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The next morning, the memory of why he was home pulled him from his bed before dawn. He did not wish to wake either Grace or his family, but he could not simply sit around his house, either. He selected a book from his shelf and walked to his parents’ garden, intending to knock on the door of the house at the first streak of dawn.
Apparently his father was already up. Rínor opened the kitchen door and beckoned for Yneari to join him. Entering quietly, he padded to the kitchen table.
Rínor poured Yneari a cup of tea and gave him a bowl of steaming porridge topped with candied walnuts before dropping into a chair. For several moments the men contented themselves to eat their porridge, drink their tea, and sit together in the unbroken, pre-dawn quiet.
Finally, Yneari asked, “What are you doing up so early?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Why?”
Rínor smiled. “Just taking the opportunity to spend some time with you. I’ve missed you greatly in the last six years. And I’m guessing I’ll not see much of you while you’re home for the next few days. How are you doing, Yneari?”
“I slept well, so I’m feeling more like myself.”
“I’m glad, but it’s not what I meant.”
Yneari cocked his head.
“You’ve had a lot happen in a very short time. The curse broke barely two seasons ago. In that time, you’ve gone from wandering the continent with no purpose to being called to active duty to fight a war with a powerful magical army. You went from spending every day with your best friend to rarely seeing him. You’ve gone from a confirmed bachelor who swore he would never marry to pursuing the cursebreaker as intensely as you did your rank. You’ve gone from having the woman you love to not having her to having her again. I want to know how you are holding up.”
Yneari puffed a breath. “I hadn’t exactly thought about any of it in those terms, but you’re right.”
Rínor took another drink of his tea and waited.
“I like having a purpose again. I am perfectly happy to get a chance to repay the Chosen for their malevolence. Simple. Satisfying. Necessary. Sure, I miss Tanearan, but we didn’t work together all that often even before the curse, so that’s pretty easy to slide back into.
“But adding Grace into the mix makes everything more complicated. When I realized that she had been taken, I wanted to drop everything to go find her. The consequences didn’t matter as long as she was safe.”
Rínor nodded but still said nothing.
“The truth is, because of Grace I am vulnerable in a way I never have been before. We hadn’t even fought one battle in this war before the Chosen had exploited that vulnerability.”
“You think love has made you weak?”
“Lately it has certainly felt like it. I have to make sure that weakness doesn’t affect those around me.”
“Love has not made you weak, Son. It has made you stronger.”
Yneari cocked his head and stared at his father. “What do you mean?”
Rínor sat back in his chair and regarded his son. “Yneari, I’m going to tell you something that might not sit well with you. Hear me out before you respond, please.”
Yneari tensed. “Is something wrong with Grace?”
“No, no. Nothing like that.”
“When the curse was placed and you left the Forest, you were a very accomplished, very young man—barely more than a boy.”
Yneari opened his mouth, but his father held up his hand.
“Very capable, I’ll admit, but very young. You were always so focused on what you needed to do to achieve your goals. And you were very successful at it. But that amazing singular focus that has vaulted you to such success was like blinders that kept you from seeing the people around you.
“When you left, you never would have noticed the troubles of a human cobbler. And even if you had noticed, you would not have had the time or the desire to do anything about it—you would have seen it as a distraction from the goal you had set for yourself.”
Yneari blew out a breath. This is not what he had expected, and it was rather hurtful. “So you’re saying I was some horrible, selfish child?”
Rínor’s eyes grew soft and he leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. “No, Son, you were not. You were always a good boy—gentle, generous, intelligent . . . mischievous.”
Yneari smiled.
“Everything a father could want in a son. You were just . . . one dimensional. I was so thankful when Tanearan befriended you. He was about the only one who could pull you out of all-military-all-the-time mode.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted for me—to work hard and achieve my goals.”
“I wanted you to achieve your goals and reach your potential, of course. That’s what every parent wants for his child. But, not at the expense of having friends and a life outside of work.”
Yneari furrowed his brows.
“My father would disagree with me. He was far more interested in your climbing the ladder than anything else. I know he pushed you hard, but any time I tried to step in, you begged to go right back to it.
“But I digress. What I was trying to say—and apparently not well—is that when the object of your singular focus was stripped away, instead of becoming bitter and stagnant, you challenged yourself to grow in other ways.
“You looked outside your own circumstances, tragic though they were, identified a need, and found a way to meet it with no thought of reward. That showed great maturity.”
Rínor smiled fondly. “Call it a father’s foolish pride, but in my mind, you deserve as much credit for the broken curse as Grace does.”
Yneari shook his head. “No. Grace is the cursebreaker.”
“But she would not have made a cloak for someone she did not know existed.”
Yneari shrugged. “You have a point, but what does any of this have to do with vulnerability?”
“Caring about others will always make a person more vulnerable, but in my opinion, you’ve gained far more than you’ve lost—wisdom, maturity, empathy . . .” Rínor grinned impishly, making him look very much like his son. “. . . and Grace into the bargain.”
“I love her, Father. I won’t give her up. But I have a responsibility to my people, to my king, to my soldiers. I can’t risk making them vulnerable.”
Rínor stood and stretched. “There’s the first rooster. Grace should be up any minute.”
Suddenly, Yneari felt like a child whose parent was leaving before his wound was healed. “What am I supposed to do?”
Rínor squeezed his son’s shoulder. “Turn that vulnerability into a strength.”
“How?”
Rínor chuckled. “I trust you will figure something out, General.”