No mountain he’d climbed was high enough, no battle he’d won was notable enough.He was a child again, trying to disappear into the shadows, surviving off scraps of kindness.
He swallowed.“What would you have me do?”
Lyanthis gave him a brittle smile that spoke of victory but not pleasure.
“Break her heart.”
Chapter 22
Two days passed like a year.
The bond lay still, like water on a windless day, reflecting Bastion’s thoughts back at him.Lyanthis’s parting words stuck in his mind, each one a barb that only dug deeper when he tried to pry it from his skull.
Sever the bond.Set her free.
Bastion hadn’t formally returned to his duties as Endre’s bodyguard, and he had nothing to fill his time.So, he did what he always did when he needed a distraction and lost himself in practice, drilling until his muscles screamed and his body shook with fatigue.
Then, a summons came.
The messenger, well-trained and aloof, gave no indication of the cause.Bastion followed him to a more bureaucratic part of the palace, curiosity turning to apprehension.When they turned the corner, and Bastion saw Endre and Nesrin outside the council room, his stomach swooped like he’d missed a step.
Nesrin, dressed in a loose shirt tucked into high-waisted pants, leaned against the wall opposite the doors, as still and stoic as an oak, with her arms folded.Endre paced.
That was never a good sign.
At the sight of Bastion, Endre dismissed the messenger.For a moment, the three of them stood in silence.
“The entire council is in there,” Endre said at last, his voice tight.
“Why?”Bastion expelled the word more than said it.The blood beneath his skin pulsed.
“A hearing.About your knighthood.”
Bastion glanced at Nesrin, who hadn’t moved.She regarded them from beneath her lashes, as though she were unsurprised, but a vein throbbed in her neck.
“It makes sense,” Endre continued.“In wartime, you would likely fall under one of the council members’ commands.My father thought they should be part of the decision since your situation is–”
“Unprecedented,” Bastion cut in.
A pained expression rippled across the prince’s face.Then, his shoulders sagged.“They won’t let us come in.”
Bastion nodded.He knew that they were too close, too personally invested, but still.He would have liked to know someone inside had his back.
Bastion ran his hands through his hair, his fingertips catching the texture of the ridges along his skull.His heart banged against his ribs like a fist on the doors while they waited.Through the windows at the end of the hall, the sun shifted.
Endre continued to pace, a sharp staccato echoing through the hall with every step he took.Nesrin remained unmoved, a tree determined to grow moss.
Finally, the doors opened.
Bastion’s insides squirmed.He glanced at Endre and Nesrin, who were both doing a poor job of concealing their worry.Then he took a deep breath and grasped the pommel of his sword, taking comfort in it as he had before so many other battles.
When he entered, the low murmur of voices ceased.
At the far end of the room, past pools of sunlight falling from skylights, the monarchs sat on a low dais.Queen Thyra’s presence was a welcome surprise, though he’d rarely seen her in such meetings.She wore a gown of cloth-of-gold, and he felt her warmth from the door.Beside her, the king wore blue and gold and a simple circlet.Bastion had been to enough meetings like these that the sight of it meant King Torvald expected resistance.
To either side, two long tables funneled him towards the dais.Council members watched him from their seats, their expression ranging from curiosity to annoyance.It took more effort than he cared to admit, but Bastion kept his head high and his spine straight.Among those assembled were Lord Kyrith and the rest of the war council.He passed Captain Hanniel and Lord Lawrence.Neither reacted, but the sight of them sent a thread of relief shooting through Bastion’s body.Nearest the dais, Lord Valin and Master Lyanthis sat across the aisle from each other, both watching Bastion approach with differing degrees of acrimony.
The doors closed with a snap, and goosebumps raced from Bastion’s heels to his neck.He imagined this was what it felt like to step into a colosseum.Between two pools of sunlight, he stopped and bowed.
