yet. But surely it would come.
“Wrend,” the Master said, “where did you get that idea?”
Wrend’s stomach churned. How could he be so stupid? How could he say such a thing, even if it was what he believed? Where had he even gotten the idea?
A memory came. He stood in a dining hall up the canyon with the other twelve-year-old demigods. Several more aggressive kids had just forced a more timid boy to give up his dessert. Wrend had witnessed it, but done nothing, and walked past Naresh. The priest grabbed Wrend’s sleeve and met his eyes.
“Why should he bend to their will?” Naresh said, pointing from the boy to the group. “I wonder: should he have the right to choose, and not simply bend to the will of the stronger?”
Then he let Wrend go, although the words had stuck with Wrend. They took root in his heart and grew because they made perfect sense. Why should the weak bow to the will of the strong if they didn’t want to? Shouldn’t people have freedom to choose their own paths?
Wrend had never applied that logic to the Master. He was god. Regardless of all other things, he was right. If he wanted something, he should have it. But did that apply to the hearts of men? If a man wanted to act contrary to god’s will, should he have that right? Wrend’s soul told him yes, but the shame in his heart told him no.
“I don’t know,” he said. He looked down at his plate, and with his fork mixed some peas into his mashed potatoes. He scrambled to think of an explanation other than the real one. “I just—they’d be more loyal if they chose to follow you.”
The Master placed a heavy hand on Wrend’s shoulder and frowned. “You’re compassionate and conscious of justice. But justice doesn’t take place in a void—it has constraints, and I determine those constraints. My will becomes law, and I can punish those who violate my law as I see fit. Is this not true?”
Wrend nodded. It pained him to meet the Master’s eyes. What would his punishment be?
“In time, you will learn this.” The Master removed his hand, placed his other on Teirn’s shoulder, and smiled. “You’ve already learned that lesson, Teirn. Well done.”
The words, though directed at Teirn, landed like blows on Wrend. He’d already started down the wrong path on this proving. It could end in his eventual death. This was his punishment: shame and guilt, and starting this proving at a disadvantage.
The Master returned to his food. “Tomorrow, you two will journey with me. We’ll travel with the Caretakers as they return to their counties. You’ll see the Strengthening. We’ll take twenty thousand paladins with us, and you will watch as I take control of a portion of Hasuke.” His eyes swiveled back-and-forth between the two sons. “You both have much to learn. Your proving has only just begun.”
Wrend sat up straighter. A smile touched his lips. He would get to leave the Seraglio—two years before other demigods got to. And he could still prove himself a good and loyal son. He started to respond, but the redhead cut him off as she stepped between him and the Master. Relief and confusion covered her face, and she looked ready to speak.
Chapter 15: Certainty
One of the most important things a serving girl can learn is to not stare. Another is walking on stilts in a crowd without injuring anyone.
-Marilla, mistress of the serving girls
Leenda’s legs trembled. For a moment she thought she might trip on the stilts, and steadied herself by leaning on the table between Athanaric and Wrend.
She needed to tell him. She needed to embrace him and kiss him. Goat guts!
It was Wrend. He was her mate.
She didn’t doubt it. No draegon would say what Teirn had said: force others into submission. Draegons didn’t think that way. They thought like Wrend: let others make their own choices and reap the benefits or consequences.
No doubt when Athanaric had extracted Cuchorack’s soul, he’d taken the
“Wrend,” the Master said, “where did you get that idea?”
Wrend’s stomach churned. How could he be so stupid? How could he say such a thing, even if it was what he believed? Where had he even gotten the idea?
A memory came. He stood in a dining hall up the canyon with the other twelve-year-old demigods. Several more aggressive kids had just forced a more timid boy to give up his dessert. Wrend had witnessed it, but done nothing, and walked past Naresh. The priest grabbed Wrend’s sleeve and met his eyes.
“Why should he bend to their will?” Naresh said, pointing from the boy to the group. “I wonder: should he have the right to choose, and not simply bend to the will of the stronger?”
Then he let Wrend go, although the words had stuck with Wrend. They took root in his heart and grew because they made perfect sense. Why should the weak bow to the will of the strong if they didn’t want to? Shouldn’t people have freedom to choose their own paths?
Wrend had never applied that logic to the Master. He was god. Regardless of all other things, he was right. If he wanted something, he should have it. But did that apply to the hearts of men? If a man wanted to act contrary to god’s will, should he have that right? Wrend’s soul told him yes, but the shame in his heart told him no.
“I don’t know,” he said. He looked down at his plate, and with his fork mixed some peas into his mashed potatoes. He scrambled to think of an explanation other than the real one. “I just—they’d be more loyal if they chose to follow you.”
The Master placed a heavy hand on Wrend’s shoulder and frowned. “You’re compassionate and conscious of justice. But justice doesn’t take place in a void—it has constraints, and I determine those constraints. My will becomes law, and I can punish those who violate my law as I see fit. Is this not true?”
Wrend nodded. It pained him to meet the Master’s eyes. What would his punishment be?
“In time, you will learn this.” The Master removed his hand, placed his other on Teirn’s shoulder, and smiled. “You’ve already learned that lesson, Teirn. Well done.”
The words, though directed at Teirn, landed like blows on Wrend. He’d already started down the wrong path on this proving. It could end in his eventual death. This was his punishment: shame and guilt, and starting this proving at a disadvantage.
The Master returned to his food. “Tomorrow, you two will journey with me. We’ll travel with the Caretakers as they return to their counties. You’ll see the Strengthening. We’ll take twenty thousand paladins with us, and you will watch as I take control of a portion of Hasuke.” His eyes swiveled back-and-forth between the two sons. “You both have much to learn. Your proving has only just begun.”
Wrend sat up straighter. A smile touched his lips. He would get to leave the Seraglio—two years before other demigods got to. And he could still prove himself a good and loyal son. He started to respond, but the redhead cut him off as she stepped between him and the Master. Relief and confusion covered her face, and she looked ready to speak.
Chapter 15: Certainty
One of the most important things a serving girl can learn is to not stare. Another is walking on stilts in a crowd without injuring anyone.
-Marilla, mistress of the serving girls
Leenda’s legs trembled. For a moment she thought she might trip on the stilts, and steadied herself by leaning on the table between Athanaric and Wrend.
She needed to tell him. She needed to embrace him and kiss him. Goat guts!
It was Wrend. He was her mate.
She didn’t doubt it. No draegon would say what Teirn had said: force others into submission. Draegons didn’t think that way. They thought like Wrend: let others make their own choices and reap the benefits or consequences.
No doubt when Athanaric had extracted Cuchorack’s soul, he’d taken the
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