A Prince Among Killers - By J. B. Redmond Page 0,49
face, and color slowly seeped back into his cheeks.
“The heart is its own master, Aron. You above all others should understand me in this. I can no more force myself to love Dari because she cares for me than you can force yourself to cease loving her when she does not return your feelings.”
Aron flinched at the tender brutality of Stormbreaker’s words. Embarrassment boiled inside him, bitter and hot, but at the same time, he felt his fury leak out of his essence.
Stormbreaker let out a slow, measured breath. “It is time we laid this bare between us, so it divides us no further. I will apologize to Dari for my insensitivity, but I don’t wish to encourage her affections more than I have, since I cannot return them.”
Aron knew he should feel overjoyed at this declaration, but he felt nothing but sorrow, and worry for Dari. “Why not? How could you possibly find Dari lacking?”
“That’s a deeply private matter, Aron, and something I cannot share because the tale isn’t all my own to tell.” Stormbreaker broke eye contact and stared off into the distance, and his throat worked furiously as he swallowed more than once.
Aron recognized the gesture, from the many times he had done it himself, trying to contain his feelings for Dari.
“You love someone else.” Aron spoke while staring at his own knuckles, somehow too ashamed to keep staring at Stormbreaker.
“Yes.” Stormbreaker still sounded distant, and Aron still couldn’t look at him.
When Aron finally managed to lift his head, he murmured, “And you cannot see your way clear to putting this person aside for Dari’s sake?”
Stormbreaker grimaced, then brought his attention back to Aron. “You care for Dari very deeply. Perhaps more than I realized.”
Heat flushed across Aron’s skin, but before he could return his gaze to his knuckles, Stormbreaker caught his chin and held his head in place.
“Don’t feel shamed, Aron. I’m your guild master, and responsible for all aspects of your growth—including helping you to learn your own heart. Perhaps this situation with Dari has made me remiss in this duty, and for that, I apologize. There is nothing off-limits between us.”
“Nothing?” Aron asked as Stormbreaker let him go.
Relaxing into his more typical stance of arms relaxed by his sides, Stormbreaker said, “Nothing that I am not prohibited from sharing by edict of Lord Baldric or guild tradition.”
Aron tried to mimic Stormbreaker’s posture, despite being nervous about his next question. “Then why do you hate Falconer?”
Stormbreaker remained casual in his stance, but he looked so pained Aron almost regretted his rash prying into the man’s private history. When Stormbreaker did speak, his words were quiet and even, as if he had imagined telling his tale, but never practiced it. “The First High Master of Thorn was correct. I’m a child of Vagrat—as most suspect, given my appearance.”
Aron reminded himself to nod, so Stormbreaker would keep talking. Overhead, the sun seemed to blaze like a bright blue eye, staring down at them, warm despite the ever-cooling air of the season.
“Perhaps I should have told you this story long ago, Aron, but I did not know how you’d take it.” Stormbreaker’s smile was apologetic. A bit sad. “When I was a child, life in Dyn Vagrat was very different than life in other dynasts. Lady Vagrat—Vagrat’s seat passes through the female bloodline, you’ll remember from your lessons—she did not stay in a castle. Like her mother and grandmother and great-grandmother before her, she lived in the marshes and villages, moving from place to place among us, as one with us.”
Aron’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. He had never heard such a thing about Vagrat, or come across it in his studying of history and protocols. In fact, he had discovered next to nothing about Dyn Vagrat, save for brief mentions—which was fine by him, as it was Brailing and Altar he studied most fiercely.
“There were no nobles and goodfolk. Lady Vagrat decided disputes, but she shared her wealth with us, and bore her daughter and heir in the tradition of Vagrat—without naming a father, or forging allegiances based on the child.” Stormbreaker smiled, as if remembering a private joke, but just as fast, the expression faded, and his stance grew more tense. “When Pravda Altar took her seat with the Thorn Guild, she began to protest Lady Vagrat’s ‘Brotherless conduct,’ and the fact she kept no proper seat of government, no ‘nest’ of her own.”
Aron could imagine his mother saying such a thing, after one of her visits