It took a twenty-minute walk to get there. The farther in the direction of the mountain we walked, the cooler the temperature got. Though I was walking, I was still cold by the time we arrived outside a door. The walls were cracked, and we were on what I assumed was the second level.
I didn’t want to know where exactly the entrance was to the castle dungeon. It was creepy in this part of the castle. While the rest of the castle was gleaming marble floors and extravagance, this part of the castle looked like something you’d find in Nerede. It was old. And not only was it old, but it was unkept. The lanterns casting what little light there was along the way had been covered in a thick layer of dust. Twice I had seen massive spider webs in the corners of hallways. Though we hadn’t stepped foot outside the castle, it felt like we had. It felt like we were in a ramshackle cottage of sorts.
Owen nodded to the two guards at the door. “We are here to see Grant.”
The guard looked to me and to Owen, then back to me. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea. We were told no visitors.”
“Yes, me neither,” Owen snapped. “But Her Highness had it approved with Prince Krewan.”
The guards looked at each other and then the one who seemed to be in charge banged on the door. “Company.”
The other turned the doorknob for me, and I walked into an old room.
There was one small square of a window with bars over it which overlooked half of a boulder and half the forest. And on a single bed scooted close to the fireplace sat Easton. His beard was grown out, and his hair longer. So much so that I hadn’t realized how dark his hair was until it was this length. He didn’t look starved though. He just looked... isolated. Like a man who was bored out of his mind.
His mouth fell open as he moved to put down the book he was reading. It was a history book, best I could read the worn cover.
“Is this my execution day?” Easton asked as he crossed his arms tightly over his chest. His voice was so quiet, I wondered when the last time it was that he had spoken to anyone.
My eyes widened. “You think we are here to kill you?”
“You are wearing a crown,” he pointed out. “So that leads me to believe the rumors are true and you are more than likely Enchanted now.”
“She is,” Owen snapped. “And she is also a princess so you will refer to her as Your Grace or Her Highness.”
Easton put a hand in the air. “My apologies, Your Grace.”
I shot Owen a look. He was still mad at Easton apparently, despite the fact that within The Six they had been a variation of friends. I crossed my arms and moved a few steps closer to Easton, second guessing this entire adventure. “Look, I’ll make this short and sweet.” I paused. “I killed a man the other day.”
Easton’s head snapped back as if that was the last thing he ever expected me to say.
“I killed a man and thus far it has not bothered me much. Because the man deserved it. But there is still a...weightto having been the person responsible for the perishing of a life. A weight that comes with the power of delivering death. But I don’t feel bad for doing what I did. I don’t know if I ever will.” I paused. “And having done it, I thought of you. Of how over the course of that summer those weights must have added up. How though I do not feel guilty or bad for what I did, there was something within you, that though you were following orders, gave you a sense of wrongness. Guilt.”
Easton just sat there, quiet, while I kept talking.
My voice went cold. “I will never forget what you took from me. I will never forget how it felt to try to sleep after I found out it was you. How I was afraid to sleep after that, knowing my father’s murderer had been right outside my door the entire time.”
Easton’s eyes fell to the floor.
“But I am glad that you do feel that guilt. Though I am angry,” I paused as a ripple of magic trailed up my arms. And I let it because I was just that cold. “Though I am angry, I can still see that just as easily as you could have felt the guilt of what you’ve done, you could have just become numb to it. Like the king.” I paused. “You removed yourself from the situation so that you wouldn’t have to take any more innocent lives.”
“Jorah, I’m so sorry,” Easton said, voice shaky.
“It isYour Grace,” Owen barked.
Easton nodded. “Sorry. I am so sorry, Your Grace.”
I remembered what my mother said about showing others mercy and forgiveness. We didn’t do it for their sake, but rather to rid ourselves of the emotional shackles that tied us to them.
“I am done hating you,” I added. “I have hated the man who killed my father since the moment he was ripped out of my life. Far before I even knew it wasyou.” I took a shaky breath. “And no amount of hatred or anger will bring back the man who taught me how to dance in my mother’s kitchen.” A tear slipped out and Owen moved in closer as if to help me, but I shook my head. “The man who would get off wall duty and rush to the bakery just to help us with dishes. So that we could all spend time together as a family. The man who I watched love my mother fiercely. The man who no matter how exhausted he was, read me bedtime stories in different voices and made me fall in love with books.” I closed my eyes and breathed. “He’s gone. And I realize the king is as much to blame as you are. But I am done hating you.”
Easton swallowed and when his voice came out, it was a mere whisper. “How can you not?”
I shrugged. “Because I don’t want my emotions tied to you for a moment longer. I understand the horrible position you were put in. I understand you didn’t have much of a choice in it at all. But I want to be free of you.” I paused. “I don’t need to hate you a moment longer. Because that’s your job. To hate yourself for it. To let your own guilt gnaw at you. To have to come to grips with what a kind and good man you took from the realm. Orders or not.”
I noticed the tears on Easton’s face, but I had to finish this.
“I can’t honestly say that I wish to see you again. Being in your presence is painful for me. But I do not wish for you to permanently waste away here either.”
