Chapter 20

20

The pain of shame, greater than any wound.

~ Winter Moon Priest Dazibaru

Kaylina, relieved that Vlerion was not only alive but didn’t appear wounded, wanted to rush forward and hug him. And, even though she shouldn’t have been pleased about how the previous night had turned out, her body couldn’t help but thrum at the memory of what she’d enjoyed before the explosions had started.

But, when their eyes met, Vlerion looked away. He wore an expression she’d never seen from him before. Shame.

Her anguish returned, and she wanted to shout that it wasn’t his fault. But she was all too aware of Targon and the other rangers watching. She’d already confessed far more than she’d wanted to the ranger captain.

As Vlerion approached, he met her eyes again. His face was more masked now, and he nodded once to her.

The gesture felt so distant. She ached to pull him aside and talk to him alone.

But Vlerion stopped before reaching her and faced Targon while lifting the newspaper. Offering it to the captain?

“I’ve been investigating dead bodies in the catacombs and haven’t had a chance to look at today’s edition.” Targon’s tone implied he didn’t want to look at it.

Why bother? Last night, the three of them had seen the version that had doubtless been printed.

“It’s unexpected.” Vlerion handed the newspaper to Targon, then took a deep breath and stepped around him to face Kaylina.

“She saw the graveyard of carnage you left in the catacombs. Don’t distress her too much more today, Vlerion.” Targon waved the newspaper and walked off.

Kaylina stared at his back, stunned by… Was that solicitude? From the man who always wanted her flogged?

Vlerion closed his eyes, not seeming to notice. Maybe he’d only heard that she’d seen the bodies.

“I… don’t remember much.” He opened his eyes but only so he could look past her head, staring toward the river without seeing it. “When I was… he. I think we thought we wouldn’t run into anyone down there, but when we did… he was… not to be deterred. I remember snatches, rage, frustration.” His voice lowered so much she barely heard him add, “Blood. Death. Humans . The worst it’s ever been, that we’ve done. That I’ve done.”

His eyes didn’t moisten with tears the way hers had, but that shame returned to them. Anguish. Regret.

“It’s not your fault, Vlerion.” Kaylina gripped his forearm, wanting him to look at her, not past her. “It’s the Daygarii who cursed your line, and then it’s… me too. We both made bad choices last night. Let wishfulness lead us to… that.”

“Yes.” He sounded numb. Dead.

She hoped he didn’t blame her. If she’d given in to the beast, he wouldn’t have needed to flee and wouldn’t have stumbled onto those men. He wouldn’t have killed.

Unless he’d killed her. But she didn’t know if that would have happened. His mother had survived. Maybe she would have too. Maybe it wouldn’t have even been that bad.

Vlerion looked down at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, though she didn’t know if he wanted an apology. She felt guilty, like she owed him one.

“ You have nothing to apologize for.”

“Are you sure?” Kaylina attempted a smile. “It seems right.”

He laid a hand on hers. “I shouldn’t have made assumptions about that potion. I should have found a way to test it first before coming to you.”

“Like… on another woman? I wouldn’t have been delighted by that choice.”

“No. I don’t know.” Vlerion rubbed his face, and she noticed bruises darkening his stubbled jaw and a fresh gash on his scalp. The mercenaries must have landed a few blows before succumbing to the beast. “I know you’ve been frustrated—as have I—and I wanted to give you a reason to stay. To wait. Until…”

“I will stay. I know it’s taking a long time to figure out this curse, but I’m learning more about what I might be able to do—and about my heritage—every day. Whether I want to or not.” She tried her smile again, hoping to lighten his mood.

“You are. I have faith.” He didn’t return the smile. “In the meantime, however, it may be best if I leave.”

Kaylina swallowed and glanced at Targon, wondering if the captain might be behind that choice, but he’d walked away and was reading the newspaper.

“Leave… me?” she asked. “Or…?”

