“Neither can I. I’m the daughter of the king, and I love him, I love Innis Lear. I have to help my sisters, and fix everything. Somehow.”
“It needs to burn, Elia. This island is broken, and you can’t piece it back together; you need to remake it.”
“That can’t be the only way. The roots have to be capable of regrowing. It’s only been twelve years of breaking.”
“No.” Ban shook his head. “It’s been longer than that, and the roots are not strong. They’re weak and begging; the trees want to glory in themselves again, and in the hungry wind. They need heat and passion and sun, not just coldness and hesitation and stars.”
“I came home and listened to the trees and wind for days, Ban Errigal. The trees have asked me for help, the way they want, and I will see it through. I must convince my sisters to listen, too. Together we three must be able to find the right balance, the right weave to pull Innis Lear together again. We need a—a fulcrum, not a poison root. But first I need to find my father.”
“You forgive him.”
“Yes.”
“I do not, Elia.”
“I know.” She was slipping away from him. Back to Lear, as always.
“Your father did this! And those like him, unwilling to cleave away from their rigid, starry ways, the ways they have no evidence serve the world best. What does it matter for my mother and father not to have been wed? Nothing except what men pretend it matters! What does it mean that I was born under a dragon’s tail moon? Nothing but what priests have decided it means.”
“You hate him so much,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“Then you will do nothing to help me.” Her voice was dull. The passion, the eagerness from before had all drained away, and Ban did not know what to do.
“Understand, Elia, please,” he said. He took her shoulders.
There it all came, blazing back. Elia’s eyes widened, and she tore free of him, launching to her feet. “I do not. Why do you hate him so much?” She thrust her hands out. “Look at you! You are strong and famous! I heard your name spoken with respect in Aremoria, by the king himself! You did that—your actions made you a name outside of Errigal or my father! Earned you trust! Respect! So what if my father and yours scorned you as a child. It was cruel, yes, wrong, yes, but, Ban Errigal, look at you. You made yourself better than them! You could be so worthy of leadership and of love, but you can’t do it. You believe what they said of you.” Fury shone all around Elia, like a halo of lightning.
Ban said, terribly calm, “Because it’s true. Here, there, everywhere I go I am a bastard, Elia. A spy and liar, and I am not good.”
“You could be! I see better in you, and I always have. Take my word over my father’s! Over your father’s. I loved you, Ban, and I wanted your friendship, your heart—over anything else—and you wanted mine. So it didn’t matter because I was just a girl, just a princess? The opinions of our fathers shaped you, but my heart knew better. Believe that if nothing else, you stubborn man.”
Ban nodded, slowly, understanding a pit in his belly. “I believe you.”
She threw herself at him, relief blowing out of her in a sigh. Elia hugged him, her mouth on his neck. “Good. Good,” she murmured.
“But I can’t help you save your father.”
“Help me save Innis Lear, not my father. Us, our island. Our home.”
They stared at each other for a long, dark moment. Outside the storm had calmed. Only the wind remained, blowing strong and steady through Hartfare, ruffling roofs, nudging at shutters and doors. It whistled down the chimney; their fire spit back.
“Ban, don’t do this. Don’t choose against me, not you, not now.”
“Everything is a choice. You chose a long time ago.”
Elia said, “No. Not love. Love is not a choice between different things like this. Love has to be growing, making your heart expand. It’s not narrowing. I love you and Innis Lear. I love my sisters and my father. Not one or the other. You can be more—you can be what you were and what you are, and—and whoever you want to be.”
Ban reached up and touched the corner of her mouth, slid his fingers along her jaw. “Your father sent me to Aremoria to get rid of me, because he hated me, whether because of my stars, as he told himself, or because he was selfish, and wanted you to himself. Do you understand? Such a man doesn’t deserve your love.”
“But he’s my father still, and I do love him. I know you don’t understand that, and I’m sorry. I wish you could. I deserve to love him.”
“He rejected your love.”
Her hand flattened over his heart. “I think … he tried to, maybe, because he was confused about the stars, or what he needed. He was afraid. He’s dying and losing himself, and maybe it reminds him of losing her. Dalat. My father loved her more than anything. More than the island, more than us. That was his choice. And when she died he fell to pieces because there was nothing else! That’s what comes of choosing to love something above all others, instead of widening your heart. If
