Page 68 of The Crown of Moonlight
I push Bramble to follow, my mind racing and only half aware that the Shadehound from the village has picked up a friend and they are both running behind us.We pass the old church at a canter and approach the birch-covered hills that slope down almost to the water.
A heavy drizzle begins, with clouds blotting out the moon.It’s too dark for the pace Flora has set, so I urge Bramble to catch up.Flora refuses to look at me until I reach for Eira’s reins in desperation and pull her to a stop.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” I say.
Flora draws her dagger and presses the blade to my wrist until I drop her reins.
“Were you ever going to tell me?”she demands.
My heart thuds heavily.“Tell you what?”
“That you’re the rebel king masquerading as a Rider.”
The oathbands constrict in warning—a brief moment of ice and fire in my veins.I can’t ignore them, but I know Flora won’t betray me.Drawing a deep breath, I search for an answer that they will let me give her.
She stiffens in the saddle with every passing moment I don’t speak.Picking up her mood, Eira paws at the ground, the bit jangling and dripping froth as she works it with her tongue.
“You don’t even have the courtesy to admit it, do you?”Flora snaps.“So much for truth and honour.But at least help me understand.Does a would-be king outrank the Master of the Anvar’thaine in Tirnaeve?What about a messenger?The king’s errand boy?”
The oathbands clench again, and the pain is nothing to the shame.I say the words I’ve already said to Flora too often.Words that won’t change what’s done.
“I’m sorry.”
““Apologies are meaningless.I can understand why you might not have wanted to tell me at the beginning.But after I healed you?Haven’t I proven you can trust me?”Flora’s eyes grow colder.“The Camhrain sentries recognised you, didn’t they?You stopped them from saying it aloud, just like you tried to stop Mairi’s father from taking a knee when he recognised your sword.The king’s sword.”
“The Sword of the Anvar’thaine.TheMaster’ssword.”
“And am I the only fool who doesn’t know the rebel king is the Master of the Anvar’thaine?”
“Does it matter what people call me?I’m still myself.Still king of nothing.”
I want to remind her that she said she knows who I am—regardless ofwhatI am.That’s not fair, though, and I know it.
I should have found a way to tell her I’m oathbound to win the throne.Until this moment, I didn’t know how much her acceptance matters.How much I care that she sees me for myself.
She’s thawed the ice I’d built around my heart and made me dare to feel again.
I hate that I’ve hurt her.That I’ve lost her.
“I wish Ihadtold you.I thought there was too much danger—”
“For me?Or for you?”Flora snaps.
“For both of us.”
Nothing about you being here is safe.Not for a single soul in Alba Scoria.”She nudges Eira closer, until we’re stirrup to stirrup and our knees are touching.
I feel the fury rolling from her.The Shadehounds growl behind us, and the wind rises, rain-soaked and edged with smoke.
“This,” Flora continues fiercely, “thisis the exact reason why it’s impossible to trust an Ever.You don’t lie, but you aren’t honest.Not because you can’t be.Not because of oaths or promises.Because youwon’ttell the truth.You dole out information like sweets to small children, and you expect us to be grateful for the crumbs.”
It’s the pain behind Flora’s rage that makes my heart ache.
After Culodur, I swore I wouldn’t drag anyone else into danger for me.That I wouldn’t cause more pain.That vow means as much to me as the oaths that bind me to the Anvar’thaine.
I’ve seen the damage Vheara and I have done to Flora’s people and the others in Alba Scoria.What my father has done to them.Still, the oaths that bind me to my uncle are a leash I cannot shake.
When Flora confronted me in the woods, I was fighting not to have to kill her.I tried to save her, and instead, I’ve taken away nearly everything that she cared about.
