Cormal would probably have set the country on fire, to be honest.
No one looked too worried anymore when he and Brannal spent a bit of time together, and one afternoon they actually sat in the study and Brannal voluntarily brought up the subject.
Brannal sighed. “I don’t think the parallels with your father exact, but itistrue that I hid the truth from you—although I wasn’t always certain myself, for reasons that have now become clear. I thought of everything with Perian as personal, and I didn’t consider the broader implications. Regardless, you were operating on incomplete information, and I kept what I knew from you. I put you in a difficult position—I putPerianin a difficult position. I wanted to keep him, and I didn’t think very much about possible consequences. I apologize for that.”
“Thank you,” Cormal said, surprised. “In the spirit of honesty, I think if you’d told me the truth then, I probably would have just messed everything up sooner, but thank you.”
Brannal huffed a half-laugh. “It’s all second-guessing and uncertainty, isn’t it? We can imagine that we could go back and fix everything, imagine reacting with all the knowledge we have now, but the truth of the matter is that one tweak might have changed everything for everyone, and not necessarily in a good way.”
Cormal was nodding. “I’d undo everything that happened to Perian if I could, but—”
He cut himself off as he realized Brannal might not like any conditions on that statement, but the man’s expression was thankfully not angry.
“—but if you did that, you might not have Kinan right now. In an ideal world, of course, we’d have managed that without everything that happened to Perian, but who’s to say? What if I’d been honest with Perian from the start? What if Perian’s father had been? What if Yannoma hadn’t been injured? Fire and water, what if the Great Betrayal had never happened? The world could be unrecognizable now. And since we’re flawed and human, we want all the good things we have right now.”
Cormal let out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess we do.” He swallowed. “But I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you about my suspicions. Even if it’s all just wishes and hopes now, because I would never have been calm enough to do that.”
Brannal smiled, closer to the old manner, making an ache in Cormal’s heart ease.
“And I wish that I’d taken my Secundus into my confidence. Maybe if we’d both been a little more emotionally mature, we really could have done this better and still gotten the most amazing partners ever.”
Cormal smiled back, recognizing that there was no way to know, but feeling like he and Brannal had inched a little closer to a true reconciliation. Cormal could hate himself for the part he’d played in Perian getting injured and how he’d treated him afterwards, or he could try to atone and do better moving forward. He’d made a terrible mistake, and it was essential he acknowledge it, but he was beginning to think that it didn’t have to be a blight on his life forever.
Maybe Brannal wouldn’t completely forgive him, but that was Brannal’s choice. As for Cormal, instead of being angry and defensive, he could be sincerely sorry andgrow.Because it was beginning to feel like he really had changed, to the point that even with his uncertain temper, he would never do something like that again. He’d treat everyone who acted like a person like a person, and then sort everything else out.
So Cormal was very grateful for the time that they had here, but he recognized they couldn’t hide away for much longer.
They went riding, rambled through the grounds, ate the delicious food the cook prepared, and spent another evening in the absolutely ridiculous pursuit of reading and ridiculing books with absurd plotlines.
It was more fun than he’d expected, and he loved how much Kinan was enjoying himself.
“Where did you even get these?” Cormal wanted to know.
Perian was still giggling, and Brannal had a smile on his face, looking relaxed and happy in a way that Cormal had rarely seen.
“The doctor sent the original,” Perian explained, “and she’s sent several since. I don’t think there were any hidden messages in those.”
They’d explained the book that had led Perian and Brannal to realize that Perian was a Life Mage. Cormal couldn’t really blame the woman for not trusting Cormal with the information. He had no idea if he would have believed her at the time, or if it would have done any good.
“But they do tend to be ridiculous,” Brannal said, expression droll.
“So ridiculous,” Perian agreed happily. “So then we started trying to acquire some of our own. It’s a silly pastime, of course, but it’s kind of nice in the evening.”
Brannal twined his fingers through Perian’s. “It is.”
Because Perian couldn’t go anywhere else.
Kinan really was right. They couldn’t leave things like this. Cormal hadn’t laid out the decree, but he’d certainly been pushing for it. He felt better having apologized to both of them, but that didn’t absolve him of the guilt and shame of his involvement.
“They don’t seem to be censored,” Trill observed. “This is the second time someone has mentioned Life Magic.”
Yannoma hadn’t participated in their readings, looking more confused than anything by their antics, but she hadn’t left the room, either.
She said, “I believe those who went to so much trouble to eradicate mention of Life Magic may not have considered such an… unlikely source.”
“And it could be dismissed as fiction,” Arvus pointed out. “Centuries later, it could be easy to assume that someone had exaggerated or didn’t know what they were talking about. Many don’t even know that Life Magic used to exist.”
“Do carnalions have hidden records?” Cormal asked as the thought occurred to him. “More details about Life Magic that have been lost to humans?”
