Is he purposefully playing dumb? Is this a mental game? Is he going to make me suffer, torture me over the course of this month, kill me just when I believe I might survive?
“The fire, then,” I say, looking for an explanation. A reason he hasn’t already killed me in revenge yet. “You saved me, because you needed my fire.”
He snorts. Talks with his mouth full of food. “No. I had lost all faith in your fire, Sunling.”
My eyes narrow. “So why?” I ask again.
Calder looks at me, puzzled, as if wondering why I’m so set on getting an answer to this question. Then, his expression turns serious. He nods in understanding. He tears the remaining meat off the bone, then sets it down. Leans back. “We are not defined by our lineage.”
I stare. He can’t mean that.
“I am not my father. And neither are you, yours.”
He’s right. I am not my father. I’m nothing like him. They say he’s a great king. I suppose it’s a good thing I’ll never be one.
Calder tilts his head, studying me. “Cycles can always break. New generations give new hope, do they not?”
It’s the most he’s ever spoken to me. I’m unsure of how to respond. Unsure whether I understand.
Meal finished, he wipes his fingers in the snow. “Calder,” he says, introducing himself for the first time, his hand outstretched.
“Oro,” I reply, offering my own.
And, also for the first time, he smiles.
ZED
The day after I complete my Moonling training, the king requests my presence.
The throne room is already full of nobles.
“Oro,” the king says, offering me a rare smile.
I blink at him, concern setting in. Something is wrong.
That’s when the doors slam open ... and a prisoner is hauled in by two guards. He thrashes and bellows. I don’t recognize him, but I see by his clothing that he’s a Sunling.
Is he a member of the resistance? A traitor?
My father looks at him and frowns. “A thief, caught stealing gold from the castle treasury ...” He shakes his head. “I can only think of one truly fitting death sentence.”
With that, he turns to me. “Would you do the honor, son?”
Son. He’s never called me that. I’velongedfor him to call me that, to acknowledge me, tocare.
Here’s my chance, handed to me. An opportunity to finally be in his good graces.
“No,” I say instead.
The world seems to stop.
The nobles stare, wide-eyed. Then the whispers start. This is a prisoner, who is sentenced to death anyway. I’m the king’s son. Refusing his order, in front of a crowd, is nothing short of a scandal. Even my mother looks surprised. Egan looks concerned.
My father is furious.
“What did you just say?” he demands, his voice echoing through the room.
He’s not used to the wordno. He’s been king for centuries. I’m not used to saying it. But now that I’ve started, I realize I like it.
