Page 150 of Queen of War and Ruin

“I know,” Elrick says, almost gently. “But you have a life now, don’t you?”

I don’t dare look at Lilias. Telling a roomful of people what happened with Varitan was horrible; I don’t know how much longer I can hold myself together.

Weak.

Malrik’s voice whispers through my mind. I’ve always been weak. Never a fighter. Never a hero. I killed with poison, with a blade in the shadows. Because Malrik told me to. Because he threatened the people I loved, and I was too much of a coward to stand up to him.

Sure, I gave as much information as I could to Petrys, and he fed it to whoever was waiting in his dark, secret network. But even that feels weak, cowardly. Like a dagger in the night.

“I— I have to do something,” I say. My voice comes out thin and ragged, like it’s being dragged over stones.

Elrick gives me a strange look. He opens his mouth, but it’s Petrys who speaks first.

“No,” my brother says.

I turn to see him shaking his head.

“Absolutely not,” Petrys announces in a tone I haven’t heard in years. “This elven weapon, what? It rips the earth apart? Swallows armies whole?”

I nod. Petrys stares at me in a way that makes me feel every single minute of the five years he was alive before I was born.

“And you,” Petrys continues, “with your magic, can light a candle.”

“Wait,” I stammer. “The ballroom⁠—”

“No,” Petrys says again. “I saw what happened in Vsenrog. The elf attacked us, and you, what? Parried? Deflected his blow?”

I can’t even respond.

“Hells,” Petrys continues, “even if you could knock a wall over by yourself, that’s a far cry from burying an entire army. You can’t stop him, Zarek.”

“Wait—” I start.

“You wait,” Petrys snaps. “Sending you up against Vsenrog is a terrible idea, and if it was anyone but you suggesting it, I’d hit them.”

I shut up.

“We should go to Lisal,” Petrys finishes. “Like the prince suggested. There might be a way to defeat Malrik, but it’s going to take the Allied Kingdoms. Not magical parlor tricks.”

“Parlor tricks?” I cry.

“No,” Lilias says. “This is even more reason to cross Vederill Pass! This kind of magic has been used before. Someone has to remember what happened! Maybe they could work with Zarek⁠—”

“Were you even listening to his story?” Gerard interrupts. “Because it didn’t sound like that fucking elf was very keen on working with him. More like torturing him.”

The entire room explodes in frantic, shouted arguments. I sink back in my chair, exhausted.

I feel like I’ve been running for my life since I was twelve years old.

I glance at the window, at the moon’s thin smile rising above the jagged teeth of the mountains, and I wonder what it’s like to watch the moon rise over the lake by what’s left of Dungal. Would I even know it was beautiful, if I’d gone there at twelve instead of having to pretend to be a prince in a hostile kingdom? Or would it just be a lake, and just another moonrise? Would I have a wife and children, like the real prince of Dungal has now? Maybe I’d spend nights like this watching the moon rise over the lake and wishing my life had a bit more excitement.

“Zarek?” Elrick says.

I turn away from the window and run my hand over my face. Gerard growls and rolls his eyes. Lilias crosses her arms over her chest and leans back in her chair. Elrick is staring at me like he’s expecting an answer. Everyone in the room looks unhappy.

And suddenly, I realize I do know where my loyalties lie. Maybe Petrys is right, and the strange magic Varitan beat into me is nothing more than a parlor trick. Maybe it will never stop Malrik, and honestly, at this moment I’m too exhausted to care much one way or another.

But my wife is here. And I’ll support her.