Chapter Text
It wasn’t until they embarked on the return Indio crossing that the high began to wear off.
The final confrontation with Celestine had been many years in the making, and the dragons’ arrival had turned it into even more of a spectacle, but that hadn’t pushed Destin over the edge—and though his heart soared at the sight of Evan alive and well, he had managed to keep his head straight through that as well. He stayed calm through the assessment of Splinter’s injuries. He remained composed while the others regrouped and prepared to fly back to the wetlands in search of Queen Alyssa.
Only once he was airborne again, the ocean breeze rushing through his hair and stinging his eyes, did Destin’s nerves catch up to him.
He and Evan were riding double on Splash, as Splinter’s wings were still recovering and they didn’t want to risk him carrying too much weight. Destin had expected that there would be an issue with the number of passengers on the ride back, as there would be another two humans in their group and no fewer dragons, but Splinter’s injuries complicated the matter further. In the end, Jenna and Ash rode together on Goat while Breon and Sasha shared Pricker. The arrangement had been Jenna’s design, with the reasoning that Breon felt closest to Talbot and might want the familiarity after being Celestine’s prisoner yet again. Besides, she added with a grin, something tells me you don’t mind riding with Strangward.
He hadn’t argued, and everyone else settled themselves on their respective dragons’ backs without further words. Their priority was returning to the wetlands and sharing word of what had transpired with Celestine.
Now, Evan was sitting behind him with his arms around his waist, and Destin felt every touch like electricity zipping through his body, and all of a sudden his heart was racing and his hands couldn’t stop shaking. They had managed to get to the Demon’s Wounds in time, but if they had been mere minutes too late, the magemarked would have been sacrificed by the empress.
Celestine had nearly won. Evan had nearly died. More than anything, Destin wanted to pull the pirate close and never let him go—but another part of him, one that had been buried beneath relief but was returning with increasing clarity, repeated a warning cadence in his mind.
You let your heart rule instead of your good sense.
Anyone could have seen you run to him, hold him, kiss him.
This isn’t safe for you.
Destin would never forget the feeling that something deep inside him had broken when he heard of Evan’s presumed death. It was something like faith, he thought, some belief he hadn’t known he had that this world had a little kindness left to spare for the ones who deserved it. He was aware that he’d gotten quite unstable after Lila told him the news, and that he hadn’t been much more put-together when he asked the dragons for help after learning that Evan still lived.
It wasn’t like him to be so volatile, but he had to admit that after everything he’d endured in Fellsmarch, he had well earned the right. His problem lay not in his response to the grief but in the publicity of it. In Ardenscourt, he never would have dared to put on the kind of display he had in front of the dragons, let alone to run up and embrace a boy without giving a thought to who might be watching.
His lungs felt too tight. What had he been thinking?
Evan was no ordinary boy, but he was still a boy, and Destin was all too aware of the danger in a relationship like theirs. Just because Evan seemed to have no qualms about being open with his affection didn’t mean that everyone else was as generous. Destin knew the world’s injustice, had felt it in every word and insult and blow. He refused to see it inflicted upon someone else because of his own lapse in judgment.
“Des,” Evan said from behind him. He spoke loudly enough to be heard over the ocean breeze, but quietly enough so that no one else could hear. “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” he answered without thinking. The Maker knew Evan had enough to worry about already. “Why?”
“You’re shaking.”
Destin forced his body to still. “I’m fine.”
Evan chuckled softly, with little humor. “Well, you haven’t changed a bit. You are as stubborn as ever. Stop trying to hide from me—are you all right?”
“Not particularly,” he admitted. There was no use in lying. “I told you, Pirate, I thought you were dead. I heard that you died in a shipwreck.”
“The Sea Wolf did sink,” Evan said, “but I escaped on a boat with Ash and Talbot. I’ve almost died since then, too, but it’ll take more than shipwrecks and nerve poison to kill me. I guess you could say I’ve been busy.”
Destin tried and failed to not imagine how he could have ended up dosed with nerve poison, of all things. He fought to keep that residual worry on the shelf for now. “That makes two of us.”
“And I want to hear about all of it.”
“I’ll tell you everything,” he promised, “as soon as we land safely in the wetlands.”
Evan wrapped his arms a little tighter around Destin’s waist, leaning in and resting his head on his shoulder. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Destin tried to think of how he should respond to that. The obvious answer was another reassurance that he would explain everything that had passed since they last saw each other. The expected answer was a dry remark better suited to the image he cultivated around the rest of the world. The appropriate answer, at this point, was probably silence after he had already waited this long.