“The city.” Vlerion looked toward the newspaper and then around them, but there weren’t many people walking the river trail this morning. Elsewhere, steam whistles blew, men shouted, and horse hooves clattered on the cobblestones, promising kingdom subjects were going about their day, but it was still behind the castle. “But you, perforce, as well. As long as I’m here…”

Kaylina shook her head. “You don’t have to go. We’ll stay away from risky situations.” She waved toward the castle—toward her bedroom , though it had been the hallway near the tower where they’d had their interlude. “We won’t let you turn again. When I’m not, er, distracted , you know I’ve been able to help soothe you. I can stay nearby if you want, in case anyone irritating walks up and vexes you. More irritating and vexing than me, I mean.” She thought of the queen, though Jana Bloomlong filled that slot for her.

“It is not only that, although… last night was living out one of my nightmares, unfortunately. For that crime alone, I should be put to death.” Vlerion lifted his gaze skyward, the soft drizzle dampening his cheeks.

By the moon gods, he wasn’t thinking of his end was he? Admitting everything to the authorities and putting himself forward to be executed? Or… arranging for his death on his own?

“You can’t…” Blame yourself, Kaylina wanted to say, but they were both to blame, weren’t they? He’d made a poor choice, and she’d gone right along with it, even though she’d been concerned.

Her hand strayed to her pocket. After Targon’s comment about the elixir not hurting Vlerion before, she doubly regretted that she hadn’t thrown it at him, hadn’t done her best to stop the beast.

Vlerion lowered his gaze to her hand—her pocket. “I remember you reaching for… What’s in there?”

Kaylina hesitated. What if Vlerion grew angry that she’d asked Zhani for the elixir that Sabor, a detested enemy, had used on him? She believed Vlerion would understand—after all, he’d also been making requests from the Zhani pharmacy to stave off the beast—but couldn’t put aside her trepidation as she delved into her pocket to show him the vial.

His eyebrows rose. There wasn’t a label or anything to identify it.

Kaylina licked her lips. “It’s some of the stuff Sabor threw at you in the alley. Not the acid but what broke the spell of the beast.”

“And made me crumple helpless at his feet.” Vlerion’s tone was flat, his face hard to read.

“Yeah. I asked Zhani to figure out what it was so I could… Well, I thought, in case my power wasn’t enough, it might be good to be able to make the beast turn back.”

“That would have been good last night.”

“Yes.”

“But you were not able to reach it. He— I —stopped you?”

“I started to go for it, but I wasn’t sure… Well, Zhani said there could be side effects. Like heart damage.” Like it could have killed you, she thought but didn’t say aloud. That seemed melodramatic after Targon pointing out that it hadn’t the first time.

“I see.”

“I didn’t want to risk hurting you. I know the beast is dangerous, but I care about you.”

Vlerion gazed into her eyes, his face softening, going gentle as it did for her but didn’t for anyone else that she’d seen. Not even his old childhood friend, Lady Ghara.

“Because you love me,” he said.

It was presumptuous of him to assume that, but it half-sounded like a question, so maybe he wasn’t sure. Or maybe… was he in wonder?

“I do,” she said.

“Even though I am a pompous aristocrat.”

“Even though.”

“Good,” he said softly, holding her gaze.

Kaylina wished he would say that he also loved her, even though she was an irreverent, scheming, pain in the ass, but he glanced over his shoulder. Maybe because his captain wasn’t far away, and the other rangers glanced over now and then, he didn’t voice anything else.

Too bad. Kaylina knew he appreciated her and cared about her, but she would have liked him to say that he loved her. She believed it to be true, but one never knew for certain until one heard the words.

No, she decided as he continued to gaze at her with those gentle eyes, eyes that knew she had risked her life because she hadn’t wanted to chance hurting him. Maybe she didn’t need to hear the words. Maybe his love was there on his face.

Vlerion grasped her hand, drawing her from her musing. She thought he would take the vial from her. Instead, he curled her fingers around it, securing it in her grip. He leaned close to whisper in her ear.

“The next time you have reason to need it, do not hesitate. Throw it at me.”

“Vlerion.” She wanted to protest, even if he was right.

