Chapter Text
Darius and I turned forward, side by side, as Mott opened the doors for us. For a heartbeat I stood frozen on the threshold. The hall was filled with guests, both seated and standing, but a wide pathway between them was marked by a long blue carpet. I saw several officers from my armies, former regents and nobles, the castle servants dressed in their finest, and citizens of Carthya. They bowed when they saw me.
It didn't seem like the castle had been shattered only hours before, when Prozarians had nearly claimed Carthya’s crown for their own. It appeared someone, most likely Kerwyn, who I heard was actually alive a few hours ago, had insisted the long banners be rehung. The place had been repaired too quickly for my comfort. Stone pillars stood straight again as though the invasion had never happened. A wedding hall, they might call it, though the word felt strange to me now. I stood in the nice clothes that fit me properly for once, dark blue and formal with the fabric heavier than I remembered wearing for some time.
A few minutes ago, outside the doors of the great hall, Mott had come up with a fine blue coat that matched with the shirt and trousers Darius had given me earlier. The expensive clothes I was wearing now was only because Darius, with far too much enthusiasm had insisted I change into proper clothes and had even claimed he would wrestle me into a formal attire himself if I refused. In his own words he had said that if I didn't agree to put on something dry, he would dress me himself, and I had no doubt he had meant it.
When Mott had helped me put on the blue coat, he had said, “I have never been more proud of you than at this moment.”
Though I suspected that was not entirely true, I accepted it anyway. I looked down at the coat, then back at him, “What is this moment, Mott?”
He smiled in that knowing way he often does. “I believe you already know.”
But I did not know what moment it was. Or perhaps I did. But that did not make it any easier to face it. Perhaps I had refused to know until the doors were opened and I walked beside him into a hall full of people who had given me every reason to stand tall again.
The regents who had resigned their offices five days ago, had returned to their places now and guards lined the walls. Every familiar face turned toward me. The hall was intact, but none of us were. People watched me as though I were someone worth waiting for.
And then I saw her. Imogen stood on a set of wide steps leading to the dais, facing me and smiling. She wore my mother’s wedding gown, white with sleeves that flowed long from the elbow, and with blue lace trim. The gown had been carefully saved away for all these years. Her hair was swept back and curled, with a wreath of miniature roses in her hair. Castor had probably stolen the dress as well, intending to use it to claim Carthya.
For a moment, the hall ceased to exist. I only saw silk and memory, the way the gown caught the light, the way it had once belonged to someone who would never see any of this. My chest tightened, painfully, at the memory of my mother.
The room had already fallen silent and Imogen had lifted her eyes to meet mine.
“We should walk forward, or do something,” Darius whispered. “Everyone’s staring. Best we start walking before the people here begin to wonder if you’ve forgotten how.”
I drew a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and crossed the hall. Or rather limped over the blue carpet laid in the center of the hall. This same hall was where once I had been crowned as king in the past, and where my ancestors had been honored. I caught a few familiar faces as I walked up the blue carpet. I saw Cook, and Errol, and that servant who always opened doors for me a second too late. This time, he bowed exactly as I passed.
Imogen's eyes searched mine the moment I reached the base of the steps. “What happened to you?” she asked quietly.
I forced a crooked smile. “Only the usual. I was nearly blown up, jumped through a waterfall, and Darius rides his horse like an old man.”
Her lips curved just slightly. “Jaron…” she breathed. “You look… well, better in some way.”
I nodded. “You look beautiful,” I said. It was true. Though beauty was hardly the point right now.
“Thank you,” she answered softly.
But my smile quickly fell away. My heart had been dreading this moment since the invasion ended today and since the moment I realized, I had been clinging to a hope that had already changed. I remembered all that had happened over these past few days along with the secrets, and the truths neither of us had spoken soon enough.
I drew in a breath. As difficult as it was to speak the next few words, they needed to be spoken. “Imogen… I cannot marry you.”
The words settled between us. Around us, the hall seemed to hold its breath as though the ground between everyone's feet had collapsed. Imogen's lashes fluttered, but she did not step back. Of all the things she expected from me, pain was not new. Her hands tightened around the silk at her sides, but she did not look away. “Why?”
