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“What do you meanacceptit?”
“You know what I mean.”
I lean back again, eyeing him. His eyes drop to the half of toast left on my plate and when I don’t say anything, he asks, “Do you remember when the Whisper Grove army saved you from Buckley?”
“What the hell is going on here? You’re the second person to bring up Buckley today.” I take another gulp of whiskey.
“But do you remember?”
“Of course, I do.”
“You were so angry. You trusted no one,” Manx says.
I don’t say anything, but I do watch his face, the way it crumples with concern. “I remember thinking there was no saving you. Getting into fights with everyone. Running away from Maeve’s. But I promised your mother I would look out for you…and I did. I still do, right?”
“At times.” I smirk.
He cracks a smile, folding his hands on his lap. “I remember the boy who lived on the border of Whisper Grove and Blackwater—the free spirit who was full of life. With eyes as blue as his mother’s, and a heart of gold. I suppose your heart would be more of steel now,” he chuckles.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “What are you getting on about, Manx?”
“I’m just glad you didn’t turn out to be like your father,” he murmurs, and hearing that causes me to sit back again, slowly, as I watch his eyes. Where is this coming from? “I know Blackwater is tough terrain, but I see a much bigger difference now that you’re in charge compared to when he was in charge. And your mother, she would be proud of where you are now and all you’ve overcome. Just remember to keep that promise you gave me.”
“To never be like Magnus.”
“You’ve kept your promise thus far. Keep being the change Blackwater needs. With Willow at your side, perhaps it’ll become easier to attract peace in your territory.”
“Perhaps,” I mumble.
Manx smiles, then he looks toward the bar, at Harold who is looking between us. “Right. Well, The Council is waiting for me,” Manx says, standing. “And don’t you worry. I’ll be vouching for you. I’ve always hated Rami.”
I huff a laugh as he turns away. “Oh, before I go.” He faces me again, digging into the pocket of his jacket and taking out a brown pouch. “I was hoping to run into you sometime. I’ve tried your transmitter but hadn’t gotten contact. You probably won’t need these, but it’s more protection morsels for you and Willow. I wish I had other ways to help you than these gross things.”
I take the brown pouch from him. “Thank you, Manx.”
“Always.” He leaves the pub, and when he’s gone, I turn my head to look at Harold again, who is avoiding looking at me now.
Putting my gun away, I turn in my chair to face the bar and ask, “Harold, do you remember my fight against Dimitri?” and Harold lights up, rushing back around the counter to my table again.
“Do I? You practically murdered him!” As he gushes about the fight—one of the worst ones of my life that I almost didn’t survive—I remember one thing Manx always told me. He said to never let my pain fester. If it does, it’ll stink up the whole place and drag around me like I’m carrying a dead body, and who wants that weight?
I’ve done it for years—allowed the pain to swallow me up, weigh me down—and it has only caused me trouble. Perhaps he’s right about Willow. With her in Vakeeli with me, things can change. Peace can come, and the solution to our problem isn’t far away. My visit with The Council has declared it, no matter how unsettling. I do this for them, and awakening Selah canremove Decius. Willow and I can be ourselves, no one hunting us, tormenting us. We’ll be free of the burdens of this Tether. We’ll be able to be together, prospering as one. For the first time in my life, there’s hope.
My traumas are mine to deal with, and I won’t be someone who passes those traumas on to someone else, like my father did to me. I suppose to be a great monarch, you must be willing to sacrifice, and if my pain is what has this Harold stranger smiling and reliving what were probably wonderful days ofhislife, so be it. The change starts now.
Seventy-Seven
WILLOW
By nightfall,we’re moving out. Juniper helps me with my weapons at the car before we leave, and instead of having Veno tag along, Rowan drives through Vanora to get to Beatrix’s.
“Ugh,” Rowan groans. “I have a bloody headache.”
“How much tonic did you drink?” Maeve asks from the passenger seat.
“Too much.” Rowan cracks a smile at his mother. “Got to dance with those Vanorian girls, though, so it was worth it.”
“Oh, keep driving,” Maeve hisses, swatting at him.
