He shrugged. “That’s what I hear every time they call me Summus. And I don’t blame them for it.”
She was looking at him weird again. “You know, I think you’ve been lobbing far fewer fireballs than even I realized.”
He let out a huff of laughter. How had he managed to back himself into a corner and not realize that it was the worst life ever? He’d thought it was the only choice. Why hadn’t he thought about what Brannal had done, about how they’d backed him into a corner and he’ddissolved the walls.
Clearly, Cormal could have done a lot better to follow Brannal’s example. But maybe it wasn’t too late.
“You’ve got an uphill battle,” Delana told him.
“I know,” he agreed. “But I don’t just need to try, Iwantto try.”
She nodded. “All right. Well, if you need backup, let me know.”
“Thank you,” he said, touched. “I think this is something I need to do on my own, but if I realize I’ve miscalculated—which, let’s be real, is all I’ve done for months—then I’ll know I can count on you. And”—he looked her squarely in the eye—“I don’t think I ever said thank you for sticking with me. Even though I was wrong, and you weren’t afraid to tell me that. But you didn’t abandon me, even though I deserved it. Thank you.”
She patted his cheek.
“If I gave up every time you did something dumb, we’d never be friends.”
He scoffed and couldn’t help but smile at her, knowing that was her way of saying that they were going to stay friends. Heneeded to do a better job of earning it, though, and not simply expecting her to carry the load of supporting him.
“Well, I really appreciate it,” he told her. “And I’ll try to be a better friend. Maybe just… dunk me in the moat if I’m beingsodumb that I’m in danger of destroying everything.”
Delana laughed outright. “Oh, you think that’ll work? I’ll remind you of this moment, and you’ll be all, ‘Oh, right, I totally said you could dunk me in the moat, let’s do this thing, and I won’t throw fireballs at anyone.’”
He was laughing helplessly now. “Yes, yes, do that. That’s absolutely how it will go.”
She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling, and he was glad that she knew him so well. She reached out and squeezed his arm.
“Seriously, if there’s anything you need, let me know.”
He nodded. “I will. And same for you. I think I made everything about me for a long time.”
She nodded, considering him for a moment. “Don’t think I don’t know who makes sure my schedule is aligned as much as possible with Onadal’s.”
He gave her an innocent look. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She smiled at him. “I’ll see you later.”
He was possibly the only person in the castle who knew for absolutely certain that she and Onadal were definitely in a relationship—because he’d walked in on a scene that had made this explicitly clear.
He’d kept his mouth shut, and he hadn’t engaged in any of the endless speculation that was rife through the castle. He always acted like it was beneath him to speculate on such things—why would he care?—and he’d apparently done a convincing job of it. He ran interference, when it looked like he could help, and he’d let them live their life.
If he were being perfectly honest, he’d been a little envious that they’d managed to quietly achieve a perfectly functional relationship, but more than anything, he wanted Delana to have that.
She’d apparently noticed. Maybe he was only amostlyawful friend.
Before he tried to talk to anyone else, he needed to get through more letters and reports. He did still have a job to do, even if part of him was chafing at doingany of itnow that Kinan had pointed out that it wasn’t actually something he had to do. Part of him wanted to run to the Queen and resign this instant.
But Molun hadn’t been totally wrong, either. Cormal had been thinking about what he wanted more than he’d been thinking about the consequences of those wants. He might not be the best choice for Summus, but hehadaccepted the position. Leaving the Mage Warriors in the lurch didn’t show that he was doing anything smarter or wiser or more caring, now did it?
Maybe he needed to start a little smaller. He’d see if he could convince one other person that he was genuinely sorry for what he’d done. It might be cowardly, but he was still feeling a little bit… bruised by the encounter with Molun, so he started with writing a letter to Nisal. Maybe it was the fact that they couldn’t yell to his face, or maybe that he would be putting his best effort in and then wouldn’t have to hear what they thought about it immediately (or ever, if they decided not to respond to him).
But it was useful to put his thoughts on paper. He tried to frame it in terms of any direct harm he’d done to Nisal as well as their friends. Maybe their decision to leave the Mage Warriors was a coincidence—or maybe Cormal’s actions had been the main reason. He hoped they were happy with the Mages, and he made sure to indicate that the Mage Warriors were the lesser for their absence.
There. It wasn’t perfect, and it might not get any sort of result, but therewassomething about actually saying the words—or putting them to paper—that made him feel better. He hoped this wasn’t just an exercise in him trying to make himself feel better. He wanted to make the others feel better, too, although perhaps that was just wishful thinking on his part. Had the damage that he’d wrought been too powerful?
He hoped they at least wouldn’t assume like Molun that he was up to something again. Well, only time would prove that wasn’t the case.