“Our wedding was supposed to have already happened three days ago,” I said, “but the Prozarians interrupted that. And these past few days after our argument, after everything, I have been thinking. More than is good for me, Mott would say.”
The past few days and the past year rose like a tide before me. Our wedding had meant to happen three days ago. It had been only two days away when the Prozarians attacked our castle. I had thought of that wedding through fire, chains, stone and ruins. I had also thought of stopping her wedding with Castor. I had thought of too many things until I realized that in the chaos and fear, Imogen and I had argued more than we had spoken. Also we had even argued a lot in the past and there had been several misunderstandings between us long before the Prozarians invaded my kingdom. We had problems since we had been to Belland. Or perhaps they had existed even months before that. This was not a decision I had come to lightly at all but I had made my decision.
After a moment, I added, “Because somewhere in the midst of all this madness, after every argument we had in Belland and Carthya, I realized something. I am difficult, and I will always be difficult. I will be imperfect, always. I can be selfish and arrogant. I am impetuous, demanding, and the greatest of fools. Devils may find endless entertainment in me, though I still don't know why.”
Imogen faintly pressed her lips together. “And you will always keep secrets.” .
“Yes,” I admitted. “That too.”
“You did open up a little,” she said. “You told me things you had never spoken before. I understood some of it. Though not all of it. I understood more than I did before. You told me a little why you do the things you do.”
“A little,” I said. “But that is not enough. Also I cannot promise I will never keep another secret from you again.”
After a beat, I added. “You were not wrong to be angry with me. Even if your plan with Castor required it, you weren't wrong to wish honesty. I admit I had made your life miserable at times. Asking you to stay with me now, that would not do any good to either of us. Nor is it something I want anymore. Not like before. Considering the problems we both had with each other so far, life with me will be impossible, Imogen. And I will not ask you to tolerate me.”
Her eyes glistened with tears. “Jaron… I—"
“When you were set on marrying Castor,” I cut in gently, “I truly believed you would. Especially after—” I broke off. I would not speak of how she had kissed Castor or how the way it had wounded and hollowed something inside me a few days ago.
“You think we do not trust each other,” she whispered.
“I think…” My voice faltered. “I think we liked the idea of being in love with each other and not the truths about each other.”
She looked down, and for a moment the hall became far too quiet. Her voice was thin when she answered. “I have forgiven you for what happened with my mother.”
“I know. But forgiving me does not erase what I did that day.” The memory stabbed at me. I recalled how I had stolen the coins that had fallen from Batilda’s purse when I was hungry and desperate as Sage and lied about that looking Batilda in the eye. I indirectly set into motion the chain of events that made Imogen, Conner’s servant. “Some things can be forgiven, Imogen, but they cannot be corrected.”
“I felt I understood you more than anyone ever did,” she murmured.
“I wanted to believe that too,” I told her. “But the truth is… maybe we do not know each other as well as we believed. You thought I kept secrets out of selfishness and sometimes, I do. But you kept secrets too. You hid your plan because I hid the Devil's scope from you. You thought I coveted the treasure, when I only wanted to rebuild Carthya with it. You believed I wanted it for myself. And that told me more than I was ready to hear. You thought I was greedy or foolish or… something I still don’t know."
Another beat passed before I added. "We were both wrong in different ways. You cannot understand me unless I tell you everything. And you carry your own secrets and don't trust me to bear them with you. Just like how I didn’t trust you with my secrets.”
There was silence again which felt heavy and final, until I said. “I spent this past year trying to be someone worthy of you. Someone proper and capable of being a good husband. But I cannot be anyone except myself. I cannot change what I am, Imogen. And I will not do that.”
She briefly closed her eyes and nodded. A beat passed, then I added, “You once told me you needed time. And I took that time to think. Now I know the truth I should have faced long ago: perhaps we were once in love. But whatever we had… it has changed.”
I stepped back from the dais. “I might have grown out of love for you, Imogen.” I said, barely above a breath. I still cared for her and was grateful to her for all she had done for me. I would always be but I didn't have the same love for her that a marriage required. Finally, I added. “It's best we don't marry. I want to end our betrothal.”
Everyone in the hall gasped. I did not breathe. Imogen closed her eyes once, then opened them with a steadiness I had always admired. She nodded at once breaking a little.
