Page 155 of While the Dark Remains
The Iljaria just stand there, silent and watching, like they truly have no part in this conflict.
Ballast strides fearlessly between them, his blue eye flashing. “There will be no more fighting today,” he says. Then, shouting into the sky: “There Will Be No More Fighting Today!”
The Daerosians knock their sword hilts against their breastplates in a show of respect and obedience. The Skaandans don’t move, blades gleaming in the sunlight. Saga’s jaw is tense, and her eyes flick to me.
Please,I whisper into her mind.Let there be no more death today.
Ballast’s brothers look at each other, a wordless agreement passing between them. They kneel all together, bowing their heads and laying their swords at Ballast’s feet.
“All hail the king of Daeros,” they chorus.
The Daerosian army echoes: “All Hail!”
For a moment Saga stays frozen, sword fast in her hand, rage and wanting bright in her eyes. Then she takes a breath. “Stand down,” she orders.
“Saga?” Vil says, the anger holding him fast.
“Stand down,” she repeats.
Vil obeys her and lowers his sword, and the rest of the Skaandan army follows suit.
My heart beats, beats. Ballast stands before his army, gilded in light, and his beauty robs me of breath. I think he will never again walk in darkness.
Saga can’t look at me, her eyes everywhere else in the private tearoom: the window, the table, the pattern on the marble floor. There is food laid out on the table between us, but neither of us has touched anything. The tea has already gone cold.
She fiddles with her cup, running her finger around the rim.
“Are you sure you won’t stay?” I ask at last, desperate to hear her voice. “I’m not sure Vil is the best choice to negotiate peace.”
She attempts a smile. “I’m ready to go home, Brynja. If I never see this mountain again, it’ll be too soon.”
I worry my lip. “Vil is disappointed.”
“That he doesn’t get to try his hand at being king? Yes. But don’t tell me you feel sorry for him.”
“I do.”
This surprises her enough that she raises her eyes to mine. “I thought you hated him.”
“I have never hated him, Saga. I blamed him, for a while, for Indridi’s death, but he didn’t kill her, and I can understand the fierce loyalty he has to his country. The truth is, he was my friend, and was far kinder to me than my own brother ever was.”
Saga shifts in her chair. “Was any of it real, Brynja?”
My throat hurts. “Of course it was real. I could have left you when we escaped from the mountain. I could have left you in the tunnels, or on the tundra. But I didn’t.”
“Am I supposed to saythank youfor that?” Saga demands. There are tears in her eyes, and I feel them pressing against mine, too.
“Saga.” My voice breaks. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to. But I did, and I’m sorry.”
She stares at her lap, twists her fingers in her skirt, twists and twists.
“What will you do?” I ask her quietly. “When you get home?”
“Try and forget all of this,” she says without looking up.
“I understand. But if you—” I hesitate, unsure of myself. “If you were to write me—”
“I’m not going to write you, Brynja. Why would I?”
