Chapter 328 I’m Not Afraid Of Dying

She almost argued.

She could feel the words rising, sharp and tired, you can’t tell me what to decide. Then she looked at his face, the quiet gold of his eyes and the pulse ticking in his jaw, and she saw that he wasn’t giving an order. He was just looking out for her.

"All right," she said.

"All right?"

"I’ll drink my tea."

The corner of his mouth moved. It wasn’t a smile, but it was near one.

She lifted the cup. The tea had gone lukewarm, and she drank it anyway, to the bottom, and put the cup down.

On the window seat, Kaelen unfolded his legs.

He did it slowly, like a man who had been sitting in one position for so long that his body had forgotten how to leave it. He stood. The frost that had been fogging the glass behind him thinned, and beaded, and ran in small bright lines down the pane.

"Kaelen," said Draeven.

"I’m going up on the wall."

"It’s barely light."

"I know." His voice was flat. He didn’t look at any of them. "I need air."

He crossed the room, picked his way around the low table, and went out. The door closed behind him with a soft click, quieter than she’d ever heard him close anything.

Thorne took a step after him.

"Leave him," said Draeven.

"He’s...."

"I know what he is." The first king’s voice was low. "He will not hear either of us. Not this morning."

Thorne’s jaw worked. He did not take another step. His dark eyes went to the door, and stayed on it, and she saw something cross his face that she had never seen there, a kind of helpless fury.

Morgana stood up.

She had not decided to. The coat swung around her ankles. She found that she was already halfway to the door, and that both of them were looking at her.

"I’ll go," she said.

Neither of them answered.

"I don’t know what I’ll say. I don’t think I’ll say anything useful." She pulled the coat tighter. "But I don’t think he should be up there alone."

Draeven looked at her for a long moment.

Then he nodded, once.

"Go," he said. "Take the coat. It’s cold on the east wall."

***

It was very cold.

The wind hit her the moment she came out of the stair door, a hard, thin, clean wind that smelled of snow, though no snow had fallen. She pulled Thorne’s coat close and stood a moment on the flat stone of the battlements, squinting against it.

The east wall ran the whole length of the palace, a wide flat walkway with a chest-high parapet on the outer side and a long drop beyond. Dawn lay along the horizon in a thin pale line, grey going to pink at the edges. Below, the courtyards were still dim, dotted with the small yellow lights of early servants. Beyond the walls, the land rolled away north in long folds of brown and gold, with the royal road a pale thread winding through it.

She found him at the far end.

He was standing at the parapet with both hands flat on the stone. He had no coat. He had not laced his shirt, and the wind pulled at it, and he did not seem to notice. His pale hair stood up in a wild halo. His back was very straight, and very still.

The stone under his hands was white.

She saw it as she came closer. Frost, a bright feathered spread of it, creeping out from his palms along the top of the parapet. It ran in long delicate ferns, a yard to either side of him, and as she watched, it reached the edge of a stone and began to climb the carved cap.

"Kaelen," she said.

He didn’t turn.

"I know you’re there."

"I’m not here to talk."

"I know."

"Then why did you come?"

"Because it’s cold," said Morgana, "and you haven’t got a coat."

He made a small sound, half a snort. It wasn’t quite a laugh.

She walked the last few paces and stopped beside him. She did not touch him. She set her hands on the parapet, a little way from his, and felt the cold bite through her palms. The stone was slick with ice. She looked out, over the long dim land, to where the road ran north.

For a while neither of them said anything.

The sun was coming. She could feel it, a faint warmth at the edge of the sky, though the light was still thin and grey. A line of rooks lifted from a distant field and wheeled once and settled again.

"I’m not a coward," said Kaelen.

His voice was low and rough. It came out of him like something dragged.

"I know."

"I’ve fought in more wars than I can count. I’ve held a bridge alone for three days. I stood in front of my own brother when he was burning, and I didn’t flinch." His hands tightened on the stone. "I’m not afraid of dying."

"I know that."

"But I sat in that room. And I heard it." His voice cracked. "Their dragons will break. One by one. And I thought about....about few weeks ago. When I lost it."

She waited.

"You don’t know about that."

"A little. Thorne said something."

"Thorne wouldn’t have said much." His mouth twisted. "I went wild, Morgana. I don’t remember most of it. There was a week when I wasn’t—I wasn’t me. I was Glacius, all of him, and he didn’t know anyone. I put half of the training yard under ice. I nearly killed a stable boy. And my brothers had to shift. Both of them. Draeven and Thorne, in their dragon forms, to hold me down." He drew a breath. "It took them four hours."

She said nothing.

"I woke up with Draeven’s claw across my throat. And his face. He was crying. I’d never seen him cry. And he said, come back." Kaelen’s voice was shaking now. "And I came back. But I could feel how close it was. How far gone I’d been. And since then, every day, I....I can hear him. Glacius. Getting louder."

"Louder how?"

"In my head. Under my skin." He shut his eyes. "He wants out. He doesn’t want to be quiet anymore. He’s tired of being held."