Funnily enough, when I was in Castor's dungeons in Elmhaven, she had said to me, something similar to what I had told her just now. I had not understood it then. Though I knew now she didn't mean every word she had spoken to me then. She had been forced to say most of those words but they had still wounded me far too much at that time. I had cried then, believing her, breaking in ways I had rarely allowed anyone to see. I couldn't deny there weren't some truth to those words now, though they were not hurting me anymore like before. It was best if we didn't marry.
Imogen did not deny what I had said. Nor did I pretend she had been blameless. Her plan with Castor, however well-intended, had been kept from me. I had made her life awful at times, and she had wounded me in ways I had not expected. We had argued bitterly since we were in Belland, over my recklessness, my foolishness and my refusal to leave Darius alone to fight the Prozarians in Belland. Imogen and I had loved each other. I believed that had been true. But love changes. And for this time, it felt more like freedom.
I stood there, in the restored hall of a shattered castle. I knew the truth I had not dared speak aloud: time would not change this. What we had was no longer what it had been. I had grown out of love though not into bitterness, but into clarity. I had survived too much to pretend otherwise.
Imogen slowly descended the steps with the composure she had always mastered better than I ever could. I watched her leave without following her. That alone told me everything I needed to know.
Amarinda stood and followed after Imogen outside the hall. The priest who had been sent to officiate the wedding had also left soon after I had called off the wedding.
Batilda stood shortly after, muttering something about propriety while throwing me a look that suggested I had personally offended every ancestor she had ever known. Which, to be fair, might not be entirely wrong. When she turned and left the hall she did not look at me at all. I could not blame her. I had given her every reason, over the years, to dislike me. At least now she would never have to pretend otherwise.
Yesterday, she had gently wrapped the injury to my arm without comment. For a woman who clearly hated me so thoroughly, she seemed strangely determined to prevent me from bleeding on the stable floor. Maybe she did it as a return to a favor of saving her from the Prozarians before that. Though whatever softness the invasion had drawn from her already retreated behind old grievances by now. Perhaps it was for the best. She never liked me much anyway, and now I had given her one less obligation to try to do so. Perhaps she would never like me again. Or perhaps she would. Either way, I suspected she would be relieved that I would not be her son-in-law. If anything, she could now dislike me properly, as a king, rather than a personal disappointment.
I looked around the hall that felt too large and too full. The invasion had taken everything from me again and given it back in pieces I was still trying to recognize.
Surprisingly, breaking my own betrothal to the girl I had loved saddened me less than I had expected it would. In fact it didn't cause me any sadness at all. Nor did it break my heart when I did it. Perhaps Imogen never held my heart as I had thought she had.
I turned away before anyone could mistake my stillness for regret. Though each step sent a wave of pain through my back, sharp enough that I hissed under my breath. My back was still stiff and sore from Reever’s whip, five days ago. It was tender enough that the memory of each strike lingered like fire beneath my skin. It was a dull reminder of the past few days. Amarinda had insisted on tending the wound two days ago but I had refused to let her do it. I had been foolish enough to leave the wounds uncovered for days and hadn't taken care of my injuries for a long time, partly because of my stubbornness and partly because I needed the pain to remind me that I was still alive.
But the wounds were healing now, very slowly as though my body had decided it had already forgiven me enough for one lifetime. I limped down the length of the hall toward my friends.
Mott watched me and shook his head in exasperation. He had asked me earlier whether there was anywhere I was not injured or hurt, right after the Prozarians had agreed to leave Carthya, when he’d grabbed my arm and I’d winced like a child. As it turned out, there may not be.
He was the first to meet me now, falling into step beside me as naturally as breathing. He did not ask if I was all right. I suspected he already knew the answer. He shifted at once, close enough that I could lean if I needed to. Darius followed and fell beside me as well, his expression unreadable in the way that meant he was thinking far too much. Roden’s mouth was already forming an insult. Tobias looked faintly bewildered. Fink looked between all of us, confusion written plainly across his face.
“Jaron,” Roden said the moment I reached them, “you are a fool.”
“Yes,” I agreed easily. “But at least I’m a consistent one. I am glad you waited for so long to offer that glowing praise.”
“That is not praise—”
“I took it as such anyway.”
