The question sounded flippant, but he was trying to decide what I intended to do with my newfound influence. No doubt having had to hide here in his castle while someone else led his army to war also stung. ‘It’s really more of a honorary sort of thing, your Majesty,’ I said.
He nodded at that, as though we’d come to some sort of agreement, which I suppose we had. ‘I imagine you’re hoping that I’ll go ahead with that charter you proposed? You don’t really expect me to create some preposterous “Council of Citizens”, do you?’
I locked eyes with him. It’s not as if I hadn’t considered the possibility that Filian would turn out to be faithless. I’d just hoped for better. ‘I suppose it all depends on what type of King you want to be, your Majesty.’
Trin had evidently assessed the situation and now she looked upon me with something vaguely like sympathy. ‘A King’s power cannot be circumscribed by those he rules, Falcio.’ She motioned to two of the guards standing behind me. ‘Just as he cannot allow the continued existence of those who might threaten his authority.’
‘I never looked to garner power or influence,’ I said, oddly heartbroken by this utterly predictable duplicity. ‘I never wanted songs or stories written about me. All I wanted was to bring back the rule of law. I just wanted life to be a little more fair.’
Trin nodded as if she understood – and maybe she did, in her own way, but it didn’t matter. She waved forward another clerk who carried with him an inch-thick sheaf of papers, along with a small golden tray containing a pen and inkwell. Trin took them and placed them on the wide arm of the throne. ‘This is the first of King Filian’s Laws,’ she said. ‘It revokes the rights and privileges of the Greatcoats immediately and for all time, names those who do not cease their activities as traitors to the country and orders their swift arrest and execution.’
I looked at Filian, who had taken a seat on his throne. He sat there placidly, watching the last traces of his father’s dream being wiped from existence. This was what Filian’s life had all been about: raised to believe he was destined to become King of a country that was diseased and needed swift and decisive action to cut out the infection, taught the ways of power by the incomparably manipulative Duchess Patriana and worst of all, deeply in love with Trin.
She handed him the pen and he dipped it in the inkwell. He looked up at her and I saw such adoration in his eyes. Was it magic of some kind? Spells or powders or potions administered over years to make him devoted to her? I wished I could pretend it was, but this was simply the very real love of a boy for a girl he found both beautiful and brilliant: a love that allowed him to believe she did terrible things only because this was a terrible world and a price must be paid to establish order.
She leaned over and kissed him on the lips.
‘No,’ he said.
Trin’s eyes went wide in disbelief.
Without prompting, Filian repeated the word. ‘No.’
What I saw play out on her face took any joy from the moment. All the layers of deception and guile slid away, leaving only the terrible sadness and hurt that comes from complete betrayal.
‘I thought you loved me.’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘And I know you love me, but that isn’t enough, Tarindelle. You scheme and plot, you manipulate everyone around you, even me. When I first came to Castle Aramor, you sowed the seeds of discord and fear: you made it clear to everyone that either Aline or I had to die, and in so doing you weakened this country.’
‘She was weak: a foolish girl, a child—’
‘She was my sister,’ Filian said. ‘Those few days we had together . . . I came to see how much wisdom and courage was in her. She could have helped me rule this country. She could have helped save it – and yet when she died, you laughed.’
‘I . . . Filian, you don’t understand. You don’t know what these people – these damnable, heartless people – have taken from me.’
‘I do know,’ he said, then he placed the pen down on the tray and rose from the throne. He put his arms around her. ‘I love you now as I have always loved you – as I always will love you. But I was trained to govern as a King and you would have me rule as a Tyrant.’
‘I gave you a throne,’ she said numbly.
‘And in return, I give you your life.’ He let her go and turned to all of us. ‘The Lady Trin will be leaving now. Let no one try to interfere with her departure.’
He turned back to her, his face weary and sorrowful. ‘If she ever attempts to return to Tristia, she is to be killed on sight.’
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
The Last Cantor
There wasn’t nearly as much chaos as one might have expected. Trin left with remarkable grace, probably because she didn’t much care for the alternative. Filian signed documents declaring that the agreements I had negotiated were done so on his behalf and carried the full weight of his authority. He even gave me the decree naming me a traitor as a gift.
He offered me rooms at the castle, but I’d already told the others to meet me back at the Busted Scales, the abandoned old Greatcoats tavern. Ethalia was waiting for me in one of the rooms upstairs with fresh bandages and salves to re-dress each other’s injuries. I wasn’t used to the idea of her being injured in battle, and I found the experience of treating her wounds, no matter how slight, to be profoundly unsettling. I quickly learned not to comment on it.
For my part, it turned out I’d been hurt quite badly during the three-day war, though I hadn’t noticed it at the time. My lack of awareness struck me as odd considering how meticulous I usually was about such things after a duel. Feltock had said this was normal, that soldiers often go into a kind of shock after a battle: just one of the many ways in which war is different from duelling.
Ethalia and I didn’t speak much while she was changing my dressings. Maybe I was still in shock. It’s rather hard to tell sometimes.
When she was done, I heard myself ask, ‘Do you love me?’
She took my hand and kissed it and then led me to the bed. ‘Rest,’ she said, and lay down beside me.
Rest. Such a strange word. I had slept plenty on the way back from Pertine, but I couldn’t remember the last time I felt at rest.
Suddenly it was much later, and I awoke with her head on my chest. I could tell from her breathing that she was already awake, so I took hold of her chin and turned her head up so I could see her eyes. ‘Ethalia, will you—?’
‘Don’t,’ she said.
‘I was going to—’
‘Don’t ask me to marry you, Falcio.’
I felt as if I’d just been struck with the flat of a blade. I let go of her chin and started to pull away but she caught me by the wrist and pulled me back.
‘Why?’ I asked.
‘I told you before, there are complications between us. You need time to heal, to let the weight of the world slip from your shoulders. Maybe then you’ll know what it is you truly want.’