Page 67 of Given

“You’re certain?”

My stomach clenched. “I only wish I had doubts. It started in the Wastes. Now it’s spreading south, disappearing in pockets. It’s happening slowly, but it’s happening.”

“How long have you known this?”

I didn’t answer right away. His gaze searched mine, and I knew the truth was already written on my face. “A year,” I said.

His expression darkened. His fingers dug into my shoulder. “You kept this from me for a year?”

I pulled out of his grasp. I didn’t have a good response for him, except that I wished I could have kept it from everyone. But my secret wouldn’t stay concealed forever. Literally, it revealed itself day by day. Eventually, someone would notice. A farmer would feel the unveiled sun on his neck. A merchant in some far-flung city would squint at the sky and never see anything else again. The lowpeople wouldn’t survive Nor Doru without the Deepnight. If the canopy disappeared, I would end up ruling a kingdom of ash and bone.

“Who else knows?” Varick demanded.

I swallowed the bile that burned my throat. “Petru. A handful of other priests from the Sanctum. They’ll keep their mouths shut.”

Varick’s face was an accusation, his mouth pinched tight and his eyes cutting me deeper than any blade ever could.

“The facts are these,” I said. “The Deepnight is receding from the north. If it continues shifting south, we’ll have no choice but to invade Sithistra. I have the opportunity to wed a halfling princess. No conqueror has ever succeeded without winning hearts and minds. Rolund doesn’t have an heir, and my spies report his First Queen is probably going to miscarry the child she carries. If I wed Given, I can promise the Sithistrans that Baylen’s grandson—a child with human blood—will sit on the southern throne someday. It’s the only way our people can survive.”

Varick’s face didn’t soften. For a long time, the crackling fire was the only sound in the room. At last, he pulled the elven blade from the chair’s arm. He kept his eyes downcast as he sheathed it, disapproval rolling off him in waves. “You should have told me.”

“I’m telling you now.”

He didn’t look up. Just stood there and braced his hands on his hips and stared at the floor like it might offer up answers to the problems boiling between us. He blew out a gust of air. Lifted his head only to tip it back and gaze at the ceiling.

I pitched my voice low. “If there was any other way, I would—” I cut the sentence short. “We could make this work. You’re not indifferent to her. We’ve shared women before. We’ll share a wife.”

He huffed a laugh at the ceiling. “So you get everything you want.”

“You think I want this? You think I want a war? Yes, my people will burn under a naked sun, but at least I’ll get some pussy, is that right?”

He looked at me. “We could have handled this together. If you had trusted me enough to talk to me, I could have helped you. But you kept this to yourself for a year. The Sanctum has no fucking clue what’s happening at the Thicket—”

“Gods, not this again.” I spun away from him and put my hands on top of my head.

He raised his voice. “I grew up on the edge of the barrier. I’ve patrolled it since I earned my spurs.” He grabbed at me. Caught my arm and forced me around. We faced off in front of the fireplace, the flames casting ominous shadows over his face. “Something in that forest has changed, Laurent. You’re so focused on the problem in front of you, you’re blind to the one at your back.”

I jabbed a finger at him. “You’re supposed to have my back! But you haven’t, because you’re obsessed with the Thicket. You spend weeks away from Lar Katerin so you can ride up and down a line of trees. You skip Council meetings. When I need you, you’re not here. So yes, I’m focused. I’m trying to save a kingdom. I can do that by wedding Given.”

Anger contorted his features. “Your perfect princess carries the taint of Eldenvalla in her veins. Putting more elven-born into the world isn’t the brilliant solution you think it is. Use your brain, Laurent, not your dick.”

“Oh fuck you. Your father was an asshole, not the dark heir to a forgotten kingdom. You’re desperate to believe you carry some kind of twisted evil inside you because it’s easier than admitting he hated you as much as you hated him. And you think if you’re special enough you might please his ghost. So make up your fucking mind, Varick, because you can’t be both. I need you to lead my army, not wander the edge of the Thicket chasing after five-hundred-year-old fairy tales!”

He stepped back like I’d struck him, his face a mask of shock of pain.

“I’m sorry,” I said. I reached for him—

He stepped out of range. For one long, trembling moment, he stared at me like I was a stranger. Then he turned and strode to the door.

“Varick.”

He paused, his hand on the latch.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean any of that.”

He spoke without turning, his voice a rumble I felt in my chest. “You’re not the only one who can smell lies, Your Grace.”

He left, the soft click of the door louder than any slam.

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