Chapter 28 - Calliope

Days pass. Beasts converge upon our city, though no more manage to penetrate the castle’s walls. The morning is chilly, and in its quiet shadows, I find myself alone by the window near the library, which I have not been able to re-enter since my encounter with the monster there, watching a thick fog drape itself over Millrath, folding the city into its embrace. I wrap my arms around myself, as if the motion might anchor me against the surge of uncertainty that has crept up inside. War is coming. The armies of the United Houses are gathering, and Arvoren … he won’t spare them, not a soul. His eyes, when he told me, held a determination that chilled me, a resolve that seemed to steel him to sacrifice everything—he would even damn himself. I know this to be true.

Part of me, the logical part, should welcome this news. It could be my salvation. Amid the chaos, with battle on the horizon and Arvoren’s attention divided, my escape should be within reach. It’s the chance I’ve been waiting for, and yet … why, then, does the thought settle in my stomach like a stone?

I press my fingers to the cold glass, watching a royal falcon circle above the turrets and feeling like I am staring at my own reflection in the sky—wild, dangerous, caged and yet free. I shouldn’t be so weak as to linger here, let alone feel this knot of emotions when I think of him. Yet, here I am.

A footstep in the corridor snaps me from my reverie, and I turn to see Darian entering the space. His tired face is softened in the faint light. He nods his head in greeting to me as he sees me, then takes mark at my side, hands folded, always standing to attention.

Despite the brutality of our first meeting, we’ve grown close in our own quiet way, bound by this strange, tenuous thread between us—Arvoren, and all the decisions he has made. We look out across the waters together as a fret of fog rolls in under us.

“Darian.” I force a smile, but it falls flat. I can’t hide the shadows under my eyes or the tension in my stance. I have no need to. He knows all.

Maintaining some distance, he nonetheless steps closer, studying me with that keen, discerning gaze of his, one eyebrow arched.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he says gently. “Or perhaps you’re thinking about one.”

“I suppose it feels like both.” I rest a hand on the windowpane, my limbs feeling heavy, and sigh. “You do not need to tell me what I have deduced time and time again. I know the danger we face here. I know my part in it, willing or not. I’m no fool.”

Darian nods, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, we’re both silent. Finally, he ventures, “And yet, I feel there’s more to this melancholia than the impending war.”

I look away, feeling heat rise to my face despite myself. It’s humiliating, this admission, and yet the need to speak is fierce. “I don’t understand it, Darian. How did I let myself become … ensnared in this? In him?”

He tilts his head to the side slightly, still peering down upon the lake. He does me the decency of not looking me in the eye. “I did not think it would ever happen,” he murmurs, not unkindly. “You feel something real for Arvoren.”

I don’t respond immediately, yet the weight of that truth settles heavy on my chest.

“I’ve been trying to remind myself, day after day, that he’s the reason I’m here. He’s kept me locked away, far from the life I once knew, far from everything I’d dreamed of becoming. He destroyed my home. I should hate him, shouldn’t I?” I laugh, but it’s hollow. “And yet, somehow … I don’t.”

Darian’s face softens, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Love and hate are not so distant from one another. Perhaps it’s no surprise you’ve found yourself in the no-man’s-land between them.”

“It isn’t love.” The denial is sharp and instant. I refuse to name it that.

“Call it whatever you want,” he says gently. “I wouldn’t presume to tell you. But … you care for him. I apologize, I forget myself … but I mean it; you do.”

I clench my fists, nails digging into my palms, the brief sting grounding me. “I don’t know how I let it happen. I only know that I feel … conflicted, constantly. He infuriates me, with his arrogance, his unrelenting pride. And yet, there are moments—so brief I could almost convince myself they didn’t happen—when I see something … beneath all that. Yes. There are moments I care for him. Of course there are. He is my husband.”

Darian’s gaze finally meets mine. I find no condescension there, no pity, simply an even, steady knowingness. “You have every right to feel conflicted. But if the houses fail, Calliope, and the king lives on, you might end up as the queen here for the rest of your days, whether you want that future or not.”

He doesn’t say the unspoken part, though we both hear it anyway: you will give him children. You will provide the king’s heirs.

“I don’t want that.” The words spill out before I can stop them. “I don’t even know if I want this land, these people. They’re not mine, not in my blood. I am not draconic. I never will be.” I shake my head, the words spilling faster now. “I only wanted to be free. That was all. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. And I still want it.”

“And perhaps you still will be,” he replies, his voice soothing yet cautious. “But you are here now, and should the houses fail … it’s a possibility you’ll have to face. You would be good for Millrath, Calliope. Certainly, you balance out the king’s fearsome temper. Can you not see that? Tomorrow, he must give an address to the people of this city. They are furious. And we both know he will fail to sate them. We both know precisely that which he cannot do—gain the love and the trust of his people.”

I shake my head, looking away. He doesn’t understand. He might understand how I feel, but Darian will never fully comprehend why.

“I cannot, either. The throne, it’s like a noose,” I whisper. “A trap, meant to bind me. I don’t know how anyone could want this. I didn’t choose this kingdom. I don’t seek its downfall, but I owe it nothing, either.”

He looks away from me. Even in my exhausted state, I can see disappointment for what it is. “What of the people who live and suffer here? The people like you? I’ve seen it myself, Calliope. You care, even if you don’t realize it. You would be a different ruler. A good ruler.”

I swallow, the implication sinking in. “That sort of talk is treasonous. He is your king.”

He shakes his head with a small, humorless smile. “And having known him as long as I have, I know what is best for Arvoren. I know you make him the best man, the best king, he can be. You shall do with that truth as you wish, My Queen.”

I cannot bear the words, though I know their truth, or at least the half of it. I know full well I unsettle Arvoren, that I pull from him some tenderness he has never exhibited. But that should not be my duty, my life’s work. I didn’t ask for it.

I didn’t ask for us to care for one another. It just happened one day, surreptitiously, quietly, under my nose.

“I don’t know what I want anymore,” I murmur, barely loud enough to be heard. “Everything I thought I knew has unraveled.”

“Whatever you choose, Calliope, know that you have my loyalty.” Darian steps back from me. The comfort of his presence is gone, and I feel cold again. He is no longer my confidant, I know, as I see his reflection in the window straighten, returning to his dutiful solidity.

When he leaves, I am again friendless, alone with this choice I must make.