Page 289 of Mother of Death and Dawn

I was dumbstruck. I never thought Tare was especially— well, especially anything. Apparently I had underestimated him.

“How?” I asked. “Zeryth wanted to see a body, didn’t he?”

“Little blonde girls die all the time. Accidents damage bodies.”

He said this strangely matter-of-factly.

“I thought for a long time about whether I wanted to tell you this,” he continued. “I thought, maybe it’s better for her, to live a simpler life than this. But… she always wanted to rule. She believed she could make this country better.” A small, proud smile ghosted his face. “Even so young, she wanted that.”

I had to sit down.

This was a lot to digest. But already, the gears were turning. I would have to see what Tisaanah thought. Sesri was, of course, too young to rule now—she never should have been handed the throne in the first place, though of course we knew now that that was very much intentional. But if we were to bring her home… if we were to reintroduce her slowly… if we were to raise a senate to support her, and balance her…

I blinked away the slew of thoughts, looking back at Tare.

“Did it occur to you,” I said, “that if I was in any way inclined to steal a throne, I would be the single absolute worst person you could bring this information to?”

Tare smiled at me. “Yes,” he said, and left it at that.

* * *

The Roseteeth Companyremained in the city long enough to help us clean up the wreckage. Several weeks later, they eventually departed. I asked every Roseteeth soldier I encountered about Brayan, but none of them knew where he was, only that he had sent them here.

A part of me was grateful. A part of me never wanted to see him again.

And another part of me did.

They departed early on a cold morning, their gold sails disappearing into pre-dawn mist on the horizon. Before the final ship left, a soldier I’d never seen before slipped a letter into my hands and walked away before I could say a word.

I couldn’t bring myself to open it until later that night, Tisaanah beside me, the two of us reading it together.

Max -

I hear you won. Good.

I know there are some things I will never understand. But I will also never stop trying. How can I?

I am sorry for all the ways I failed you, and I am sorry for the way I will fail you now, when I write that I cannot see you again.

The house is yours. The title is yours. The paperwork is in order. Do something great.

I

Here there was a scribbled sentence, violently slashed with ink so many times that I couldn’t even begin to make out what it had once said. Then:

You are still my brother.

One day, maybe.

Not now. I just can’t.

Until then, live well.

Brayan.

I read this several times, my chest tight, unsure of exactly how to feel.

“It is the best he can offer you,” Tisaanah murmured, after long minutes of silence. “It’s him. Not you.”

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