Krujha felt relieved, too—it seemed Alwyn would not be made a martyr after all, though he wished the elven king would just say as much. However the king planned to use them, he would do so happily if it meant at the end that Alwyn could go free.
“Of course,” King Ruven agreed. “I will need to consult with only my most trusted advisors regarding this, but we will arrange something. For now, High Sorcerer, you are to continue your interactions with the Mage Princeps as usual. And I trust I do not need to tell you: say nothing to him about this meeting.”
“Yes, your majesty,” Alwyn answered, lowering his head.
Though they weren’t outright in trouble, it all still left Krujha unsettled. He had no desire to let Tessarion escape whatever judgment the king deemed fit for him, but he couldn’t quite wrap his mind aroundwhyall of this had happened the way it did.
“I will contact you when we are ready,” the king continued. “For now, you are dismissed.”
“Thank you,” Alwyn said, standing to his feet while keeping his head bowed low.
“Yes, thank you,” Krujha echoed, as he did the same. Together, they backed out of the pristine office. The same guard was waiting for them in the hall, and he gestured for them to follow. Alwyn’s legs were quaking with effort by the time they’d descended the various staircases that led them down to the foyer and out to the courtyard; Krujha kept his hand on the elf’s back to help support him as they walked.
Luckily, the carriage was still waiting for them, and this time Alwyn made no annoyed comment about being able to walk. Krujha helped him climb in, then followed, ducking his head low to squeeze inside.
“That was... enlightening,” he finally said as the cart started on its way, rocking with movement.
“Let’s not talk about this now,” Alwyn said faintly. Krujha blinked, surprised, then nodded with understanding. The king himself had worried about Tessarion’s eyes and ears in the castle. Now he felt some of the same paranoia, wondering if even their carriage driver could be reporting back to the Mage Princeps.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. Krujha turned the situation over in his mind, wondering what the king intended to do with them and with Tessarion, and why Tessarion might have put Alwyn in this position in the first place. None of the conclusions he reached seemed like ones Alwyn would be happy about.
When they arrived back at Ferym’s home, neither spoke until they were back in Alwyn’s room, the door shut firmly behind them.
“I truly had no idea Tessarion hadn’t received those orders from the king,” Alwyn said, his voice a low whisper. He sat on the edge of his bed, visibly tense, as Krujha leaned against the wall across from him, trying not to betray his own tension.
“I believe you,” Krujha said, nodding. “I never doubted that part, Alwyn.”
“But I just don’t understandwhy,” Alwyn continued, drawing his knees up to his chest and curling in on himself with a miserable expression. “Why would he take it upon himself to do this?”
For a moment, Krujha was silent. That was exactly what he had been thinking about, too. “I have some theories, if you want to hear them.”
“Yes, tell me,” Alwyn said quickly. His eyes were wide and hopeful as he looked up at Krujha. But Krujha sighed, knowing how easily that hope would be shattered.
“I think he had every intention of letting you take the fall for this,” he forced out. Alwyn’s shock at the suggestion was obvious and visceral—he physically flinched as Krujha said it. “I think if you hadn’t been injured and had gone to see him first, before the king could summon you, he would have acted as if he had never given you those orders, then turned you over to the king himself. The fact that you didn’t obey—something he had taken for granted—was the only thing that stopped that from happening.”
“No,” Alwyn said quickly, shaking his head. His eyes had become huge and glassy. “He… he wouldn’t do that. Why would he do that?”
“Didn’t you say that before you were sent out, you were being punished for failing a previous mission?” Krujha said softly. “It could very easily have been part of that. Or maybe he was just done with you, Alwyn. From everything you’ve told me about him, that doesn’t seem out of the realm of possibility… to me.”
It seemedobviousto him, but he was trying to be as gentle as he could, knowing how Alwyn still held the Mage Princeps in such high regard. He couldn’t understand why, for a dozen reasons, not least of which was the curt summons that he had sent to Alwyn. The healer had sent a reply that Alwyn was still too injured to go, and Tessarion had not come to check up on him, nor even deigned to answer—as if he didn’t even care how grievously Alwyn had been hurt.
Alwyn had always spoken of Tessarion as his mentor, but Krujha had the distinct sense that he saw the Mage Princeps as closer to a father figure. Even with the little information he had, it appeared painfully one-sided; yet Alwyn only now seemed to realize the same thing.
The elf was sitting very still on the bed now, brows furrowed and mouth pressed into a tight line, as he processed Krujha’s words. When his eyes started swimming with tears, though, Krujha felt his own heart shatter. It needed to be said, but seeing how it devastated Alwyn made him want to crawl into the deepest hole and never return.
“Alwyn,” Krujha said softly, his voice pained. He knelt down in front of the elf, their eyes level now, and stretched a hand across the space between them. He almost grasped Alwyn’s hands, then thought better of it, coming to rest on his thigh instead. “I’m sorry, spitfire. I know you looked up to him. But I don’t think he had that same regard for you.”
All at once, the elf seemed to fall apart. The tears that had been brimming in his eyes now spilled over in a flood, and a heaving sob burst from his mouth.
“I’m so stupid,” Alwyn cried, tears rolling down his face. “All this time—I thought—I thought—”
“Oh, sweet one,” Krujha murmured, and all at once he was on the bed beside Alwyn, holding him tightly to his chest. He could feel his shirt growing damp with tears where Alwyn clung to him. “I know. I’m so sorry.”
“You were right,” Alwyn said, the words bitter and muffled against his shoulder. “Everyone could see it, but me. How could I have been so blind?”
“You were a child,” Krujha said fiercely. “You needed guidance, and you trusted the only adult giving it to you. That’s not your fault. It could never be your fault, Alwyn.”
Alwyn nodded silently into his shoulder, though his tears continued. Krujha hugged him as tightly as he could, still mindful of his wounds, wishing he knew what to say to take his pain away.
