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When Adolin first said that he’d teach Gavinor to ride horses, Gram had told him no. She said Gavinor was too young, which only made him want to learn even more. If he didn’t do grown-up things, he would stay a kid forever.
Gram didn’t back down easy, which is something Gavinor loved about her. He knew she would protect him. But sometimes, safety could feel tight as being swaddled. Adolin must have felt that way too, because after Gavinor watched the two of them talking at the corner of the room, their voices too hushed for him to make out the words, Gram finally agreed.
“Now, we’re not going to have you ride today. Today you’re going to meet the horses, okay? Don’t be scared.”
Gavinor nodded, ducking his head as he looked around the fields. There weren’t horses at the palace, so he hadn’t seen them before. Only as pictures in the books read to him to help him fall asleep.
Horses were big. Even in the distance, they were so much bigger than he’d imagined. He felt his heart pound, imagining them as the shadow monsters he fought off with his sword. These weren’t shadows, though. They were real, stinking of sweat and plants and dirt as he and Adolin got closer.
Gavinor wasn’t sure he was ready. He’d thought it would be easy, but ever since that night, nothing was. Everything felt harder than it should be.
“Here we are,” Adolin said.
Gavinor’s legs shook as the huge beast loomed over him. He was back at the palace. He tried not to think about that night, but he couldn’t stop. Everytime it popped into his head, his chest would hurt, his heart pounding faster and faster until it sounded like the high, ringing buzz in his ears.
“Gav,” Adolin said, kneeling down so that their eyes met. “What’s wrong?”
When most people looked at him, there was something in their eyes that made him feel smaller. He didn’t have a word for it, but it didn’t feel good. Adolin never looked at him like that.
Gavinor’s throat felt tight enough to choke off air. “It’s scary. I—” Now he couldn’t get words out at all.
And that was stupid, wasn’t it? It was a horse, not a monster. It wasn’t even dark out. The sun was high in the sky, which didn’t even have any storm clouds. It shouldn’t be scary. Still, he’d had to say it, or else Adolin would make him get closer.
That would be worse.
“It’s fine,” said Adolin. “We can stop for today.” He showed Gavinor his hand, palm first—not the way where he might use his Shardblade, but the way where they could hold hands.
Gavinor liked holding hands, though he wouldn’t admit it. Soldiers didn’t hold hands, only weapons. But no one was around, so it was okay. Adolin felt safe, like Gram felt safe, like Grampa felt safe. Little touches helped Gavinor know he was here, and not back there.
Gavinor took Adolin’s hand, who squeezed his hand back and led them away from the beast. He felt like a failure, further away from being a grown-up than he’d been this morning. He dragged his feet, kicking up crem that hadn’t yet hardened after the recent storm.
Adolin saw it. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Gavinor didn’t know how to answer without making himself feel even worse. Instead, he looked away.
Adolin didn’t say anything else, but he stopped walking. Was he upset? After waiting a moment, just to be safe, Gavinor peeked up at Adolin through his eyelashes, in the way that grown-ups couldn’t see. Adolin looked… Gavinor wasn’t sure. He was frowning, but it wasn’t a mean frown.
Adolin had told Gavinor that he could ask him anything. Gavinor wanted to be brave, so he pushed through his bad feelings. “Are you mad?
The frown disappeared, replaced by surprise. “Huh?” Adolin said. “No, no. Of course not! Why do you ask?”
Gavinor wanted to shrink into the ground. He’d thought asking things was okay.
Adolin spoke again, his voice gentle. “I don’t mean why are you asking a question,” he said. Gavinor felt a little better. “I’m glad you asked if you were confused about something. But why do you think I’m mad?”
“I… I didn’t want to get near the horse.”
“Oh!” said Adolin. “That’s fine! Horses can be scary at first. You told me you were scared, and we stopped, right?”
Gavinor nodded, then said, “But I shouldn’t be scared!”
“I’ll tell you a secret.” Adolin crouched down again and leaned close. Gavinor didn’t have to listen hard to hear his loud whisper. “Do you know the soldier with the dark hair, tall, with the writing on his forehead?”
Gavinor nodded. That was one of the men who’d saved him at the palace. For a while, the man had appeared in his bad dreams, looking like just another shape glowing blue as Gavinor froze in fear. Now when the man showed up, he felt less like death and more like life.
“Well,” Adolin continued. “When he first saw a horse, he was scared too.”