Finally, he opened his mouth to speak and found that Evan had fallen asleep against his back, his embrace still and his breathing steady. Destin almost shook him awake to remind him that they were midair before thinking better of it. He had fallen asleep on the way to the Northern Islands, after all, and there seemed little danger in it as long as the dragons knew where they were going. Besides, Evan had been a prisoner of Celestine and on the run from her long before that. Who knew when he had last gotten uninterrupted rest?
So Destin attempted to remain as motionless as possible on Splash’s back so as to not wake him. The minutes slid past, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the salty spray of the Indio beneath them.
He looked around at the formation of dragons and riders and saw that Jenna was doing the same, probably counting their number to make sure that no one had fallen behind. She nodded briskly in Splinter’s direction after seeing that he was managing to keep up with everyone else. Then her gaze turned to Splash.
He watched Jenna look from the dragon up to Destin, frozen in place, and Evan, fast asleep with his head on Destin’s shoulder. He had nothing to hide from Jenna after she and the dragons had seen into his mind, but he was still hit by a jolt of fear at the reminder that they were not alone.
Jenna smiled—wide, bright, and genuine.
This isn’t safe for you.
Destin focused his eyes on the horizon and counted the minutes until they touched down on solid land again.
“So,” Evan said, leaning back against the divan, “I think it’s time for me to collect.”
They had arrived just south of the border, gathered in a tavern in the smallest, quietest town they could find. They sent word of Celestine’s death to Fellsmarch, adding in the message that the key players would be meeting in northern Arden to discuss the future. Lila and Queen Alyssa had managed to slip away from the capital long enough to meet them there, the others staying behind to hold down the queendom until they returned safely.
Where to host their little gathering had been the subject of great debate, until they stumbled across a tavern where the patrons were known for not asking questions. With their party of two monarchs, two spies, a guard, a musician, a rebel, a prince, and a pirate, subtlety was worth more than gold. Destin had raised the issue of money—after two wars and constant surprises, not even Lila had coins in her pockets—but Breon just tugged one of Celestine’s pendants from around his neck and tossed it to the innkeeper to pay for the use of their back common area, rooms for everyone, and valuable silence.
Now they sat in the back of the tavern, bringing each other up to speed on recent events in the Realms, and it seemed that Destin had run out of time to avoid his turn.
“Collect?” Breon asked, looking up from where he was seated on the wooden floor.
Evan pointed at Destin. “You promised to tell me everything once we got back to the wetlands. Now, here we are, and everyone else has told their stories. What happened after I left Ardenscourt?”
Destin sighed and drained his glass of wine. “Gerard Montaigne was dead,” he began, “but that meant that I answered to his son. Jarat was a terrible king—young, pliable, and eager to prove he was anything but. I spent most of my time trying to avoid ruffling his feathers while I went about my own plans. I worked with Lila and Hal to free the thanes’ families who were being held prisoner.”
“I remember that much,” Evan said. Hal had described that entire situation during his own turn at storytelling. “I was wondering about what happened after.”
He continued without argument. “I gave Hal’s sister the weapon that she used to kill Jarat’s bailiff, then framed my father for his death. That was a more complicated ordeal than it should have been, but it worked, and Jarat was about to have him imprisoned when I killed him. We went north—”
“Wait,” Evan interrupted, right at the part where he had expected an interjection. “Your father is dead?”
Destin nodded.
The pirate visibly took a deep breath. “Good,” he said, his voice firm. Destin was no fool—Evan had an inquisitive spirit, and he would no doubt have many more questions once they were alone again. But he appreciated the discretion in front of a crowd.
“I think we can all agree on that,” Lila chimed in with a shudder.
Moving on. “Jarat brought me with him when he traveled to conquer the Fells. I got promoted a few times, got involved in the finer points of northern politics, and helped find snakes in the grass in the Fellsian court. I killed Jarat before meeting with Queen Alyssa to discuss the war against Celestine and giving her the idea of making her own bloodsworn soldiers. From there, I traveled south with the Ardenine army and went with the dragons to the Northern Islands.”
There. It might not be as detailed of an account as the others had offered, but it was all Destin had the energy to manage. He felt exhausted, and yet somehow restless; his tired muscles ached with the urge to go, to move, to do something because he couldn’t remember the last time that there wasn’t something to be done.
Evan’s eyes were wide. “You really have been busy.”
“You know,” Ash mused, “I never thought I’d see the day that I was on the same side as Destin Karn and grateful for it.” He raised his glass of wine in a begrudging toast. “I guess miracles still exist.”
“So what will you do now?” Jenna asked.
It was a simple question, one that they had all asked of each other as they assembled in the common room and shared their stories. Alyssa and Hal would rule their respective countries; Sasha would guard and protect her queen in Fellsmarch; Jenna and Ash would create a dragon sanctuary of sorts in the Heartfang Mountains; Breon wasn’t sure what the future had in mind for him; and Evan, he thought with a pang, would return to Tarvos to resume his position of authority in the port city.
