In all my time with the Coracks, I'd never heard Tenger apologize for anything. He considered apologies a weakness, intolerable from a Corack. So if he was saying these things, then it was part of his calculation to get Kestra on his side. Which he absolutely needed now.
"But it was your intention to kill me." Kestra's tone was flat, as unemotional as her expression had been. "Both of you."
"Not me," Trina said. "I asked Captain Tenger to let me do it because my plan was to spare you."
Kestra didn't react to that, though I did believe Trina. If she had wanted to hurt Kestra, she'd had plenty of chances before last night.
Finally, Tenger bowed his head to her silence. "The Coracks are at your service, my lady. We remain devoted to the cause of ending Lord Endrick's reign. Simon, if you ever want to come back, we will have you." He gave me a meaningful look, then he and Trina left. At least he had meant what he'd always said, that he would serve the Infidante, no matter who it was.
Kestra immediately turned to me. "What did he mean, if you want to come back?"
"I left the Coracks." I kicked at the ground, a habit that was starting to wear holes in the toes of my boot. "I can't continue to follow Tenger, not after last night."
"What will you do now?"
"Help you, of course."
Her eyes softened. "That's not your role, Simon. We both know that."
I shook my head in anticipation of her accusation. "Whatever you're thinking--"
"Last night when you came onto the stage, your tunic covered the handle of your sword."
"It came untucked."
"Your wrapping around the sword's handle came loose too. Your tunic covered it ... deliberately. Why did you cover it?"
I didn't want to discuss this, not now. Maybe not ever. "I'm not--"
"There are three people who are forever connected to the dungeons. All are referenced in the dungeon prophecy."
"One to Vanquish." Reaching out, I tucked a loose strand of hair behind Kestra's ear. "That's you, born into the dungeons. The third line, One to Fall, was fulfilled by Trina last night when she failed to claim the Olden Blade. She lost her mother to the dungeons."
"And you were the first to escape them," she said. "One to Rule. Simon, that's you."
Worry seeped into my chest. "Don't choose me, Kes."
"I don't have to. You've already been chosen."
I refused to look at her, but couldn't suppress the stiff rise and fall of my shoulders. She wasn't guessing. Somehow she knew.
She continued, "The exiled ruler of the Halderians was King Gareth. After you escaped from the dungeons, a man you called Garr took you in, even adopted you as his own son. Before his death, he gave you everything he had: his home ... his sword." Her eyes met mine, perfectly calm, fully in control. "His legacy."
"No, he didn't mean--"
"His ring is in your satchel--why else would I have traded away my mother's necklace for it? And that's why you have his sword, and why you hid it last night. Why don't you want the Halderians to know he anointed you as king?"
"I'm no king. Nor do I have a drop of Halderian blood!"
"And I am an Infidante with the blood of their enemy. When I complete my quest against Lord Endrick, I will name you king. You have some time to get ready, but not much. I intend to complete this as soon as possible."
Shaking off her threats to have me crowned, I stepped closer to her, cupping her cheek in my hand and wishing it could remain there forever. How could she not understand how little I cared for the throne, and how much I cared for her? She leaned into my touch, placing her own hand over mine. I said, "If you have a plan, let me help."
"I want that," she whispered, and her other hand wrapped ar
ound the back of my neck. "It's all I want. But I have to go alone."
My brows pressed together. "Go where?"