The Burning White (Lightbringer #5) - Brent Weeks Page 0,147

it. That is a little different.”

“Kip, I believe you’re him.”

She’d never said it aloud, and he’d never dared to ask.

He looked into her hopeful eyes, and now he saw reflected there a man made whole. He breathed her in, and she filled his lungs with confidence. She was countering lies, defying contempt—I’m the boy who felt destined for something greater, because I was. She wanted to know if all her efforts were actually making a difference: healing fissures, helping him accept boy and man both.

“I believe it with all my heart,” she said. “And that’s why I want you to stay.”

“Excuse me?”

“The satrapies are finished. The empire’s lost. But not everything is. These people need you. No one can lead them like you can. You can’t abandon them in their hour of need. And if you stay—I mean, Lucidonius was able to sweep from Paria through all nine kings. You could do the same!”

“He faced nine kings who hated each other. We’d be facing them united.”

“To all his people, the Chromeria is the big enemy. We don’t know that Koios will be able to keep his people united after the Chromeria falls. To his people, they’re the big enemy, his people aren’t going to care about us way out here. We can rebuild. We’d still send messengers to the Chromeria, inviting anyone who wants to flee to join us.”

“He can immobilize drafters. We have to figure out how to counter that, or the only way to fight would be to send wave after wave of fighters into his wights like grist into a mill until they’re exhausted. It’d take a hundred thousand men to have a chance. Maybe twice that. Most would die, even in victory. I’d rather lose.”

“You’ll lose anyway,” she said.

It felt like a stab in the back. “I thought you believed in me,” he said.

“I don’t mean to the White King. They’ll kill you, Kip. The Chromeria. Even if you win. Even if you save them all and swear to leave the very next day. You won’t live to see that day. My lord, my love. It doesn’t matter what good you do them. This, too, is your inheritance: no one trusts a Guile bearing gifts. You, coming with only a fraction of your army, but in all your power? They’ll fear you, and hate you. Zymun? Your grandfather? The Order? Even the Magisterium. They’ve all killed for power—and you’ll be the biggest threat yet. My love, they’ll murder you. They’ll believe they must.”

She wasn’t wrong.

“This is who I am,” Kip said, and he raised his hands, fingers arched, stiff. “I used to think I was all thumbs. Turns out I was wrong. I’m all claws.” Turtle-Bear.

She saw the look on his face, and he saw her world crumble. “Kip, my love, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not your fault, it’s not your doing. It’s not about you.”

But her face contorted in grief, and she sank to her knees. “Kip. Kip. This will be the death of you.”

“O my love,” Kip said gently. He pulled her to her feet and embraced her, just breathing in the scent of her, cherishing the comfort of her weight against him.

The next words had to be pushed up a hill before they could roll down the other side, unstoppable, but they had to be said. In the years to come, she would need to know that he had chosen this, clear-eyed, if not unafraid. He said, “My love. Haven’t we always known? This was never going to end with me alive. After all, I am the Lightbringer.”

Chapter 40

The door to Karris’s rooms opened, and Samite strode in. “Hey, we missed you at training this morn . . .” She trailed off as she saw Karris’s haggard face and puffy eyes, and then she swore. “Is there some new emergency the boys at the door don’t know about? Because I swear to Orholam, if you’re slipping back into some weak-ass limp-wristed bureaucrat’s skin, I am going to kick your ass so far you need a long-lens to find it.”

Samite was the trainer now, Karris thought, the ghost of a smile touching her lips. “Not a new emergency, no. An old one.”

Late in the bundle of papers, where Karris had breezed past it at first, was a bit from Orea Pullawr. It had been a brief conversation Orea and Karris had had years ago with each other, but here anonymized and left for the benefit of all the future Whites:

‘I’ve left you a mess.’

‘You are