(Chapter Seventeen: The Eld Sword, cont.)

  Leo heaved a sigh. “I keep thinking about the curse on the doors, about great power and great bloodshed.”

  “You have great power already,” Ean pointed out.

  “Not like this,” Leo said. “The sword… it wants to be used. I felt it as soon as I picked it up.”

  Ean had felt it too, a thrum of something ancient and ominous.

  “The old legends say that King Demos struggled with the blade,” Leo continued. “That madness and bloodlust nearly overcame him. After he fought the Horned Elves, he had the sword locked away, but even then, it plagued his dreams.”

  Ean glanced over to the bundle tucked under Leo’s bedroll. “Can you feel it now?”

  “No, not if I don’t touch it. And I think… I think it would only get bad if I were to use it. It felt dormant in my hand, like it was sleeping.”

  “So, we keep it wrapped and don’t use it,” Ean said. It sounded like an easy solution to him.

  “I don’t plan on using it.”

  Ean sat forward at the tone in his voice. “What do you mean? Who else would use it?”

  Leo hesitated, then said, “The Scholars, when I met with them, asked me if anyone intended to use the sword. I promised them that we didn’t, so they voted in our favor. But as I was leaving, Cirocco pulled me aside and asked one question. He asked, ‘How will Westenvale believe it is truly the Eld sword?’”

  Ean felt a burst of vindication. He knew the Scholars had caused Leo’s anxiety that night. But he didn’t understand the question.

  “I assume you’ll show the sword to Westenvale,” he said.

  “We didn’t know what it looked like until we found it,” Leo said. “Westenvale won’t recognize it, and they’ve invested decades of time, and tens of thousands of soldiers, and who knows how much gold into their search. They won’t believe us. They won’t want to believe us. Rather than admit they’ve lost, they’ll accuse us of bluffing. Which means our show of force would have to turn into proof of force.”

  Ean shifted against the wall. Leo made a fair point; one he hadn’t considered. If Westenvale thought it was a trick, the King would have to prove his claim was real.

  “Would he attack with it?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Leo said, quietly and confidently. “He wouldn’t want to, but he is a good king. A king who puts his people above all else, even above his own wishes. He would use it to prove it is the Eld sword.”

  “If he did, that’s his decision. Not yours.”

  “But if I give him the sword, I also give him the curse. That would be my responsibility.”

  Leo closed his eyes for a moment, the decision clearly weighing on him. Ean didn’t know what to say to that. He wished one of the others had woken up. The Prince was asking questions of politics and philosophy and ethics, and Ean wasn’t trained in any of those subjects.

  Leo let out a ragged sight and turned to stare out at the night. The moon lit the side of his face. Ean could see a bit of the King in him—the shape of his nose, his high brow. It was a strong profile, but one he hadn’t grown into yet. Leo raised a hand to swipe at his eyes.

  “Are there any other options?” Ean asked.

  “I don’t know,” Leo said miserably. “Maybe we could put it back and say it wasn’t there? Or we could hike further into the mountains and re-hide it?”

  “We could,” Ean offered, though privately he doubted it would work.

  “No.” Leo shook his head. “There’s no chance of it now. We’re on the path I picked, and all we can do is follow it.” He gave another sigh, this one less ragged but more resigned.

  “For what it’s worth,” Ean said, “I don’t think there’s a better one.”

  “Well, let me know if you see one.” Leo gave Ean a small smile. “What does your teacher say? You can’t climb the mountain from the top down?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Leo nodded. He leaned back against the wall, seemingly finished with his existential crisis. Ean glanced at his bedroll, wondering if he might be able to go back to sleep.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Do you get along with him?” Leo asked abruptly. “Your teacher, that is.”

  Ean tipped his head to the side, not quite sure of the question.

  “It’s just… he killed your mother. And the way you described her, I doubt she did anything worth getting killed over.”

  “I used to think the same thing,” Ean admitted. “But… looking back, I think she might have.”

  Leo’s eyes widened.

  Ean crossed his legs and pulled the blanket tighter around him. He hadn’t told anyone the clues he’d pieced together, after years of straining his memory for any hint of his mother’s crime. He was surprised at how easily the story left his lips.

  “My mother took on an apprentice when I was six or seven. Her name was Rhona. She was a soprano, talented and pretty, but na?ve. We had stopped in Forrester for a series of performances, and there was a man in that town, a low ranking noble. He was handsome and charming and had a reputation of dallying with young girls. He’d parade them about, make spectacles of them, all while promising marriage and riches and undying fealty. And they believed him. When he tired of them, he’d publicly discard them and move on to the next. If they petitioned him for the support he promised, or if they fell pregnant and demanded compensation for the child, he would debase them in court, accuse them of lying, and strip them of everything they had. Sometimes he’d go farther than that.”

