Kestra had saved me from the worst of the white disk’s consequences. Yet in an entirely different way, I still felt split in half. Based on my surroundings, it seemed that I was now recognized as a king, a title that no more described me than had I been declared ruler of the imaginary Bingebrushies. The other half was simply a boy who’d seen far too much for his years yet was still too young to have any idea what to do now. I was part of the rebellion, a protector at times, and a fool more often than I wished. But I was no king.
Gerald was my first visitor of the day, meeting me in my chambers since the Halderian doctors had apparently asked me not to move about more than was necessary. I had no intention of ignoring them. Moving felt roughly akin to running a saw through my shoulder. I was far from healed.
He sat in a chair next to my bed and smiled over at me. “King Simon. It feels right to call you that.”
“I never wanted … I don’t want …” I abandoned that argument. There was no point in debating this with Gerald. “How is Kestra?”
“She’s recovering elsewhere. She’ll be all right.”
But something was wrong. The tension in his voice revealed that much. “Gerald—”
“She is not your concern any longer. The Halderians are your people now.”
“She’s my main concern, and my people should feel the same way. We need her!”
“No, they need you.” Gerald lowered his voice, trying a more reasonable approach. “Since the war’s end, the Halderians have been scattered, hunted … broken. And surviving only because they hold to the belief that the Scarlet Throne should be theirs and will be again one day. You must give it back to them.”
“How? I am a king with no history, no gold, no claim to the throne other than I happened to be plucked half-dead off a roadside by the right man. We both know I shouldn’t be here.”
“Yet the people will bow to you.” Gerald leaned forward. “Give them a reason for it. Love them, serve them, and give them hope for the future.”
I closed my eyes again, sensing the direction of this conversation. “Kestra is our only hope, not me. The people must know that.”
Enough silence passed that I finally looked at him again, and when I did, I observed a sincere sadness in his eyes. “My king, she cannot be allowed to remain here. Surely you understand why.”
I did understand, in ways I wished I didn’t. And in ways I didn’t dare explain to anyone else.
Except that Gerald already seemed to know. In a near whisper, he said, “While you’ve been recovering, you’ve repeatedly murmured a distinct word in your sleep: corrupt.”
My eyes darted away from him. “Who else heard?”
They closed entirely when he murmured Harlyn’s name, adding, “She’s barely left your side. My king, why that word?”
I paused, trying to swallow a lump that had formed in my throat, then finally gave up and said, “I don’t know exactly what Kestra did after she pulled me from that river, but for a while, we shared a piece of each other’s souls. I don’t remember most of it, but I remember sensing that it was already …” I hesitated again. I didn’t want to think of what I’d felt from her.
“Already corrupting?” Gerald nodded, answering his own question.
In those few seconds between us, I had felt bound to her, wrapped in warmth and love and her unparalleled strength to hold on to me. I’d reached back for her, but instead found a piece of soul that was ice cold, a piece that was dead and spreading. It had frightened me then, and chilled me now.
Gerald continued, “Every time she draws strength in from others, she pulls a portion of themselves to her. Imagine if she ever attempted to do that with someone truly evil, such as Lord Endrick himself.”
“It would shatter her.” After a pause in which I had to force myself to breathe, I added, “We must find a way to heal it. We’ll start by keeping her here, around good people.”
“The people saw what she did, and they are grateful. But if they were wary of a Dallisor girl, imagine how they would feel to see her now: an Endrean with exceptionally powerful magic, abilities that will make her the sole target of Lord Endrick. If she remains here, the Dominion will return and destroy whatever we have left.”
“We will have nothing left if she fails!”
Gerald nodded, though he clearly didn’t agree. “It’s possible to make the wrong decision, even for the right reasons. Be wise instead and trust her to leave. If she is strong enough to challenge Lord Endrick, then she can defend herself out there.”
“Yes, but the greatest danger—”
“The greatest danger may be the people here who have repeatedly sought her life. Imagine how quickly the Halderians will try again if they believe she is corrupting and if she has any influence over their king.”
“Then I won’t be king!”
“Who will replace you? Commander Mindall, whose first order will be the same as his last, to find and destroy the Infidante? Execute Mindall and another one just like him will take his place.”
I sighed. “I won’t lose her, Gerald.”