Kel shakes his head. “Kairyn saved his life against the Nightingale’s monster. Saved all our lives.”
I pace behind them, hands itching for my swords. “I just can’t fucking believe we’re going to stand here, waiting and watching, as Ezryn’s life is in that madman’s hands! Ezryn’s going to let this happen to himself—”
Kel slams a hand on my palm and holds me in an icy glare. “This is Ezryn’s choice. You will respect it.”
I sneer and throw his hand off me.
Farron steps forward, eyes shifting between the two of us. “Ezryn had the choice to publicly unhelm Kai years ago, when Ez defeated him in the Rite. Surely, Kairyn will show the same mercy.”
“Or he’ll kill him,” I say.
A keening sound utters from up the rampart, and Rosalina doubles over, clutching her heart. It’s the first sound I’ve heard her make all morning. Seven realms, I’m an idiot. Kel shoots me a nasty glare, then walks over to her and places a hand on her back.
If I’m handling this badly, how must she feel?
She’s his mate.
She’s Ezryn’s fucking mate. Just like she’s mates with Kel and Farron.
The thought sends me spiraling, and I whip away, digging my hands into the stone wall to keep from punching it.
Tears spring to my eyes. Rosalina is mates with every one of the High Princes.
Except for me.
What did I do? It couldn’t be because I haven’t loved her enough, because, fuck, I’ve loved her so much I’ve felt like it would break me. Why would the universe curse me like this? Curse me worse than spending each night as a beast?
Then a thought strikes me like a blade.
Maybe it was because I was never meant to be the High Prince of Summer. Keldarion, Ez, Farron … They were all the eldest or the only. Fated in the stars for their Blessings.
I received mine through blood and death.
Maybe she was meant for Damocles. Maybe she would have loved him, and he would have loved her. He should be the one still living now.
And I should be the one buried in the ground.
Footsteps sound on the stair, and Eldy walks up, a forlorn look on his face. Whatever Rosalina did to him yesterday has worn off, and he has resumed his fae form. More of her strange magic. We need to explore it, but right now, Ezryn takes priority.
“Any news?” Kel asks.
“I have finished preparing him,” Eldy responds solemnly. “The trial is about to begin.”
88
Ezryn
All my life, I have strived to bring honor to my people. To my realm. To my family. To myself.
Now, as I step out into the sunlight, all the eyes of the capital stare at me with shame.
Guards escort me and my hands are bound, but it is unnecessary. I would not shame myself further by trying to escape punishment. My face was witnessed by the soldiers I slayed, by the other High Princes, by my brother’s guard. There could be no greater dishonor.
I wear the starlight silver armor that was specially crafted for me when I took the mantle of High Prince. The helm I bear is forged from the most precious metals. If this is to be my end, then I shall lay down my life with what pride remains.
The crowd parts as I walk from the keep toward the dais where my brother stands. A sensation flickers near my heart, a pulling and a pleading all at once. I look up at the ramparts.
Rosalina.
My mate…
Her expression is one of sheer anguish, tears glittering in the morning sun. I nearly killed her. My curse had almost broken. I had finally found my mate and she wanted to accept the bond with me … But why? In what way did I deserve to love someone as pure as Rosalina? To be loved by her?
The beast roils within my chest, antsy and restless. He wanted to be rid of me.
I suppose I needed him more than he needs me.
I look down, unable to hold her gaze anymore. Not only have I shamed myself and my family, but I have brought great shame upon her as well. She is mated to a creedbreaker.
My only respite is that I know by accepting whatever punishment is bestowed, I will regain a sliver of honor. I once passed judgment on Kairyn, and now he will pass judgment on me. A cycle, like that of the seasons. It seems fitting.
I think, deep inside, I knew this day would come. I was destined to answer to him for taking our mother away.
A guard pushes on my back, urging me to ascend the stairs up to the top of the dais. My brother looms before me, his shadow long. I cannot bring myself to look up at my father. Perhaps a small mercy of his condition is that he is not lucid enough to understand the disgrace of his eldest son.
“Kneel,” Kairyn says lowly.
I do, sinking to my knees at my brother’s feet.
“Before me is the High Prince Ezryn,” Kairyn booms. “He is here to face trial for the most grievous of evils. Our High Prince has broken the sacred creed, forsaken his oath to realm and citizen, and revealed his face outside of kin.”
The crowd gasps, their horror giving way to sobs and cries of outrage. I stay still, though each breath is a struggle.
“Not only did Prince Ezryn reveal his face, he brutally murdered those who witnessed it and then desecrated one of our most sacred spaces,” Kairyn continues. “As steward of Spring, I shall bestow judgment.”
I bow my head. Many years ago, it was I in his position, publicly decrying him. I understand him and hold no hatred. Duty before blood. The realm before the heart.
“Do you deny the accusations, Prince Ezryn?” Kairyn asks.
Distantly, I note he is not using my full title. “I do not,” I respond.
The crowd gasps again. My hands seize into fists as I feel the weight of their shock. That space beside my heart aches.
Kairyn steps toward me. “Then I will do what I must—”
“Wait!” a voice croaks. The sound is dusty, as if unearthed after being buried for centuries. My father rises to his feet.
“Sire!” a guard cries and rushes forward to steady him, but my father pushes him off.
“F-forgiveness,” my father says. “L-let us have forgiveness—”
His words are cut off by Kairyn, who grabs him roughly by the shoulders and pushes him on to the chair atop the litter. “Sit, Father. You are ill. This betrayal has caused you too much distress already.” He nods to the guards. “We shall return you to your chambers so you may rest.”
“Wait…” I think my father says, but the guards lift his litter and carry him inside the keep.
Kairyn’s heavy breath reverberates beneath his helm. The crowd has started murmuring now, repeating my father’s word: Forgiveness.
Don’t they understand? There has been no royal pardon ever granted in history. I would make no special request for myself.
Even in my father’s most feeble state, the people are loyal to him. It is testament to his many long years serving beside the High Princess, for his leadership in battle and government. They must mourn who he used to be, as they mourn my mother. This dedication … They’re extending it to me.
“Forgiveness for High Prince Ezryn!” one of them calls.
“Amnesty!”