Darius still looked thunderstruck, and confused. He stared at me as if I had grown a second head. “I… I did not expect this,” he said. “Only a few hours ago, you were urging my horse to gallop faster so you could stop Imogen’s marriage to Castor. You were desperate about it.”
“And you also asked me to delay the wedding if I could.” Fink added.
“That was different,” I said.
“Different how?” Roden demanded.
“Castor is evil,” I said simply. “And he was forcing her into marrying him. Of course I had to be in a hurry to stop it.”
“And yet you did not marry her." Tobias said, looking as if he was still trying to make sense of it.
Darius frowned. “I thought... you were trying to win her back.”
“I wasn’t,” I said. “Not really. Not anymore.”
“So you weren’t trying to save your own wedding?” Tobias asked.
I met his gaze to make him understand me. “No.”
That seemed to unsettle them more than anything else. Fink’s eyes were round as plates. “But… but why?”
“I’m sorry, Fink,” I said. “But love… changes. What I felt before, it’s not the same anymore.” Though I wasn't sure whether he understood what I was saying at all.
“She was nice,” Fink said quietly. “I was looking forward to the wedding.”
“So was I, once.”
He frowned. “You were supposed to. I thought… I thought she would be queen.”
I didn’t answer immediately. Few days ago I had come to know Imogen was royalty having descended from Faylinn, one of the three rulers who had founded Carthya, a thousand years ago. That made us relatives by a thread so thin it hardly deserved the name. Which was an amusing fact but entirely irrelevant. Though it made me almost smile for some reason.
“There will be other queens,” I added lightly. “And besides, you forget, she is already royalty in her own way.”
I let the corner of my mouth lift into a wry smile. “Technically,” I said, “Imogen is royalty through Faylinn, one of the first three founding rulers of Carthya. That makes us very very distant relatives, of course. So, yes. She has royal blood.” I watched Fink blink as though he was processing this. Though, judging by his expression, it probably flew over his head.
He hesitated, before he said, “I was supposed to give you the ring. Though I don't have it with me right now. I don't know where it is Jaron.”
Suddenly, I resisted the urge to smile. "Ah, you don't have to worry about that."
The ring was still tucked safely in my boot, where Castor could never touch it. My mother’s ring would not be used for a lie and certainly not for Castor's wedding. It had never been meant for anyone but me to give. Or not give, as it turned out.
“You loved each other,” Tobias murmured. “You did, at least Jaron.”
“I did,” I agreed. “But that love has changed. Imogen has changed. And there are rules in relationship. Rules, I have never been very good at following. Or… perhaps we were wrong for each other in ways neither of us ever understood until now.”
They all went quiet.
I drew in a slow breath. “We had misunderstandings and arguments for months. She had left me in anger more than once while I kept trying to explain myself, hoping the right words could fix everything. But it felt like we were always speaking different languages.”
No one argued with me this time. After a while, I looked at Mott.
“You won’t say anything?” I asked him, because he is usually the first to call me an idiot or a fool whenever I have done something I shouldn't. Though Roden had beaten him to it today.
Mott looked at me and studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “Jaron… you’ve grown up. I never thought I’d see the day. This was perhaps the most mature thing you have ever done.”
I wasn’t sure whether to thank him or apologize to him. His words surprised me enough to laugh. “That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me today.”
Fink still looked disappointed. “So there will be no wedding at all?”
“Not today,” I said. “But there might be one soon. I hear Mott and Trea might yet provide us with one someday once Trea is back. ”
Mott shot me a warning look.
I grinned. “Actually, Mott is getting old—”
“Jaron.”
“Fine, fine.”
Fink's face brightened a little, “Really?”
“We’ll see,” Mott said, though I caught the corner of his mouth betraying him.
Darius also chuckled at that and even Tobias hid a smile. Then Fink squinted at my hands.
“What about the flowers?” He asked. “I suppose you are not going to give them to Imogen, anymore. I thought you would give them to her. ”
I glanced down and realized I was still holding the blue and white blossoms I had taken from my people when I had returned and somewhere between the gates and the hall, I had tucked them into my sheath and entirely forgotten about them. Fink had laughed at that before we entered the hall until I had taken them in my hand again.