  Leo made a noise, one of discomfort and condemnation.

  Ean realized he was clenching his fists and forced them to relax. “Rhona missed a few performances, and my mother went looking for her. When they returned, Rhona was crying and shaking, and they both had blood on them. We left the city that night, even though they were booked until next week. Later on, there was news that the man was dead. I think she might have killed him.”

  “It could have been in defense of her friend,” Leo said.

  “If it had been self-defense, the Umbrus Jury wouldn’t have approved her case. Felix has never taken an unsanctioned assassination.”

  “But he killed your mother. How can you not hate him?”

  “I did at first.” Ean thought back to those early days, the anger and fear he’d felt in equal measures. “I tried running away a dozen times. I even tried to kill him once. But after I while, I realized that being angry at him was like being mad at the dagger that had killed her. She was going to die, one way or another. He was just the instrument that was chosen. And death by his hand was preferable. If a sell-sword had been hired, it would have been a longer, more painful death. Overall, it was the best option.”

  Leo thought for a moment then said, delicately, “I don’t think I agree with you on that.”

  “I didn’t think you would,” Ean said. “You have some pretty idealistic views of the world. Any grand ideas to outlaw shadow-walking when you become king?”

  “I might.”

  Ean sat up straight, startled. He’d been facetious with the question, not actually meaning it.

  Leo noticed his surprise and leveled a severe look at him. “If the court is doing its job, there won’t be need for shadow-walkers. Innocent women wouldn’t be ruined, your mother wouldn’t have had to kill a man to protect her friend, and you wouldn’t have been turned into an assassin.”

  Ean bristled at the criticism in his voice. “That all sounds well and good, but courts are expensive, and the rich buy the verdict they desire. Shadow-walkers give power back to the people. I’ve taken no more than a sack of apples to kill a rapist because justice needed to be served, either in the court or outside of it.”

  “Was it justice when you tried to kill me?” Leo challenged.

  Ean shook his head. Leo’s case was an anomaly; the only time he’d ever taken a contract without approval from the jury. “No. But that—”

  “If every shadow-walker takes even one such case in his lifetime, how many innocents are dead? Aren’t you perpetuating a system of violence?”

  “Even the courts have sentenced men later proven innocent,” Ean argued.

  “The courts have a system to allow for appeals, but you aren’t part of that. What sort of king would I be if I continued to let a guild of assassins run around unchecked, killing people without an official trial, and kidnapping orphaned children to turn them into murderers?”

  Leo was using Ean’s story against him, to prove that he’d been abused or dealt a bad hand. Anger flared in his chest. Ean had accepted his fate, and even more than that, he’d been successful in it. Leo was taking that away from him.

  Ean leaned forward. “Until every man, woman, and child are afforded the same rights and liberties under the law, and until the law has been proven to be just and untainted by corruption, there will always be those who are oppressed and those who are the oppressors. As long as there are victims, there will be shadow-walkers to avenge them and give them justice.”

  “It is the duty of the courts to punish the guilty,” Leo said. “And not only to punish them, but to prove that punishment is deserved. If shadow-walkers have their own unregulated court system, and can chose not to abide by it, as you yourself did when you tried to kill me, then you aren’t interested in justice.”

  The reminder of his actions stung, like a slap to the face. “You speak of government as if it is some pure and sacred calling, incapable of being corrupted,” Ean shot back. “But when men are given power, they will do all they can to expand it. How many kings and queens have overtaxed the people of Eastmere or suppressed their voices? How many have drafted men into armies to fight wars that benefitted nothing but the king’s treasury?”

  Leo looked away, but Ean continued. “And sure, it sounds like you will be a fair ruler, but can you say the same for the children you might have? Or if you die on this quest, can you say the same for your successor? Will he care for justice?”

  “Will he care if his citizens are trying to sleep?” Asali cut in from her bedroll, voice sharp with annoyance. “Save the philosophy for tomorrow when we have nothing but snow to see.”

  Ean opened his mouth, not ready to abandon the debate. Asali picked her head up from her nest of blankets and sent a glare so deadly he and Leo immediately fell silent. She grunted in approval, rolled over, and went back to sleep.

  Ean drummed his fingers on his legs, his mind racing with all the fallacies of Leo’s arguments and how he could pick them apart. Leo frowned at him from across the alcove, no doubt rehearsing his own debate. Neither of them said anything.

  Ean huffed out an agitated breath and returned to his bedroll. It was only sheer force of will that kept him from tossing and turning in restlessness. Instead, he stared at the black of the cavern ceiling and pulled in measured breaths until his thoughts slowed and sleep finally came.