War of the Princes 03: Monarch (28 page)

Chapter 46: Change, For Better or Worse

Icy rain fell in sheets over the steepled rooftops of Caraway. The touch of the air was colder than a mountain lake. They called it
‘winter,’ like it was an old foe who returned every year to do battle with them. Even in the keep, citizen and soldier alike wore heavy woolen coats, and scarves of a thousand different shades looped around every neck. While the civilians were drab and rough spun, the Hussars
were
color. Swaths of fabric looped over their armor in the brightest of hues, and off-duty soldiers were easily as well dressed as nobles.

Droplets pattered against the window where I sat with my head propped against the frame. From my lofty perch high among the towers of the keep, I could see much of the city below. Figures leaned against balcony railings. Automobiles plowed through the puddled streets, carriage horses shook off their coats in their rigging, and streams of people bobbed down the byways, covered by dirty parasols and umbrellas. Fog crowded the corners of the glass, summoned by the warmth of the small, iron fireplace in the corner of the room. I used my finger to streak curling shapes across the damp surface, and stared off at Caraway.

“What are you looking for?” Rune's hands were linked behind his back.

We were in the medical wing at Dylan's bedside. He'd been healed by Kyle, along with the Hussars we'd fought.
The one casualty of the encounter was the Hussar that Dylan had flung off of the balcony. I wasn’t certain I could count the two Empty that had perished, because they had died long ago. Kyle had ordered that all of their remains be buried with honor. As of yet, Dylan had not awakened, and considering how badly he was injured, I wondered if he ever would.

“
You,” I smiled and rose from the windowsill seat to put my arms around him.

Our hosts had supplied us with fine, fresh clothes, but because we were not soldiers of their kingdom, the garments were mu
te of any vivid color. I was in beige and cream, a combination that made my hair look like the dark adversary of a sweet day. A long-sleeved shirt beneath a corset coat kept me warm, as did the stockings beneath my draping skirt. I would have preferred pants, but I picked my battles. There was nothing they could say to separate me from my orange scarf. After what they'd seen me do in the ballroom, no one was willing to press the matter. My scarf and boots remained.

Rune's clothes were black and shades of brown that were nearly as dark. Maybe they dressed him in black to remind them of his nature as a Dragoon, or maybe it was a simple coincidence. Either way, his double-breasted vest, with its many buttons, was incredibly flattering on his physique.

He leaned down to kiss me, and warmth tumbled down my body. I wondered how I could have ever let the Spark take control of me when I had such a bright future to look forward to. After using the Pull to connect me more directly to my control over the Spark, and using raw energy to cushion my fall and send me soaring up to the height of the balcony, I couldn't relinquish my command of it. My Ability fought against me when I tried to send it back to hibernation. It was unsettling. Losing control like that could prove to be a deadly error. It had only recessed sometime after Kyle had accepted his role as Prince Varion.

Once he'd healed Dylan, Rune, and the other soldiers, Kyle had been taken away in a
great procession. That was a day and a half ago, and I hadn't seen him since.

“
How are you feeling?”

I slid back down into my seat.
“I'm fine. I think.”

“
What you did back there, I've never seen anything like it.”

“I scared myself.” It was difficult to admit. “I don’t know what’s come over me. Ever since we left Breakwater, I’ve
wanted
to fight. It’s like something is taking me over. I’ve changed, and I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

Rune nodded patiently. “It’s revenge.”

“Revenge? What do mean?”

“We were taught all about it in training. Because Dragoons have no bonds with one another, it is an emotion I had never felt… until Lina.” He grew quiet for a moment. “Hussars, on the other hand, are extremely vengeful. We needed to learn about such responses to foresee retaliatory attacks on the battlefield.

“Hest killed Sterling, and herself along with him. You had no one to fight but a prince you couldn’t touch. Your anger needed to go somewhere.”

“So it’s gone everywhere,” I sighed.

“Whether it is a temporary reaction or a permanent change is up to you.”

What he said was impressively insightful. I took his message to heart, relieved that I might not be turning into a raging monster.

“That wasn’t the only thing that frightened me.” I leaned my head against the windowsill and looked up at him. “Have you ever lost control?”

“
Of the Sear?”

I nodded.

“When I was very young. Nearly burned down a building, remember?”

“
How did you stop it?”

He cleared his throat and thought about it.
“How does a person stop themselves from doing any wrong? Willpower and understanding. Your Abilities are a part of you, control yourself, and you control that power.”

“
I lost it the other day,” I admitted, glancing back out the window. I didn't want to see any disappointment in his eyes.

“
I know.”

“
Why didn't you say anything?”

“
What could I have done to help? Controlling your Abilities is something that no one else can do for you. I knew you'd bring yourself back. You always do. If the Spark could truly take you over, you would have burned yourself out and died with Stakes.”

His calm mention of my
brush with death echoed familiarly in the tone of his Dragoon training. I didn't care. He didn't need to pad his words with me. “Burned out? That can happen?”

“
Abilities are like any physical action, exert yourself long enough and you'll exhaust your body. Most people will become too tired to form their Ability at that point, but few have learned to push through the fatigue. It should never be done. Ever. If you use an Ability beyond the limits of your energy, it will begin to feed on your life force. Suicide fighters have done this in battle, but both kingdoms discourage the action. No one should take their own life when they can still fight, and no one should ever die of their own Ability.”

