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17
BRAXTON
“Evanna is my last chance at redemption…”
The pain that exuded from Kingston with the words echoed against my skin, and allowed a deeper look into his soul. I wanted to ask why he thought he needed absolution, but I knew better than to press a man to reveal his demons. The way his eyes looked beyond me to somewhere only he could see, told me the answer would come to me on its own.
“I was a sentry of the Dark Empire.”
Holy hell.
My blood ran cold with the statement, but I remained silent, giving him a chance to speak. I didn’t want to judge him, he was doing enough of that himself.
“I come from a long line of natural born warriors, and at seventeen years old, I was already the leader of my own battalion. We trained from the age of five in the art of battle, our skill and agility unmatched across the realm. An exclusive legion tasked by the gods to safeguard and serve the Devenish family.”
“Were you born free?” I asked tentatively, wanting to get the truth dancing around his words.
A burdened breath left his lungs as he shook his head. “I was born into servitude like everyone else, trained and taught to enforce the ways of the Dark Empire. To blindly obey the Warlock King.”
“You were as oppressed as they were, Kingston. If not more, because you were never even shown any other way of life,” I carefully countered, trying to make him see that the choice was never truly his. “You couldn’t have—”
“I followed him blindly!” he roared, shame, anger, and regret bursting out of his being. “I ripped away every freedom our people deserved, because the Warlock King wanted it so and I was taught to obey without question. I oppressed them, punished them, and tortured them, following his orders as though he was our God. I was the perfect sentry. Everything he did to us, his guard, I inflicted it onto our kin too.”
His muscles shook with the rage coursing through him, but I knew it wasn’t directed at me. He hated himself for what he had done.
“Were you guys tortured too?” I asked, catching on to his words, and he blinked, forcing himself to breathe.
“That is of no importance.” His statement was firm, but his demeanor said he hadn’t meant to reveal that to me, because the atrocities he committed should be more important than those done to him.
“Yes, it is. Did they torture you guys too?” I pushed; although I was certain he wouldn’t answer.
Swallowing, Kingston dropped his gaze to his fisted hands, embarrassment engulfing his features. “We had scheduled‘conditioning sessions’, where we were beaten in order to learn to endure pain. They were meant to toughen our bodies and strengthen our resolve… When I finally began to question what we were doing, to realize the true atrocities he was inflicting on both us and his subjects, myconditioningevolved, and they introduced fire into the sessions.”
My eyes lowered to his trembling hands as they opened, revealing disfigured palms. His fingertips were gone.
How had I not noticed that before?
Pain rushed through me, clogging my throat, and I reached for his hands, gripping them fiercely.
“It wasn’t your fault, Kingston,” I spoke slowly, punctuating every word with the urge to get him to see how wrong he was. He carried the shame and guilt all abuse victims carried, one that was not theirs to bear. It wasn’t their fault to have been abused, but they rarely saw it that way.
“You don’t understand!” He wrenched his hands from mine. “I am telling youIwas the monster. I did those things to my own people. I chose to be who I was, to honor Raithian’s ruling—"
“No, you didn’t!” I argued.
“I beg your pardon?”
“You didn’t choose that, Kingston. You were never asked as a child if you wanted to hurt, torture, or enslave people. They didn’t explain to you what that was, and you were definitely never given a choice. They raised you up to think that was normal, and what you were doing was right. You never decided to oppress those people, in fact, you fought your own men during the uprising, didn’t you?” I questioned, remembering Evie’s story.
Half the guard had turned against their comrades, fighting to liberate the others among the mayhem.
He hesitantly nodded, hands fisting again. “When my battalion saw me act against the injustice, they began to fight with me.” The man who spoke those words seemed so small, as though he was ashamed of even doing the right thing. Or perhaps, of doing it too late.
“Andthatwas your choice,” I revealed what he had been too blind to see. “When you finally saw a different way, you chose to set them free. You chose to help and protect those people, and by doing so, you gave your men a path they never had before. That’s what matters. The man you were, the one who followed the Warlock King died there, Kingston. You were born again. You have protected and risked your life for everyone in this mountain, including Evanna, countless times. You trained a new army, fought every battle, and lost many men in the process, but you keep choosing to do the right thing.”
He regarded me for a moment, and then got to his feet, erasing the emotion from his face. “Get up,” he growled, his scowl returning.
Fine, so I didn’t exactly expect us to hug and sing Kumbaya together, but a little acknowledgement would have been nice. “I thought we were having a moment,” I mumbled, standing as he’d ordered.
