Until Doran had come along. Doran had needed a friend as badly as Ash had needed food, and Ash had given him both. He’d still told himself he didn’t need a family when they’d walked away together. Now he understood what he’d been too blind to see before. Doran was his family, and his best friend. He was everything six-year-old Ash had believed a family should be. They had looked out for each other; although, on most days, it had been Doran looking out for Ash more than the other way around. He still didn’t add anything useful, just as his mother had always said.
Now Ash could do something to help Doran. He wouldn’t walk away from this family.
He read over his notes again to make sure he hadn’t made any mistakes. It was a crude draft in need of refinement, but it was a good sketch for now.
Merchants, especially wealthy ones, held grudges like it was sport, and Maksim Kult was one of the richest men in Vaska. He would come after Ash again while they both lived. Ash wasn’t a murderer, but if he did nothing Kult would send more and more men after him until Ash was dead.
He shouldn’t have sold Kult the explosives, but he had. This was his fault. He had to fix it.
Naavah Ora could do what was necessary. Ash wanted to be braver and embrace life more than he’d done in recent months; Kult was a good place to start.
I needed my family’s help, but when I told them what I’d done, they were furious. Ellasan banished me. Valynaan vowed to destroy me and lead her armies against me if she ever saw me again.
My first regret had cost me so much already. But there was one more thing I could do.
My second regret.
Chapter 52
Levi
Levi sat at the roots of a tree and watched Doran from afar. He was relieved Doran would let him help. Levi knew what it was like to be in a dark place—only Levi hadn’t had anyone to help him out of it. The Elders had dragged him down until he’d almost drowned, just giving him enough air to keep him afloat long enough to do it again.
It wouldn’t be like that with Doran. Levi wouldn’t let it.
Ash was sitting over some drawings Levi didn’t understand, and Naavah Ora was focused on her book. If she’d found anything, her face didn’t show it. She leafed through the pages, often not stopping for long enough to read everything before moving on. Ash looked like he was plotting something. Levi could guess what it was, but it wasn’t his business. If Ash needed to get revenge, then Levi wouldn’t get involved.
For years, the Elders had held him prisoner in their village without Levi realising it. They had tortured him, bled him until he could barely stand, and trained him just so they could sacrifice him. Shouldn’t he want revenge? Every time Levi thought about his time in the village, he was conflicted. It had been his life for so long—longer than Hjeva had been. The Elders had raised him longer than his own parents. Did that make them his parents more than his biological family? The world swayed under him.
“How are you doing with all this?”
Levi’s head jerked up. He hadn’t noticed that Doran had walked over to him.
“With us challenging the spirit army?”
Doran sat next to him. “With everything that’s happened since we left Vasael’In.”
He ran his hand over the grass under him, felt the bark against his back. Would the corruption affect them too?
“The Elders wanted to use my blood to raise the same being that’s corrupting Naavah Ora’s spirits and that’s known throughout Ceidir and Vaska as the Blood King. I have to help.”
“That’s not what I meant. How do you feel? Isn’t it overwhelming? I don’t know what to make of what’s going on most of the time, but I wasn’t as involved as you were.”
Levi frowned. “I wasn’t that involved either. I had no idea what they were going to do.”
“I’m sorry,” Doran said. “That came out wrong. I meant I’d understand if you felt conflicted. How long were you in that village?”
Levi didn’t want to think about it. “Ten years.”
“See? It’d be understandable if you were confused by what’s going on. The cultists in that village nearly sacrificed you.” A dark, faraway look clouded over Doran’s face. “If they had, we’d all be dead now.”
“But they didn’t, because you saved me.” Doran smiled. “As I said, I didn’t know what they intended to do with me. I only knew I was to die. The girls were told their deaths would ensure a good harvest. How was I to guess my blood would strengthen a spirit who wanted to take over their realm and overthrow an elven god? Should I feel guilty about something I didn’t know?”
“No,” Doran said. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I guess it’s your turn to save me.”
Levi grinned. “That’s only fair, after all the times you’ve saved me.”
Neither said a word. Levi didn’t mind; it was nice just to be near him.
“You’re right. I am conflicted. I’m not sure who I am anymore.”
Doran moved closer. “What do you mean?”
It had bothered him for days, but he hadn’t been able to put it into words until now. “When I was in the village, the Elders told me I needed to be a strong warrior, not a weak child. That the child I was when I came to them was dead. It was like a mantra for me. A strong warrior, not a weak child. Over and over again. It gave me strength when I didn’t think I could be strong, but they only said it to use me. It was a lie.”
“It doesn’t have to be. You can still be a warrior, Ginger. Just not theirs.”
“Then whose warrior am I?” He wanted Doran to say he could be his warrior, but the words needed to come from Doran. It wouldn’t be the same otherwise.
“You’re your own warrior. You don’t belong to anyone but yourself. You don’t owe anyone anything. You fight because it’s the right thing to do. You defend yourself because you don’t want to die.” Doran hesitated, and their eyes met. Dark brown against his bright blue. “Do you?”
“No.” Levi shook his head. “Not anymore.” But that wasn’t right, either. He’d never wanted to die. “In the village I thought I should want to die, because that’s what was expected of me. I always wanted to live, I just couldn’t tell them. They bled me more when I did.”
“Ancients, Ginger. I’m glad I crashed their party when I did.”
“Me too.”
They smiled at each other, and for a moment Levi allowed his mind to wander. How would it feel to be comforted by Doran’s arms? They were so much stronger than his.
“There’s no shame in being a warrior,” Doran said. “It can still be your mantra. You can use it to defeat the bad memories they gave you. This didn’t turn out like they wanted, but you can still use what they taught you. I’ve never seen anyone ignore pain the way you do. I’ve never seen anyone fight with two daggers the way you do.”
At the mention of pain, Levi studied his hands. When he’d cut himself in Alt Võina, had he really not felt the pain or had he learned to ignore it? The cuts were faded now. If he didn’t know the scars were there, he wouldn’t notice them.