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“I have always been grateful for your forgiveness. But I fear neither you nor I have the power to absolve each other. Only the gods can do that.”
“Is that why you pledged yourself to Andragathos? Because you were trying to atone? I think not, Benedict. I think the real reason you made a vow to your god is because you aren’t like your father. You want to protect others. To be needed by someone.”
“I deem this quest to Orthros a worthy fulfillment of my promises. I am not afraid to lay down my life for the gods. I may yet be called upon to do so, if the mages of Anthros are right about the Hesperines’ intentions.”
She was losing him to his own conscience. Time to win him back. Nothing short of the truth would be enough. It was time to counteract Chrysanthos’s revelations with her own. For Benedict, hers would be far more powerful.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Why shouldn’t I be?”
“When we saw Alkaios,” she said, “I know what you were remembering.”
“Fearful memories often come to mind in spite of us, whether or not what we see before us should remind us of our own experiences.”
“You are too hard on yourself, Ben.”
At her use of Genie’s affectionate name for him, his hands stilled. “It is wiser not to think of that night, much less speak of it.”
“Why? We are no longer children. We need not be silent. In fact, I think we need to stop being silent.”
He turned the amulet again in his hands, and again. “The catapults.”
“Yes.”
“Gods.” He closed his fist over the amulet. “The thought of catapults must mean something entirely different to you.”
“Yes. When I think of catapults, I think of the ones that fired my sister’s body over the walls. I know you think of the king’s catapults, which hurled fire upon the ramparts where your father stood.”
“We truly should not speak of this.”
“I never saw my sister’s body,” she went on. “Did you see your father’s?”
Benedict looked away. “No. The king does not allow traitors a blessed burial.”
“Sometimes what we imagine is worse than what really happened.”
“Nothing could be worse than the truth we must live with. I am so sorry.”
“You have no reason to be sorry. You were only eight when you watched your father dance the Autumn Greeting with my sister. In Bellator and Solia’s betrothal promise, you saw nothing but your own bright future. You would not merely be the next Free Lord of Roborra, but a prince. Best of all, you would have a mother again, and what a kind and loving one.”
“You needn’t remind me.”
“No, I think I must. Tonight is one of those nights when we must remember.”
“There’s nothing more to be said about it.”
“But there is, Ben. You don’t know everything.”
His gaze snapped up, and he looked at her with furrowed brows. “What can you mean?”
“You weren’t at the Siege of Sovereigns. As we all know, you were safe in the care of Lord Titus’s family, which saved your life. Whatever else can be said of your father, he loved you and wanted to keep you safe, to give you a good future. He succeeded in that.”
Benedict let out a bitter sigh. “How can you say one good thing about him?”
“Because you’re sitting here next to me.”
He would not meet her gaze.