“He was scared?” That was surprising. It was like learning Grampa was scared of things. “Soldiers don’t get scared.” Gavinor knew the man had to be a soldier since he was wearing Papa’s colors.
Adolin shook his head. “Everyone gets scared, Gav. I get scared! It’s okay to be scared.”
Gavinor wasn’t sure he believed it. Everything he knew, he’d believed from when he lived in the palace with Mama and Papa. Now people were saying what he learned was wrong.
Then again, things hadn’t been right since that day.
Adolin stood and clapped a hand on Gavinor’s shoulder. He pulled him close, butting Gavinor’s head against his knee. Adolin’s knee was too bony and kind of uncomfortable, but Gavinor felt better anyway.
Meeting Adolin had been awkward at first. Gavinor knew that Adolin had a Shardblade—he remembered Mama talking about it, as if it were something special that so many of the Kholins had swords and armor—but somehow, the act of Adolin putting out his hand to summon it had sent Gavinor tumbling back into bad thoughts.
That was a while ago, and Adolin hadn’t done it since. He had complimented Gavinor on his sword more than once, which was kind of funny because even Gavinor didn’t like it as much as Adolin seemed to. It was protection and a promise, and sometimes fun to swing around when he and Grampa played pretend.
He’d learned that Adolin liked swords, though. A lot.
Adolin also liked horses. He seemed to like the special horse, Gallant, best of all. When Gavinor mentioned him, Adolin looked a bit sad. He’d been afraid to ask why, but that was when Adolin told him that Gavinor could ask him anything, so he did.
“Ryshadium are special,” Adolin said. “Horses let many people ride them—well, most horses. Some are grumpy. But Ryshadium bond with certain people, and those people become their riders.”
It almost sounded like Ryshadium were Shardblades. Gavinor said as much, causing Adolin to laugh.
“You’re not wrong, I suppose,” Adolin said. It felt good to make him laugh, but the smile disappeared again as he continued, “I had a Ryshadium once, named Sureblood. He was… dear to me.”
“Was” could be a bad word. Not bad like “storms,” which Gram told him not to say but Grampa thought was funny, but bad in that it carried bad feelings with it. “Was” meant something had gotten lost, changed, gone forever.
Papa was around, until he wasn’t.
Gavinor was in the palace, until he was here.
He realized that so many people here must have had their own “was” weighing them down, heavy like a stone sitting on their chest.
“Do you… miss him?” Gavinor asked, then felt silly for asking. Something dear would obviously be missed!
“Yeah,” Adolin sighed. “I do. I don’t think I spent enough time with him. Maybe I could’ve. It’s not worth thinking about what could have been, but I can’t help it.”
Papa.
Gavinor didn’t notice he was crying until Adolin said, flustered, “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you cry!”
“I’m not crying!” Gavinor said, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He wasn’t going to make this about his problems. He was trying to be a grown-up, and grown-ups didn’t—
His tears weren’t stopping.
They were sad and angry, and for a moment, that was all he could feel.
He felt a tug on his arm. It was Adolin’s hand. He pulled Gavinor down so they were both sitting on the floor.
“Grief is… complicated,” Adolin finally said, talking over the small, hiccuping noises that Gavinor couldn’t stop. “That’s what you’re feeling right now, I think. Grief. You’re sad, and you don’t know what to do about it.”
Adolin was right, although Gavinor wasn’t sure how a horse, even a special one, could have made him feel sad about his papa.
Adolin sighed, looking somewhere far off. When Gavinor looked in the same direction, he didn’t see anything there. It wasn’t because his eyes were blurred with tears, either.
“I’m fine,” mumbled Gavinor. “I’m not sad anymore.”
Adolin smiled. “It’s okay to feel however you feel right now. But one day, you might find that you’re sad again. There’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes these things can make you sad for a long time.”
A long time. Would he feel bad forever?
They got to talking about horses again. Adolin told him about Sureblood, who had died a little before Papa had, out on the Shattered Plains. It felt weird to think of Papa as being at all like a horse, but if grief was complicated, then it could probably latch onto both big and small things. They talked and talked until Gavinor’s nursemaid told him it was time to go.
It was only that night, lying in bed with his fabrial light glowing to chase away the dark, he realized that Sureblood’s death wasn’t that long ago. Not enough to be “a long time,” he figured.
Gavinor wondered who else Adolin had lost.
