Mortal

“Seeing it through may not include Jonathan as you once thought. Despite what you may think, I’m not in a position to command whatever I want.”

“You’re Sovereign.”

“Still so naive, Rom? I would envy your idealism if it wasn’t so misguided.”

“Idealism? I would call it destiny. You know what we’ve both sacrificed to bring this day.” He pushed aside the anxiety sweeping in like a storm surge. Not like this. You won’t convince her like this.

They stepped under the shade of a tree. Telvin and the Dark Blood hadn’t moved from their positions, and they were now far out of hearing range, even for a Mortal.

She turned to him, arms crossed. He had to take her mind back to the place it had once occupied nine years earlier, when she’d first tasted life. Short of that his objective would be lost.

“You already know this is foolishness.”

It was her unflinching tone more than the words she used that shook him. Perhaps Roland was right: his hope in Feyn had been borne of irrational emotion over sound logic. As she said, foolishness.

But no. There had to be a trace of true life behind her dark eyes.

“The Order sees Chaos as foolish. Does Saric agree?”

He’d caught her flatfooted, but she replied soon enough. “No.”

“And you? Do you believe Chaos was foolish? That the life humans once lived was properly crushed? That any such life should be forbidden today? Is this foolishness?”

“No.”

“And yet before I brought you life you found it all foolish. Please don’t make the same mistake again. I am no fool.”

“No, but we are all misguided on occasion. Maneuvering me out here alone so that you can bend my ear far from Saric is not only idealistic, but foolish.”

She saw through all of it.

“We will see,” he said.

“I already do.”

“Do you?” He glanced at Telvin, who stood near the Dark Blood down valley, idly chewing on a stalk of grass. “Tell me what my man eats now.”

She followed his gaze but offered no answer.

“A stalk of sweetgrass. Evidently my sight is far better than yours, as is the sight of all Mortals brought to life by Jonathan’s blood.”

“You only say that.”

“And your man is scratching at something on his neck. He has a rash?”

She blinked. “So you have good eyes,” she said. “So does a dog.”

“You compare me to an animal?”

“No. Come, Rom, we both know why you’ve brought me here. You could have sent a runner to tell me why I should give up my Sovereignty for Jonathan’s sake. It would have spared us both wasted time. Was your intent to frustrate me?”

“My intent is to use all the resources short of brute strength to help you embrace destiny.”

Feyn moved toward the tree trunk and gazed down valley. He let her think for a few minutes and settled on a nearby boulder. They had time.

But Feyn wasn’t eager to let time pass. “Let me tell you about destiny, Rom. It’s upon us already. I am alive, Sovereign according to every law of succession. Short of my stepping down, there is no way for Jonathan to take my place. But we both know that if I were to step down, Saric would kill me and become Sovereign himself.” She looked at him. “That, Rom, is destiny. And it can’t be altered. Not now.”

“Unless Saric didn’t kill you. Unless we found a way to contain him.”

“You haven’t seen his power.”

“No, but Roland has. Don’t underestimate the Nomads.”

“You’re assuming I have any interest in stepping aside.”

“No. I’m assuming that you will once you remember who Jonathan is.”

“Then you assume wrong. Saric has my undying loyalty.”

“Today, yes. Hear me out and that could change.”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“Doubts can be erased.”

A fire took to her eyes and he wasn’t sure if it signified defiance or amusement. Either way, she was set.

“Please, Feyn. Just hear me out.”

“Haven’t I?”

He stood and joined her. “This isn’t about who is or isn’t Sovereign, Feyn. Jonathan could co-rule with you. Yes, Saric would have to be dealt with, as would the senate. Undoing death is a massive undertaking, granted. But I would beg you to consider the value of that task. The world must be set free.”

“And live as they once lived,” she said, looking away again.

“Yes!” He instinctively reached out and touched her arm, thought immediately to remove his hand from her, but left it when she didn’t pull away. “We can at least agree on that much as a beginning. I know life. You’ve known it. If it isn’t the duty of the Sovereign to offer life to the people, then what is?”

“You misunderstand me, Rom.” She looked up at him. “I will bring life. But I will not give up my Sovereignty.”

“Then we find another way for Jonathan to rule with you.”

“I will bring my life. The life given to me. Not Jonathan’s.”

His hand fell away.

“Saric’s life is no life. Surely you can see that!”

“Isn’t it?”

“Life, Feyn! Life, as you tasted once. With joy. Hope. Love. You loved once. Or have you forgotten?”

“No. I haven’t forgotten.” The cords in her neck stood out as she said it. “And I love again.”

“Love? Who? Saric? You call forced loyalty love?”

“Who are you to dictate to me what love is? What love feels like? I knew love once, for a very short hour with you, Rom. I loved you and you denied me because of Avra. And I couldn’t even begrudge you. But I knew even then that a part of you loved me in return.”

He’d never admitted his confusing sentiments for Feyn to anyone. They’d felt like a betrayal at the time, as though love, once given, existed only in finite amount and could never be shared or given to another. But hadn’t he loved Triphon as surely as he’d loved Avra? As he loved Jonathan, with his whole heart?

As he loved Feyn, still?

“What you feel for Saric now can’t be love. Just as the blood in your veins isn’t true life.”

“Isn’t it?” Her brows arched. “Are you so arrogant that you don’t think I feel hope for this reign of mine? For what I might bring the world? You don’t think I want to be remembered fondly? Treated with love? Do you think that I don’t feel the deepest pull of love in my veins this very moment? Who are you to say?”

“It’s only alchemy! Chemicals, in your blood!”

“All emotions are caused by chemicals! What is love but the rush of endorphins into your bloodstream?”

He raked a hand through his hair and turned away.

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No!” He turned back. “Feyn. Think of Jonathan. Twelve hundred Mortals have come from his veins.”

“Twelve thousand have come from Saric’s.”

“Jonathan was born with life in his veins! He didn’t ingest it, wasn’t injected or altered. He was born with it in the line of Sevenths. It’s his destiny, not Saric’s, to build a new kingdom of life, freed from the slavery of death!”

“Life was taken by altered blood,” she said. “Now you say it can’t return the same way?”

“Yes! No! But Saric’s life is no life. You feel-I can’t deny that. You believe you have love, perhaps you do truly