“I have been cruel, too.” She just couldn’t remember it, and she hated this absence in her mind, this gaping nothing where memories ought to be. With every passing moment, pieces of her past broke off into oblivion, leaving her less than she’d ever been before.
“We don’t know that it was really you—”
“It was,” she said. “There is no need to assign the blame to someone else. I accept what I’ve done and I will live with that burden for all of eternity.”
“Have you accepted it?” He stood close—so close she could hear his heart pounding—and his hand still rested on her arm, though he didn’t seem to realize it.
She pulled away, leaving his hand stranded midair. “I don’t want to discuss it, Prince Rune. This isn’t the time. Besides, you have a wedding to prepare for.”
His hands dropped to his sides, a look of naked dread crossing his face.
“You don’t like her,” Nightrender said.
“There are things I like about her. She’s clever, resourceful, and determined. Those are admirable qualities.” His gaze drifted downward, toward the glow of the stairwell archway. “Most royal matches are for politics, not love, and I never expected to be an exception.”
Hollow sadness bubbled in Nightrender’s chest, but she forced it back down. There was no reason for her to dislike this match.
Even if he was her soul shard—
You know he is. The voice slithered in the back of her mind.
Yes, she knew he was. There was no other reason she would have reacted so strongly when he’d been in danger, and no other explanation for her utter relief when he’d survived. He was part of her.
He just didn’t know it.
But what did it matter if he married anyone? She’d been telling the truth earlier, about it not being a romantic attachment. So why did she care?
“You don’t have to marry her.” Nightrender clasped her hands behind her back.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Of course you do.”
His tone turned earnest. “No. Not if I want to do what’s best for Caberwill. The kingdom can’t take much more of this war. It needs to end, once and for all. Isn’t it better if we can end it in an alliance, rather than in bloodshed?”
“You know I want the fighting to stop,” she said. “Only then will we all be free of the Malice.”
Prince Rune offered a hopeful smile. “Yes.”
“Of course, you intend to make war with Ivasland.”
“They assassinated my brother. They broke the Winterfast Accords. They will not be reasoned with.”
“So it will be a slaughter. Caberwill and Embria against Ivasland.”
“That is the way alliances work.” He closed his eyes, as though he knew what needed to be done but couldn’t say the words out loud.
“Your alliance could march with me into the Malice instead. We could push back the rancor once again, strengthen the Malstop, and give your union with Embria a true opportunity to work.”
“Doesn’t it matter to you that Ivasland is breaching the Winterfast Accords?” he asked.
“Of course. But the Incursion is already upon you. It should be prioritized. And there are penalties outlined in the Winterfast Accords for a kingdom that violates it. Travel restrictions. Tariffs.”
Prince Rune pressed his mouth into a line. “I have always tried to protect my kingdom,” he murmured. “I failed with my brother. I almost failed with Princess Johanne. I will not fail again.”
“There are many ways to protect your kingdom, Dawnbreaker.”
His eyes lifted to hers. “I don’t command the army.”
Nightrender waited.
Prince Rune gave a long sigh. “Very well. I will try. Tomorrow evening, after the wedding, I’ll ask my parents to redirect the Caberwilline army to the Malstop and end this Incursion. Perhaps Embria will agree, as well.”
A strange stirring filled Nightrender’s chest. Hope? “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I hesitate to admit this, but I fear what will happen if I must go alone. I fear that I will fail. I fear that Salvation will be like the rest of the world, nothing but darkness.”
“Oh, Nightrender.” His heart was pounding louder than his whisper.
She pressed on. “And still, my memories are vanishing, more and more every moment.”
“We should figure out how to restore them, or at least save what you have left,” Prince Rune said. “Perhaps Dayle has something in the temple library—”
“I am the weapon,” Nightrender said. “First, I must fight. If we succeed in driving back the darkness, then I will gladly accept your assistance for myself.”
“You don’t have to be so selfless.”
“Yes, I do.”
Neither of them had moved for several minutes, and the stairwell was growing stuffy with their breath and the unpleasant stench that clung to her clothes and hair and skin. Even so, she wanted to remain in this moment, just the two of them standing close together.
Nightrender broke away from him and started up the stairs again. She glanced over her shoulder. “You know Princess Johanne lied.”
A deep unease rolled off the prince in waves as he started to follow her again. “About what?”
“There was no weak spot in the malsite. She didn’t escape the way she claims to have escaped.”
“But she did escape somehow.” Prince Rune’s words echoed off the stone walls as they climbed. “And it doesn’t change what I need to do.”
“Be careful. That is all I ask.”
“Why don’t you trust her?” Prince Rune asked. “Because she lied? I lied to you, too, remember?”
That was true, and she would not forget it. “Trust my instincts, Prince Rune. I’ve seen many liars with many motivations. Both you and she hid something, talked around the truth, dissembled—but she means harm. I know it.”
“All right. I will be careful.” He met her eyes. “Come to the wedding.”
“I’ll take the anthill.”
“Nightrender.” He said it with feigned exasperation.
“I’d rather go into the Malice alone.”
“I need you.”
“You do not.” She opened the door to her room and stepped inside. It was cleaner than before, the floor scrubbed and the walls covered in beautiful tapestries. There was a bed now—canopied and overflowing with pillows—and a large wardrobe and chest. “You do not need me, Prince Rune. Not for this. Humanity has only ever needed me for one thing: killing rancor. That is what I intend to do.”