“Gram,” said Gavinor. His voice was quieter than he meant for it to be. If Gram noticed, she didn’t say anything about it. “I have a question about Adolin.”
“Oh,” said Gram said in surprise. Gavinor hadn’t spoken with her much about their family. It was still too close to talking about Papa. Gram was usually the one to bring up how Aunt Jasnah was visiting with the Thaylens or how Grampa was really busy.
But he remembered Adolin’s sad smile.
“Did Adolin lose someone?” he asked. “Like I lost Papa?”
Gavinor barely had a moment to think before he was being hugged. He could tell it wasn’t a hug for him. This was a hug for Gram, who was shaking a little. Even though he couldn’t see her face anymore, he could imagine what it looked like.
It felt like forever before Gram pulled away. Her eyes were a little red, and Gavinor felt bad that he’d been the one to make her feel like that. “Sorry,” he said.
“Don’t apologize, Gav.” Her smile was wavering, but at least it was there. “Your question made me think of your papa, so it made me a little sad.”
“You miss him,” Gavinor said, though of course she did. Of everyone, he knew that she missed him just as much as he did.
“I do,” Gram said. “I miss him so much.” The words wavered like her smile. “I don’t know what brought on this question, but yes, Adolin lost someone. You know Grampa is Adolin’s papa, but Adolin’s mama is no longer around.”
“Aren’t you his mama?”
“I…” said Gram, and she looked a little unsure. “You know how Adolin’s hair is golden? That’s because his mama had golden hair too.”
Gavinor had often stared at Adolin’s hair, especially outside, where the sunlight made it look like he was glowing. “She sounds pretty.”
“She was.” Gram didn’t look at Gavinor. “He lost her when he was young, although not so young as you. It was difficult for him. He misses her, just like you miss your papa.”
“It’s not fair,” Gavinor whispered, and when Gram reached out for another hug, he let her. “Adolin says this is grief.”
“Oh, that boy, teaching you such things.” But when Gram released him, she didn’t look as sad as before.
“Can I do anything about it?” he choked out. “It won’t be forever, will it?”
Gram sighed. “Grief is like a monster, and everyone’s monster is different.” Gavinor shuddered at the word “monster” as she continued, “Some monsters come like the storms, and can only be fought with time. Other monsters require words, where speaking about them robs them of their power.”
She looked at Gavinor, taking his hand. She squeezed it gently. Her hand was smaller than Adolin’s, but rougher than Gavinor thought it’d be, maybe because of how she made fabrials.
“You’ll need to figure out what kind of monster you’re fighting. But Gav, listen to me. You’re a fighter, and I’ll—no, we’ll—be with you, every step of the way.”
The horse had a dark coat of hair and stood taller than even Grampa. Its head was huge, and Gavinor could see little Gavinors reflected in its eyes. They were as small as he felt at this very moment.
Gavinor couldn’t stop his trembling. Stupid—he was such a baby. He swallowed down the urge to cry, which would have been more embarrassment than he could stand.
He couldn’t swallow down his fear, though. Was this shaming Papa, up in the Tranquiline Halls?
“Hey,” said a voice, and for a moment, Gav couldn’t tell where it came from. A part of him wondered if it was the horse-monster. “Breathe for me, okay?”
Gavinor felt weird forcing his breaths, breathing in and out so hard he could feel it in his stomach, but somehow, it helped. His head started to clear, even though his heart still felt like it was too fast.
“Better?” Adolin asked, and when Gavinor nodded, he said, “Good.” He pointed to the horse, which was less monster and more beast now. Beasts were scary, but Gavinor could handle them better than monsters. “We can still stop if you want to.”
“No.” Gavinor shook his head. “I have to do this.”
Adolin sighed, but he didn’t push things. “Then I’m going to lift you up, okay? She’s gentle. She won’t hurt you.”
Gavinor squeezed his eyes shut as Adolin grabbed him. His hair tickled his forehead in the rush of wind. Then he felt something underneath him, warm and terrifyingly alive. His eyes flashed open. Before fear slammed against him, Adolin told him once more to breathe, and he did so, breathing in and out until he had matched the breathing of the beast under him, low and slow.
Now he was here. Stuck.
“I’m scared,” he whispered.
Adolin smiled. He didn’t have to kneel, now. He could meet Gavinor’s eyes as an equal. “I know. And you’re doing great.”