He brushed his lips along her cheek, kissing her briefly before leaning back and releasing her hand. He clasped his wrist behind his back, as if to remind himself that they dared not let their touches linger. That knowledge never stopped making her long for him.

“I do not intend to let the beast out again, so you should not need it. The rangers and the crown—” His brow furrowed, an acknowledgment, perhaps, that he didn’t quite know who “the crown” was at the moment. “They may need me, so I won’t do anything drastic, unless my superiors decide that is the right thing. But I will leave the area for a time, so that I can’t be used. I don’t want to be a catalyst for a civil war between mother and son—or the Virts and their family. At this point, I don’t know what’s most likely.”

“But…” Kaylina looked toward the newspaper, wondering for the first time if something different from the front page they’d seen had ultimately been printed. Why did he believe…

“I’ll tell Targon where to find me in case he needs me,” Vlerion said, “but it may be best if you and your taybarri don’t know how to reach me. For your own sake as well as mine.”

“You think I’ll be so bereft without your touch that I’ll ride out in the middle of the night to find you?” she asked before realizing the more likely reason. “Or… are there assassins again? People who might find me and question me about your whereabouts?”

“I don’t know yet if there will be assassins, but I deem that feasible.”

“I’d deem it likely ,” Targon said, catching who knew how much of their conversation. Newspaper raised, he walked closer to them. “After this, the prince and the queen may be after you.”

“Yes,” Vlerion said. “And since I rejected the queen’s… proposal, she’ll consider me more of a threat.”

Targon grunted. “Maybe you should have accepted it. For the sake of peace in the kingdom. Besides, she’s older than you. She’d croak eventually, and then you could find yourself a more amenable less-scheming soul to marry.” He looked at Kaylina but didn’t suggest she might fill that role.

She wanted to bristle at this future that didn’t include her at all, but Targon had lowered the paper, and she saw an opportunity to slip it out of his hands so she could see for herself what it contained.

“And you’d be king,” Targon added, not stopping her from taking it.

“A job I do not desire.”

“It’s in your blood, Vlerion. If the kingdom needs you, you must serve.”

“I wasn’t educated or prepared to take on such a duty.” Vlerion looked toward the mountains, a reminder that he’d been trained to be a ranger, to ride alone or with a partner for days on end, battling deadly animals and enemies. More than once, he’d admitted he was more at home out there, far from crowds, far from people who might vex him to the point of changing. And hadn’t the last months proved it was safer for all if he was out there? Since he’d met Kaylina, he’d changed—changed and killed —far more often than he had before.

“You’d still be a better choice than Petalira’s bratty kid,” Targon said. “If those mercenaries are any indication, Enrikon doesn’t intend to give up his chance at power without a fight. But he’d be a nightmare for Zaldor. He’d give even less lenience to the Virts, and he’s not shown respect toward the long-established aristocratic families that control the farms and ranches that feed the kingdom. They’re bristling about the idea of him in charge too.”

Kaylina looked at the front page of the paper but struggled to focus with them speaking beside her.

“As long as I am cursed, it is not a role I could accept. That is why my ancestor abdicated. One cannot protect and provide for the people by day and worry about turning into a monster that kills them by night. I suspect a political job would be more likely to make a man lose his cool and turn than…” He glanced at but didn’t point at Kaylina.

“Vlerion.” Targon gripped his arm and drew him away from her.

She wanted to hear what they said next but made herself stay put and read the paper. Not even the heading was the same as the one she’d read the night before, but the article did discuss Vlerion and it did reveal him as the beast.

A beast, it said, who protected people. She gawked in surprise as she read the words.

It claimed that when the ranger lord, Vlerion, saw threats to the kingdom, he changed and had the power of twenty men. He’d slain assassins, insurrectionists, Kar’ruk invaders, and diabolical traitors, such as Spymaster Sabor, who’d not only plotted to seize control and rule the kingdom himself but had been responsible for the hangings of factory workers whose only crimes had been complaining about onerous working conditions. After witnessing the vile acts of the spymaster, Lord Vlerion had taken the powerful beast form to slay the man. He’d had nothing to do, the newspaper assured the reader, with the death of King Gavatorin, who’d passed of natural causes. As a ranger and aristocrat, he’d always supported the king, never craving power for himself, even though he, as the only living male of the Havartaft line, was himself the rightful king.