“
That's horrible!” I blanched, remembering too well the burning sensation just beneath my skin. “Is that what was going to happen to me?”

“
I don't know. You're a Lodestone. I can only guess the limit of your energy. It's vastly higher than my own, I can tell you that much.”

I looked at him through the corner of my eye.
“And you're okay with that?”

“
Why wouldn't I be?”

“
Some guys don't like being with a girl who can beat them up.”

“
Their loss,” he grinned and squeezed my waist. “Besides, Abilities are the least important aspect to any battle.”

I gave him a fox's smile.
“Says the weakling.”

That made him laugh.
“Exactly.”

“
How's your side?”

“
Like nothing happened at all. The Empty didn't hit anything vital, so the healing went quickly. I don't think it will even scar. We owe Kiteman a great deal. It must be taxing, healing us so frequently.”

“
He's a Lodestone.” My smile was thin and nostalgic.

Rune folded his arms and looked out the window.
“Or a prince.” The way he said it was cool and contemplative.

“
I just can't bring myself to believe it. Even knowing what I do.” I picked at the torn end of my orange scarf. The edges were beginning to fray all the way around. We weren't so different, the scarf and me. “Maybe Kyle is related to him somehow. If Varion really did die, it could explain why the Pull led to Kyle instead.”

“
Trust your instincts, Kat. What do they say?”

I didn't
want
to trust them. It was true that I'd found Block instead of my mother. It proved that I could be manipulated or tricked into finding the wrong person, but whenever I thought about my mother instead of the specific code name I was given, I'd turned back to Haven. At times I’d wondered if I was losing control of my Ability, but it turned out that I’d been right all along. Professor Block was Paperglass-To-Be and my mother sat in Haven, no doubt furious that she'd lost me as a resource when I'd gone out on my own. What did my instincts say?

Kyle is Prince Varion.

Still, it called forward too many impossible questions. It insinuated betrayal. What if he'd always known? What was he?

My discomfort
burgeoned until it began to affect me physically. I didn't feel comfortable at the window seat anymore, no matter how many pillows I sat upon. I was freezing cold, even wearing my trim coat. I couldn't answer him, so I asked a question instead.

“
How are you handling all of this? You've been forced to fight in this war for most of your life and now we're having tea with your enemies and debating whether
Kyle
is Prince Varion.”

Rune stiffened at the reminder of his origins and relationship with the North. He rubbed a hand against his forehead and exhaled. Had I pushed him too far?

“I'm not the same person that I was.” His eyes searched the world outside the cold window. “I can't allow myself to feel fear or anxiety or anger. If I do, I'm afraid that I'll lose myself. Being free, trying to learn to live normally again, it hasn't been easy. I want to be who I was before I was recruited for training, but I'm also a Dragoon. Dylan was right– that is an inescapable fact. But the choices I make in life, I want them to be mine– the real me, not the person who took orders without question and marched against cannon-fire.

“
I won't allow myself to hate these people because of what was done on a battlefield. I won't allow myself to hate Kyle if he is Varion, because... maybe he's like me. He could be struggling to reconcile two lives.”

I could tell it wasn't easy for him to say the things he did.
“I hadn't thought about it like that.”

“
The Hussars, many of them know what I am now.” His eyes drifted back to mine. “They haven't killed me. They are great in number and proud to represent their capital. It wouldn't take much to ambush me in the night, or poison my food. But they haven't done it. I would have never thought them capable of mercy. It seems we may not have been as different as I first thought. Everyone is worthy of a second chance. If all of the people of the North and West had the same patience and restraint, there might be hope for a united future.”

“
Rune, when we arrived they beat you unconscious.”

He brushed it off like it'd been nothing serious.
“They were under orders.”

Under orders by Headly... and Deasun.
“When the General came to us, I sort of... shocked him across the room.”

Rune's eyebrows lifted.
“You're aggressive for a diplomat.”

I almost laughed, but not quite.
I
was the punch line of that joke. Lord Brendon should have never made me ambassador or emissary. “I thought he was going to kill you.”

“
You shouldn't worry about me.”

I gave him a flat look.
“With what had happened, how was I supposed to do that?”

“
I don't worry about you, I believe in you.” He ran a hand through my hair, and let it drift to my shoulder and down my arm. I lifted my hand to clasp his, and his smile was faint and serene. “And you should believe that I will never let anything keep us apart.”

Inside I melted like a block of ice left out in the sun. I felt myself smile.
“And if I was suddenly struck by lightning?”

“
Nothing would happen.”

“
It's a figure of speech. If the world came crashing down around us...”

“
It wouldn't change anything.”

“
If it did, I'd haunt you.”

A grin flashed by, exposing
his single dimple. “Promise?”

Outside, the unfamiliar city pressed on in its routines without regard for us. None of them had even known there had so recently been a
battle for the throne in the keep of their capital city. None of them could know that somewhere above, despite the worst circumstances, a girl named Katelyn Kestrel had been made blissfully happy by the words of an ex-soldier.

“
Would someone mind explaining to me,” Dylan’s voice creaked like worn floorboards. “Why I'm naked without intimate company?”

I peeked around Rune to see a bare-chested Dylan scooting to sit upright in his bed. Warped metal twisted from one of his collarbones, the only ugly feature of his physique. I rubbed my eyes and leaned against the window seat in relief. We hadn't lost him. My joy was so focused that I nearly cried. It was Dylan, and sometimes I really hated him
– but sometimes I didn't. I was glad he was okay.