Adolin and Gavinor were walking in the hallway of the tower as they headed back to Gram’s room. She wanted to see him after Gavinor’s horse-riding lesson, “to make sure I kept you in one piece,” Adolin had teased.
Gavinor was carrying his wooden sword, swinging it nervously. He was much more grown-up than he had been this morning, but he was still a bit scared of the horse, even though nothing had happened. The sword helped him feel safe.
As they turned the corner, Gavinor had just enough time to see the sparkle of gems and surprised purple eyes before they ran into Aunt Jasnah. Literally. Gavinor’s sword was swinging, and he couldn’t stop it as it headed towards her—
It disappeared into smoke.
Gavinor blinked at his hand, confused. His heart couldn’t even start beating faster, because it wasn’t even sure if he should be afraid. What had happened?
“Jasnah!” Adolin’s voice cut through the confusion. Adolin was looking at Gavinor worriedly, his eyes darting between him and Aunt Jasnah. For her part, Aunt Jasnah’s face didn’t look any specific way. She wasn’t like Gram, showing that she was happy or sad with smiles or frowns.
“M-my sword,” Gavinor said. He didn’t know why the words came out all weird.
“Jasnah, really? That sword was important to him.”
“I… apologize.” Gavinor could see Aunt Jasnah’s eyebrows draw together. “That was unintentional, and dangerous.”
Adolin sighed. “That could have been bad, Jasnah. What’s got you so upset?”
“I don’t believe this is a conversation we should be having in front of a child.”
“I’m not a child!” Gavinor huffed.
Aunt Jasnah sighed. “Forgive me. The fact is that you are, at this moment, a child. I won’t argue with you on that point. But children don’t deserve condescension.”
Adolin whistled. “Gav, that’s two apologies in one day. That might just be a record.”
Another sigh, and Jasnah looked at Gavinor directly. It felt like being stared at by the sun. “Please allow me to make it up to you. I’ll take you to the armory, where you can select a small sword to be Soulcast into wood.”
Gavinor hadn’t understood the word “condescension.” He understood these words even less.
Adolin whispered, “She wants you to go with her to find a new sword.”
Gavinor thought that sounded neat, but it was a little scary to go with Aunt Jasnah, especially now that he knew she could maybe turn him into smoke. That’s what she had done, wasn’t it? She was like one of those monsters…
No, he couldn’t keep seeing monsters everywhere. Monster shadows, monster horses… He didn’t want to see his aunt as a monster too. She was Papa’s sister.
“I… I’ll go.”
“Don’t worry. She’s not that bad,” Adolin said.
After being glared at by Aunt Jasnah, Adolin left Gavinor with her. She led them to a small room that was on the way to Gram’s room. When he opened the door, he gasped at all of the weapons. There were big swords, small swords, spears, even spiky things he didn’t even know what they were.
“This is one of the armories in the tower,” Aunt Jasnah said. “Do you like it?” Gavinor was impressed, so he nodded. “Point to one of the swords you’d like, and so long as I approve and so long as you are careful, you may pick it up and test its balance.”
Gavinor understood some big words, mostly because of Gram. Aunt Jasnah used words that he didn’t know, but the way she said them, he thought he could piece together what she said.
“Gram probably won’t like this,” he said.
Aunt Jasnah actually smiled at that. “You’re likely correct.” Then she frowned. “It wasn’t wise to wave a sword around in the hallway, however. I overreacted, but there are people you could have hurt, or people who would do you harm, as I nearly did.”
He looked down. “Sorry. I needed to.”
Aunt Jasnah’s head tilted. It reminded Gavinor of a parrot that he’d seen on a trip to the tower’s market. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“It helps me. Um. Feel better.”
She hummed.
“I need to protect myself,” he continued. Then he added, “And I need to avenge Papa, so he’ll be proud of me.”
It was alarming to see Aunt Jasnah’s face change the way it did. One moment, he was looking at a regal queen, powerful and as steady as the tower they stood in. The next, he was looking at a woman sad enough to crumble to dust.
Her upset face lasted for a blink. The change was quick enough that Gavinor thought he might have imagined it. But then she said, “I think… Elhokar would be very proud of you, regardless.”
Aunt Jasnah looked fine, but she felt… sad. Like him.
He remembered what Gram said.
Other monsters require words, where speaking about them robs them of their power.
“Can you,” he said, “tell me about Papa?”
The monster grew smaller as Aunt Jasnah began to speak.