After that, the article turned into a history lesson, speaking of King Balzarak, Vlerion’s ancestor, and how prosperous Zaldor had been in the days when he’d ruled. For six centuries, since before the gold boom and the moving of the capital, the Havartafts had reigned, never expanding the borders too far, always focusing on doing good for the current subjects, rather than starting wars and annexing lands and absorbing peoples that would later be difficult to manage. The only mistake a Havartaft ruler had ever made had been trying to save the starving subjects around the capital by sending the rangers into the preserve to hunt, and they’d been cursed ever since.

“I don’t understand,” Kaylina murmured, though the article had, as far as she knew, gotten more details right about the curse than most iterations of Vlerion’s story she’d seen and heard. He couldn’t change to fight wrongs, unfortunately, and it was chance if he’d killed threats to the kingdom. He hadn’t even been the one to slay Sabor, though she would happily let him keep the credit for that, especially if it turned into something that could help him.

But why would it? Who’d been responsible for this article, and toward what end had it been printed?

“How to read?” came Frayvar’s voice from the side. He’d ambled out the gate and caught her mumbling to the paper. “I thought you’d mastered that, though Silana did mention that it took you until you were six to get the hang of it.”

“We aren’t all geniuses who can learn at three.”

“Grandma said I was only two when I started reading recipe cards with her in the kitchen.”

“That’s why you’re her favorite. What do you think of this?” Kaylina handed the newspaper to him, though he hadn’t seen the earlier version and wouldn’t know that it had changed.

While he read, she puzzled over who could have changed it—and why. The Virts?

She thought of Grittor, but how could he have influenced the newspaper printer? This wasn’t the underground press that his people had started. Besides, just because he’d asked if the Virts owed her and Vlerion a favor didn’t mean he would immediately become a supporter of the beast.

“Huh.” Frayvar didn’t sound surprised by any of it.

Only then did she remember that she’d never told her brother about Vlerion’s curse. She’d promised Vlerion early on that she wouldn’t and had struggled to keep that secret.

“That’s not really what makes him lose it, is it?” Frayvar looked toward where Targon and Vlerion spoke under a willow.

“No, but— Wait, did you know about his curse? And what it does?”

“Of course.”

“But I’ve been keeping that a secret from you.”

Frayvar rolled his eyes. “I’m not a dimwit, Kay. Didn’t we just establish that?”

“You didn’t read a recipe card to learn about the curse.” She reined in her sarcasm and wondered if he had read about it somewhere.

“Nope. I figured it out a while ago. You’re a wonderful schemer, but you’re not that great at lying.” Frayvar handed the newspaper back. “It sounds like someone wants him to be the next king and is trying to get him the support of the common man. Even the aristocrats. Everyone who reads this newspaper, anyway. That article is trying to establish him as a folk hero.”

“He’s… a hero, I think, but not without…” Kaylina bit her lip, still hesitant to talk about the beast with her brother. Even if Frayvar had figured some things out, and he’d just read that article, Vlerion might not appreciate her babbling on the subject. Still, Frayvar was smart, and he was always a good person to brainstorm with. “He has some flaws,” she said quietly. “The curse gives him those flaws. Once he turns, he can’t control what he does. He barely even remembers it. He’s killed… Sometimes, he gets people that deserve it, but I think he’s killed some that didn’t.”

She thought ? She winced at the dishonesty.

If those men in the catacombs were—had been—kingdom subjects, hired by the prince, the prince who was technically the rightful heir of the throne, they hadn’t been doing anything wrong down there. Presumably, Enrikon had told them to lie low until he got a feel for the situation and whether or not he would need them.

“I did wonder about that,” Frayvar said, “since you’ve been borderline obsessed with lifting his curse. Yes, I knew about that, even though you were trying to be vague. I assumed the beast thing might be… inconvenient.”

