Page 103 of The Kingdom's Reckoning
She wanted to try. She needed to.
She brushed her hair behind her ear and began, "When I was under Domitius’ rule, I…I didn’t have a say in what I did, where I went, who I spent my time with. Although I could walk the castle grounds and breathe fresh air, I was still a prisoner. I had tried, though…" Her voice became thick as thoughts of her past surfaced. "I had tried to alter the king’s emotions on more than one occasion. Most of the time, especially when I was younger and didn’t have full control over my ability, it was by accident. But he knew every time. When he realized what I was doing…" Myra rubbed a hand across her neck. Her throat seized, and breathing became harder. Her skin became clammy.
Laurince reached for her, but she leaned away. He immediately retreated and gripped his knees, as if to keep himself from reaching out again.
All Myra could feel was pain.
All she could smell was whiskey.
All she could hear were insults spewed from the king’s mouth.
Arrogant, girl. You think you have power? Iampower.
"It’s all right, Myra." He placed his hand beside her, not quite touching her, but close enough to let her know he was there. "He can’t touch you anymore."
Myra nodded, but it was unconvincing.
She wanted to believe Laurince, but it was as if his words danced around her, just out of her reach. She didn’t know whether she would ever feel safe. Not until Domitius was dealt with. Not until Kalisandre won.
"I didn’t manipulate their emotions because I was afraid of what would happen. Every time I used it to fight back, it only ever made things worse," she admitted quietly, tears springing to her eyes. As she thought of her parents, of her mother’s sorrow-filled gaze when she looked at Myra before she was murdered, she could hear her parents’ screams, Mynhos’ cries.
Myra hadn’t been strong enough when she was a child to save her family. Why would she be strong enough now? When the captors came, when the man pressed a blade to her throat, she had frozen. Nothing had changed. She was still the weak and powerless girl she had been when she was in the pantry beneath the floorboards.
"You’re not weak."
Myra’s gaze snapped up to meet his. She hadn’t even realized she had said it aloud.
"I am," Myra argued. "Everyone knows it."
Laurince reached out again, his movements cautious and slow. When Myra didn’t flinch away this time, he caressed her cheek. "You’re not weak, Haze. You have spent most of your life as a prisoner, forced to make yourself small."
"I’m only a?—"
"Don’t," Laurince said, squeezing his eyes shut for a second. "Don’t say it. You are not just a handmaiden, Myra."
"Then what am I?" It was a question she had been pondering since they had left Ardentol. A question that was more for her than Laurince, but a question she craved the answer to all the same. And to her surprise, Laurince gave her one.
"You are whatever you want to be, Haze. You’re kind, caring, loyal, occasionally uptight but usually for good reasons."
A small smile poked at the corner of her lips. Laurince continued.
"You protect those you care about, even if it means risking your own life, your own happiness. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for."
"But when it mattered, I failed. When it mattered, I let fear get the best of me. My ability only hurts people," she said, voice shaking and her gaze falling to the river. The water rolled over the rocks, gliding across them as if they weren’t even there.
Laurince shook his head. "Only if you let it."
There was some truth to his words, yet she struggled to believe them.
"Look at me." He tipped her chin up with his thumb, beckoning her. "The next time you are in danger, I want you to do whatever you can to save yourself. Promise me?" With his free hand, he reached behind his back and offered her the small knife he had given her before they left Tetria. "I gave this to you for a reason, but you didn’t take it that morning."
"I’m not good at?—"
When he shook his head, she snapped her mouth shut.
"While I promise to do whatever I can when it comes to protecting you, I need to know you have a way of defending yourself."
His thumb brushed across her cheek, and Myra wasn’t sure if he even knew he was doing it. She didn’t care, though, as long as he didn’t stop.
