“I know. I know,” he said, glancing down at her. “And then there was the war with Valleth, and I know I didn’t start it, but I chose to fight it. I went after them. I was good at it, and I could take back what was lost, and we were going to fight themanyway. And I didn’t have anything to lose. But everyone else did.”
His brows drew together as he looked into the fire, and it was so heavy, she could almost see the burden on his shoulders, feel the suffocating weight of it on her own chest.
“Theyhad families. Lives. All those people that fought for me, all those people I killed, I sent them to fight, I sent them to die, and I killed them myself, and I did it for me. Because I didn’t want to die. I wasn’t going to run away. I was going to take it all back. I didn’t care about protecting the Empire, they let my family die. It was…convenientthat there was a war.”
The fire crackled softly.
This was not something on which she felt qualified to comment. Ophele barely felt qualified tolisten. His voice went on, wondering and uncertain, sometimes talking to her but most often talking to himself. Questioning his own motives. Wondering that he had benefited when so many others were dead. Doubting his own terrible calculus over the course of the war, by which he decided how many lives he was willing to lose.
“We had to fight,” he murmured. “There would have been a war even without me. And maybe we would’ve lost. I don’t…know. I don’t know how many died. It was twenty thousand, in the Empire. I don’t know how many Vallethi died. No one will ever know the number. But I know Ludovin is dead, and Clement and Bon and Rasiphe…and Victorin. And I thought I was right, but they’re all dead and I’m alive and now Huber…his arm,helost his arm, butIdidn’t, and I have you, and the valley, and I don’t know…I don’t know how that can beright…”
That was it. The story had not ended, but there was no more to tell. He looked at her as if she might have some answer, some wisdom, when the only thing she knew was that she knew nothing of such terrible matters.
“I don’t…know,” she began. She thought she could think about this for years, maybe her whole life, and never come to an answer that wasright.“I think…I think if it’snumbers,then you have to think about the lives you saved, too. Valleth invaded first, didn’t they? And maybe if you weren’t there, they wouldn’t have been stopped at Lomonde.”
“Juste said that too, once.”
“Well, it’s true. And Davi would be dead, and his family,” she said, warming to the counterfactual. Numbers were where she felt most comfortable. “And if Lomonde fell, how many people would have died? Valleth had already destroyed three cities. How many people died there?”
She waited expectantly. This was not a rhetorical question. She wanted numbers.
“It was almost eight thousand in Hassen,” Remin admitted. “Six thousand or so in Vielles, and I think three thousand in Bergue.”
“Seventeen thousand…” Stars, that was so many people. She had seen the twenty-three who had died of the fever, covered with sheets and arranged with dignity in the shed behind the infirmary. Twenty-three people, and she had gone to see them over Genon and Auber’s protests, and cried and said she was sorry, sorry, sorry. And many nights since, she had laid awake in the dark and wondered what she could have done to save them.
Remin had known exactly how many people died in the valley since the end of the war. Two hundred and forty-three. Plus the dead of Selgin and Isigne, that was four hundred and thirty-nine. That was so many, so many! There weren’t enough tables in the whole cookhouse to lay out so many dead. And Valleth hadchosento do that, they had chosen to do fortytimesthat. Howcouldthey? How could anyone choose to make war like that, against innocent people?
“I think the numbers are on your side, if that’s what matters,” she said, feeling hollow and furious. They deserved to have Remin come after them.
“But it isn’t,” he said. Almost as if he were prompting her, encouraging her to figure this out for herself. Or maybe even help him to understand it.
“No…or you wouldn’t have sent Rollon to Nandre, I guess,” she said slowly, remembering their earlier conversations. “Twelve men went, and only two children came back. But it was still right that they went, wasn’t it?”
“I think so,” he agreed. Rollon had volunteered to go. Remin had told her about it, and told her about knighting him before he left.
“I think…Miche is right.” She chewed her lower lip. “He said people can choose what they do with their lives. You never forced anyone to follow you. Sometimes you can’t stop them even if you want to,” she added, nettled. She still couldn’t imagine why anyone would choose to risk themselves for her, particularly over her own protests. “They all had their own reasons to fight, too. Davi wanted to fight for you, because you saved his family. Maybe a lot of them fought for you, and maybe others fought to defeat Valleth. I don’t know if either is…wrong.”
“Victorin knew I was sending him to die,” Remin said quietly. “And Clement went with him so he wouldn’t die alone.”
Her throat tightened.
“I don’t know,” she repeated, reaching to touch his cheek, aching for the grief she saw in his eyes. How could something that cruel ever beright?“I guess…they loved you, and each other, and that’s why they…went. That’s why they followed you. Becausetheythought you were right.”
“Miche said something like that, too.” His arms tightened around her. “I have so much. I don’t know if I deserve it. If I deserved…them.”
This was something Ophele understood to her bones. She wrapped her arms around him.
“Then we have to earn them,” she said. Because while Remin might doubt the work of his hands, it was the effort that showed the worth of his heart.
Chapter 9 – Small Blessings
…sopleased that we shall meet! Do you know, I think it is exactly what Laud needs. Last year all he could talk about was how much he wanted peace and quiet, and if you ask me, it was the worst thing for him. Grumbling all day and up all hours of the night, as if he couldn’t sleep for all the rest. I tell you, he has been a new man ever since we got Remin’s letter asking us to host you for the season.
This was putting the best possible face on a terrible and likely dangerous imposition. Ophele sat back to appreciate that bit of Duchess Ereguil’s letter, marveling.
We sent people straightaway to begin readying our estate at Mimosa. It’s a lovely place, named for trees imported from Ereguil, with flowers like pink silk floss. I must beg your pardon for a little bit of presumption; I am sure the Princess Ophele will have any number of tailors, jewelers, and shoemakers assaulting each other for the privilege of drapingher, but as time is short, I judge it good to give them a little notice. By the time you arrive, half the bloodbath will be over.
That is to say, as I am sure you are concerned about very many things: my dear, you may show up on our doorstep in your morning gown and slippers, and we will be ready to receive you.