But though the question was simple, it felt anything but. Destin could not remember if he had ever felt in control of his own destiny, or if a path had always been laid out in front of him to follow. Even now, with his father and Celestine firmly behind him, he felt anything but free.
“I still have responsibilities as a spymaster,” he said finally. “That doesn’t change now that Jarat is dead. From one king to another.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” said Hal with a smile. “I could use all the help I can get in Arden. In fact, I have a problem for you.”
Automatically, Destin straightened in his chair and focused his attention on the king. “What is it? I can be ready for reconnaissance by—”
Hal waved his hand, chuckling. “Nothing so serious. My sister is quite taken with your line of work, and has been asking us to let her pursue it as her own path.”
A small but genuine smile tugged at his lips. “I saw real potential in her during the rescue. She has what it takes. I think you should encourage it.”
“Do you?” Hal didn’t sound thrilled, but he leaned towards Destin as if he was giving the matter genuine thought. “I want her to do what makes her happy, but she is my sister. I want her to stay safe. Can you really tell me that there’s no risk in what you do?”
“You know I can’t,” Destin said honestly. “What I can tell you is that Harper is an intelligent, talented young woman who has found something she’s interested in. She’d be miserable with the life of a traditional Ardenine lady, and we can’t all be soldiers and kings.”
“I understand that,” Hal said quietly. “I wish she had found an interest that wouldn’t put her in any danger, though. She might have the talent for it, but she doesn’t know the first thing about Ardenine intelligence, and it’s hardly the safest job.”
In all honesty, Destin wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about her potential career path. The Matelon family disagreements were hardly his business. Still, there was something about Harper that tugged at his heart and made him want to do whatever he could for her. She was a clever girl with a good future ahead of her who, however ill-advised it might be, seemed to look up to him. Though he didn’t think he would ever be the kind of person that was worth imitating, he knew Harper was the kind of person who deserved to go after what she wanted.
He resolved, then and there, that he would do his best to ensure that she would get it.
“Then let me teach her,” Destin offered. “With the war over, it will be safer to be a spy than it has in decades—but you’re right, there’s still an element of risk. So let me take her under my wing and make sure she’s ready by the time that she’s old enough to go on missions by herself.”
Ash chimed in. “I’m sure Julianna would help teach her some things as well.”
He nodded, acknowledging the prince’s suggestion. “She would, but I have experience in Arden that Julianna doesn’t, and you know that I can keep your sister safe.”
“You would be willing to do that for her?” Hal asked.
“Of course,” Destin said. “Harper needs a mentor. One day, she’ll make a very formidable spymaster.”
The soldier king made an expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace. “Until then, I know she would appreciate your support and guidance. And I would appreciate knowing that you’re there to make sure she stays out of trouble. Thank you.”
Uncomfortable with such alien gratitude, Destin glanced across the room at Evan, who was beaming at him. He could practically hear the pirate’s smug words: Offering to mentor a young aspiring spy doesn’t seem so very monstrous of you. But Destin knew better, knew that wanting Harper to have a good life didn’t magically make him a better person.
He wasn’t sure if anything could manage that.
“So it seems like we’ll be scattered across the Realms,” Evan pointed out, glancing around the group. “But we have a long period of adjustment ahead of us before we are ready for the next steps.”
There was seemingly unanimous agreement. Between Celestine and the wetland war, nobody was ready to immediately embrace the next stage of their lives. There was a good deal of rebuilding that needed to be done, both physical and otherwise. Even Evan planned on waiting for at least a few months before returning to Carthis, insisting that the shiplords could run Tarvos while the rest of the nation patched itself together and he let himself breathe before going home.
“At least we have the dragons,” Jenna said brightly. “No distance is too far away with them involved.”
“That’s fortunate,” Hal agreed. “Especially since I’ll need to leave for Ardenscourt at daybreak. As much as I would prefer to fight a battle or meet with thanes, I can’t afford to run Arden to the ground immediately after becoming king.”
“I’ll ride back with you,” Destin suggested. “I need to return soon as well, especially if I’m going to be mentoring Harper.”
Evan smiled. “I’ll go to Ardenscourt with you, then.”
Destin froze. “Why?” Too harsh, he chided himself, too abrasive. He knew full well that Evan had time on his hands before he wanted to go back to Carthis, and he clearly wanted to spend some of it in Ardenscourt. He had the right.
Still, Destin could hardly claim that there was no harm in it, especially not in the way the pirate had phrased it. I’ll go to Ardenscourt with you, then. No regime changes would immediately shift the thinking of the Ardenine people. The thought of Evan facing half of what he had endured in Ardenscourt broke his heart even more than the prospect of their going separate ways.