“Well,” I said, “I was considering giving them to Castor instead. Preferably with bees still hiding in them. Perhaps he’d appreciate them in his cell.”
Roden snorted. “I wouldn't be so sure about that.”
I raised a corner of my mouth. “Me too. I can't do that anymore as Castor is in the dungeons for the foreseeable future,” I said. “And the flowers are actually quite pretty.”
I thought for some time, then turned to Roden as I held them out to him. “You said you liked them. You can keep them.”
Roden stared at them as if they might explode. “I did not say—”
“You strongly implied it,” I said. “You said so earlier. So you may as well have them.”
Roden stared at the flowers, then at me. “But I don’t like flowers.” But he took them anyway. Darius laughed outright at that.
Roden stared at the flowers in his hand, looking bewildered and possibly offended. “Why me?”
“Because you said they are nice flowers,” I said with a shrug as a grin tugged at my mouth. “And because I am king and these decisions are entirely within my authority. Besides, admit it already. We both know you liked those flowers.”
He still looked clearly uncertain what to do with those flowers, which made it worth the effort. After a few seconds, he asked. “You are sure there aren't any bees in them, Jaron?”
Tobias chuckled lightly and Darius sighed at that, while Mott rubbed his head as though a headache was forming. Fink clapped being thoroughly delighted.
Amarinda returned a short while later. “Imogen has gone to change,” she said gently. “She will be leaving soon.”
I nodded as I became serious again. I had anticipated as much. I did not expect Imogen to stay. Nor did I expect her to entirely forgive me, for the foolhardy things I had done to protect her, to save my kingdom or to live through my own recklessness. I doubted Imogen would now wish to remain in this castle that had nearly killed us both, wearing a dress meant for a future that no longer existed. I truly hoped that she would find happiness far from the walls of my castle and my wars.
The crowd was still murmuring with confusion rippling outward, now that the truth had settled. Levitimas watched me from the edge of the hall. He had wanted me to give Imogen the truth in order to repair things between us. I had done so but just not in the way he had expected me to do it. When our eyes met, he inclined his head slightly, as if he was thinking about a riddle which had been solved differently than intended. He had told me once, in riddles as usual, that truth would mend what anger could not. He looked faintly puzzled now, though not displeased. He clutched the ancient book of Queen Faylinn to his chest as if it were a living thing, and perhaps to him it was. I had given Imogen the truth, yes, but marriage? That was mine to decide.
Fink tugged at my sleeve. “So, what about the wedding supper Jaron?”
I hesitated, then looked past my friends, out into the hall where servants lingered uncertainly, unsure whether to dismantle decorations or prepare plates. I had not eaten properly in days and my stomach twisted at the thought of food. The sight of the great vat in the kitchen earlier yesterday had done me no favors. Too many cooks made a tragedy of a meal. The pirates had likely already consumed whatever breakfast I had hoped might be still waiting for me. I could not even resent them for it. I thought of the meat seller in Drylliad, whose pie I had stolen yesterday. His cooking far surpassed the cooking of most of my kitchen staff. I made a mental note to find him later and repay him tenfold. Perhaps I could offer him a place here. The castle could use someone who knew what they were doing.
The crowd began to stir again. Clearly they were waiting for me to say something.
So I turned to them, to my people, regents, servants, soldiers and the Avenian pirates who were doing a poor job of standing properly. Then I raised my voice. “There may not be a wedding, but there will be a celebration.”
That caught their attention. “This kingdom stands because of you,” I continued. “Because you soldiers and servants and citizens have refused to give up Carthya to the invaders.”
Murmurs spread in the crowd. “We are alive,” I continued again. “Because you all stood with Carthya when invaders came for it. Many of you stood when you were afraid, fought when you were wounded, and stayed when it would have been easier to flee. All of you fought for the kingdom. Today, we will honor that.”
A cheer rose up which was hesitant at first, then stronger.
“And also,” I added, “there will be food. So we will eat. We will drink and we will celebrate the fact that Carthya still stands. Today, we celebrate that victory.”
Well that earned me a better cheer that followed and filled the hall more completely than any wedding vows ever could have. My friends were safe and my kingdom was at peace. Just as it should have been. And that made me feel happier than I had for the past few days.