“That’s an understatement.”

Kaylina caught movement, Targon returning. He was alone.

She turned, looking up and down the riverfront. Crenoch remained with Levitke and the other taybarri, and the two rangers who’d come with the captain were still there, but Vlerion had disappeared.

“Did you send him away?” Kaylina blurted, even though Vlerion had been speaking of leaving. It was hard to accept that he’d left of his own free will without saying goodbye. How long did he plan to be gone?

A lump swelled in her throat as she worried that he might not come back at all. What if he believed that leaving was best for the kingdom?

“Did you send him away, my lord ,” Targon said.

Kaylina looked at him in exasperation. How could he care about stupid honorifics right now?

More gently, Targon said, “If Prince Enrikon becomes king, policies might get tighter, rules more stringent, and lapses of enforcement less frequent.”

“You mean Port Jirador will get even more anal ?” Emotions made it hard for her to calm down and force reverence from her lips.

Targon’s eyes narrowed. “The whole kingdom might become more stringent. You had better practice sheathing your tongue more often, especially when you’re around aristocrats or anyone your superior.”

“All you are is a superior?—”

Frayvar gripped her arm and cleared his throat loudly to drown out the word ass .

Judging by the further narrowing of Targon’s eyes, Frayvar might not have been entirely successful.

“Thank you for the advice, my lord Captain,” Frayvar said. “We want to continue our business as law-abiding kingdom subjects, so we will certainly do our best to comply.” He shot Kaylina a warning look.

She ground her teeth, detesting having her younger brother correct her, even if he was right. She managed to keep her mouth shut though. More than anything else, she was frustrated and upset about everything revolving around Vlerion.

“Also, my lord,” Frayvar said, “would you and your men like something to eat or drink before returning to your headquarters?”

The two lower-ranking rangers looked wistfully toward the gate. All the taybarri did too. More than Levitke and Crenoch whuffed with enthusiasm at the thought of breakfast.

“No,” Targon said firmly, pulling himself onto his mount. “We have work to do.”

He considered Kaylina. She braced herself, expecting him to command her to report to headquarters for training that she was not in the mood for.

“You stay here, Korbian. Out of trouble, out of sight, and, hopefully, out of the mind of anyone important.” Targon waved vaguely toward the royal castle. “In a few days, I’ll let you know if you’ll be permitted to continue training with the rangers.”

She blinked, at a loss for words. Seconds before, she’d resented the idea of being ordered to come train, but it sounded like he was considering kicking her out. Or… if the prince became ruler, was he a known misogynist who would forbid women from being in the rangers? If so, would Sergeant Zhani also be kicked out?

“Levitke.” Targon clucked toward the taybarri, as if she were a simple animal. “Come with us. Korbian won’t need you for a while, and other rangers probably will. I expect trouble to break out.” He looked toward the city streets and the bridge crossing the river. “Any time now.”

As the rangers rode away, Levitke hesitated and looked back at Kaylina.

She wanted to ask the taybarri to stay, enticing her with honey drops, though she doubted bribes would be needed. Levitke was a loyal friend and had helped her numerous times now.

Another lump formed in Kaylina’s throat at the thought of losing Levitke as well as Vlerion.

“It’s okay,” she made herself say. “He’s right. I need to stay here and work on the business. Frayvar’s had to do everything by himself lately.”

“That’s the truth,” he muttered as Levitke whuffed softly—in acknowledgment?—and padded off after the other taybarri. “Though Sevarli has been really helpful. We might need to promote her.”

“Why don’t you ask her on a date?” Kaylina asked, though her brother’s love life was far from the top of her mind at the moment. “I think she’d be delighted.”

“A what?” Frayvar looked blankly at her.

“Are you sure you’re a genius?”

“Grandma always said so.”

Kaylina rolled her eyes.

As she started through the gate, the sentinel spoke into her mind. I have received an update from he who planted his seed in your mother’s garden.

Kaylina halted. My father?

Yes.