Making you hurt for the sake of looking important just seemed so…" I trailed off, not sure what to say.

Ace looked sidelong at me, lifting one dark brow. "You wear a conqueror's crown, your majesty," he pointed out. "It's common practice to humiliate one's conquered enemies to ensure they understand their place beneath your heel."

I made a sound of disgust.

He snorted a laugh and sighed through his nose, a faint smile touching his mouth. "It is what it is," he said with a flick of his ear.

"What it is, is stupid," I said, putting my hands on my hips. "There's no reason to treat you or the other dukes like enemies. The Omahices may have been conquerors, but Cass and I didn't have shit to do with it, and Vad's been punted off the throne. Whatever legacy the former King intended has been thoroughly quashed."

A bitter expression twisted his handsome face. "The Omahice line has hardly been extinguished. It's not as if King Marys gelded the fallen prince as his predecessor did to us."

All my skin went cold. Tension made my ribs hurt, my heart kicking against its cage. "Gelded," I said, the word clipped. "As in, forcibly sterilized?"

The duke frowned, his brows drawing together.

I didn't look. I fisted my hands, trying not to let the rage make me snarl. I could practically hear Auntie scolding me, her arms crossed over her chest. You care too much about this life, Quyen. You need to learn peace.

Maybe I did. But if that was the legacy I'd been handed—if the fucking rape of forced sterilization was my inheritance, when those vicious crimes had been visited on so many people like me—

"It's a simple enough spell," Ace said in a careful voice. "Infertility as the price of my life. If I try to have someone break the spell, I die. I'm the last Vaylir. The last of the Sagebrush royals."

There was a lot behind those words; plenty of unspoken communication going on. It was an infertility spell, and a spell that Cass could theoretically cast, since he could have done it to Vad. That made it a healing spell, and I would have bet any amount of money that no healer that Omahice had kept on staff could hold a candle to Cass with the force of the Court of Mercy behind him. But it was a spell that was tied to Ace's life, one that would kill him if he tried to pursue breaking it.

Naming himself royal was as much a warning as telling me his enmity against the crown lingered. He would reclaim Sagebrush Court if he could. Letting him have children would be dangerous—would give him a way to re-establish his family line. Of course a conqueror would have taken that from him, the same way his family had been taken from him, down to the dogs.

There was no way Ace wanted to be permanently infertile against his will any more than he wanted to be crippled and in pain. There was also no way for him to ask me to fix it.

He'd given me the information. It was up to me to make a decision about it, and I had to do it without putting him in a position where he had to defend the spell that bound him.

I laced my fingers behind my back and licked my lips. "I don't keep secrets from my soulmate."

A faint smile. His dark lashes lowered. "It's not a secret."

"Mm." I turned to look at him.

The duke met my gaze, an assessing light in his hazel eyes. "I ought to go."

"And I ought to tell my soulmate to keep fixing what his predecessor defaced, assuming you're alright with that. His Splendor keeping you from hurting, I mean, and repairing the strain of your steps," I said, keeping my expression placid, instead of trying to emphasize the implications of that statement. Aeskanai Vaylir was no naif. He'd know what I meant.

His ears leaned forward in a position I associated with pleasure and focus from Cass. Relief, maybe, or pleased surprise. "Granting mercy, your majesty?"

I remembered Paloma's sharp pleasure in stating that granting mercy made debtors, and shook my head. "Repaying the debt we inherited," I said, holding his gaze. "If you've spent the last thousand years living with the punishment for loving a creature enough to try to save it, I think the least the Crown can do in recompense is to do our best to ensure that you spend the next thousand freed of those chains."

For a moment, the sun gleamed in his eyes, but with a sharp blink the wet vanished. "I think I'll spend the next hour in the gardens," he said quietly, his voice level. Ace turned away. Tension lined his body, his shoulders taut and the long line of his spine straight. "It's a lovely day, and I'm deeply grateful for the respite from pain."

"Safe travels, your grace." I set my hand on the cool stone of the palace gate. "I look forward to seeing you again."

"This doesn't make us friends," he said quietly, not looking back.

"I hardly think that matters," I said with a laugh. He glanced over his shoulder, one brow raised, and I gave him a smile in return. "You're a good conversationalist, and you're willing to engage with me. I'm happy to have an old enemy as my honored guest. I like a little spice in my life."

The duke's mouth slanted up. "I enjoy being an honored guest, even of an old enemy." He put one hand over his heart. "Until we meet again, your majesty."

"'Til then," I said in return. I watched him go for a long moment, then turned to the palace wall, and thought of Cass.