“Why not?” Evan countered, oblivious to the panicked thoughts ricocheting through his mind. “I had a great deal of fun when I went there as the Carthian emissary, and now I won’t even have the Montaignes to contend with. Besides, I want to see you doing the job I’ve heard you are so good at.”
Trying to conceal the way his heart raced with fear, Destin glanced around the common room to see if anyone noticed something amiss between the two of them. Only Ash and Lila seemed to think anything of the conversation, and Ash seemed less concerned about their apparent relationship than he did about the infamous Lieutenant Karn having such a frivolous conversation with a pirate. Lila, for her part, was poorly hiding her amusement at Evan’s eagerness to see Destin in his element as a spymaster.
“You’re more than welcome,” Hal said kindly. “I’ll need my allies and friends as close as I can get them.”
“If it means anything,” Ash added, “I had a great deal of fun just watching you as the Carthian emissary. Arden doesn’t know what to do with you.”
“I’m quite proud of it,” Evan said with a smile.
Everyone laughed, and so did Destin, as if that wasn’t the very thing that frightened him.
The others struck up a new conversation, their voices fading to the background until suddenly everybody was standing and saying their goodnights and apologetically explaining that they needed to rest before they left early the next morning. Belatedly, Destin rose as well and walked stiffly to the hallway door in search of his own room. He realized that the remainder of the evening in the common room had passed by in a kind of haze.
“Destin!”
He turned to find Evan at his shoulder, his hand outstretched before he unlocked the inn door.
“What?” he asked softly, quickly looking around to see if anyone had followed before letting himself take a step closer.
“I just wanted to ask you something,” Evan said. “Before we leave for Ardenscourt.”
He raised his eyebrows, waiting.
“How did your father die?”
Destin blinked.
“You skipped past a lot back there,” Evan explained, “and you barely mentioned the most important part of it. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand, but…this is a big deal. I thought you would have treated it like one.”
Internally, Destin cursed. The pirate was too observant for his own good.
Aloud, he told the simplest version of the truth. “It didn’t go the way I always planned it. After I framed him for the bailiff’s death and Jarat was about to have him arrested, he attacked me. I stabbed him in the heart while he was choking me. To anyone looking, it would have been self-defense, and maybe it was. Either way, he’s gone for good.”
Evan’s hand trailed up to brush against Destin’s neck, his touch warm and electrifying. “Thank you for telling me,” he murmured.
He thought of a hundred things he should have said. Instead he merely nodded.
Mirroring his tiny movement, Evan nodded before pulling back his hand and stepping away. “Good night, Des.”
“Good night, Evan,” he whispered.
Footsteps echoed down the hall. Then Destin closed the door behind him and sank into the nearest chair, trying to breathe.
When he was younger, he had vowed that he would kill his father to put an end to all the pain he had caused. The method by which he envisioned himself committing the act varied depending on the day and his mood, but the ending stayed the same: with Marin Karn dead at his feet, he would be able to close his eyes and take a deep breath. He had always known that he would breathe deeper, easier, when he knew that the monster was gone and never coming back.
The reality had unfolded very differently. Destin had not planned the act in advance; he had been forced by necessity to take his vengeance swiftly in the company of Jarat and his men. Destin had not stood proudly on his feet; he had been lying on the floor, his body pinned and his head dazed from being repeatedly slammed against the marble. Destin had not maintained an easy veil of composure as he dealt the fatal strike; he had lashed out almost blindly, the blade directed by little more than desperation and white-hot hatred.
In all his visions of that moment, he had coldly carried out the plans he had painstakingly created over the years. He had told his father that this was for his mother, for the child he used to be, before denying Karn the privilege of last words. He had been ruthless.
In none of his visions had Destin been flat on his back being strangled by his father until he could barely see straight, so insignificant in the young king’s priorities that everyone in the room had left him there alone to claw himself to his feet again.
The deed was done, the monster slain. But none of it felt right.
Destin hadn’t been able to look down and see his father’s body lying at his feet—Karn had been pinning him to the floor, and the blackbirds had to drag the body away before he could even move. Destin hadn’t been able to take that deep, steady breath he had been waiting for—he’d been too preoccupied gasping and coughing long after the air should have returned to his lungs.
Then he was alone, lying on the cold palace floor and covered in his father’s blood, and the weight was gone but something was still missing.
He used to think that his father’s death would solve everything, that Karn had been the central problem in his life that prevented him from being happy. Then Karn was dead, and suddenly Jarat was the problem. Then Jarat was dead, and it was Celestine. Now, Celestine was gone too.
He had run out of excuses. There was no one else to blame.
Destin lay in his bed, safe, with his eyes fixed on the ceiling and tried to breathe.