Reign the Earth (The Elementae #1)(55)

I looked at him, and he was tense and still beside me. “Do you?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, resting my head in my palms.

“Maybe he is,” he said softly. “You spoke to him about the islands?”

“Yes,” I said. “He admitted it. I thought I could accept it.” I shook my head. “I thought—maybe, in time—but I can’t. I won’t. Not after today.”

“What happened today?” he asked again.

“I realized that he hasn’t changed. It would be one thing if he regretted it. He doesn’t. He says he refuses to regret.”

Galen nodded. “He’s a king. If he were to admit a mistake, his enemies would use it against him. He was such a young king—he didn’t have the luxury of being wrong.”

“That doesn’t make him right,” I told him.

“No,” he agreed. “It doesn’t. But it does make it complicated. If he had been overthrown, we would have been killed. All of us. People nearly succeeded several times, but Calix—he held strong. He learned to be inflexible.”

“And where did he learn to hate?” I demanded, glaring at him. “Because you don’t hate the way he does. Danae doesn’t. How can you defend him?”

“He’s my brother,” Galen said, bristling. “Sometimes he’s been a bad king in order to protect his siblings, and sometimes he’s been a great king and sacrificed our needs for the many. I don’t envy him any of the choices he has had to make.” Galen’s jaw worked. “How can you even ask me such a question? You would never condemn your brother, and I would never ask you to.”

I thought of Rian, taking lives when I hadn’t thought he was capable of it. That, at least, I did understand. But I couldn’t will myself to bring Rian into this argument, so I stayed silent.

“He does what he believes is right,” he continued, issuing a heavy sigh. “I saw what Calix did with you in the mills. And the quaesitori—they developed an irrigation system to get water to crops in droughts,” he said. “That arguably changed the nation. And they developed an incendiary powder from a yellow mineral found in the mountains and sugar, of all things, and that’s been able to save hundreds of men from breaking their backs in the mines.”

“Incendiary powder?” I asked. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“It can catch fire,” he said. “But instead of burning like oil, it bursts—particularly when it’s contained rather than out in the open.”

“And that saves lives?” I asked.

“Mining is hard work. If we can save a single hour of manual labor, it’s a great gift.” His shoulders lifted. “But I also see the danger in that substance. Calix wants to fit it onto ships to allow us to disable our enemies without engaging them on the water.”

“But that prison,” I said, shuddering. “I cannot reconcile what they’re doing there.”

“What prison?” he asked, his sharp face creasing with displeasure.

“You didn’t know?” I asked, shaking my head. “The Summer Palace is home to Elementae who are being used for his inquest.” I thought of the bruises and all the blood, and I couldn’t form any more words.

His gaze shot out over the enclosures, fixing on the palace in the hills like he could see right through the walls. “I will look into that.”

I shook my head. “How is that different from this?” I asked, sweeping my hand out. “They are slaves for a different service.”

His eyes met mine. “It is,” he said.

I wasn’t sure what his promise to “look into that” would yield, but it did ease my mind a little. “Thank you,” I said softly.

“What will you do?” he asked.

“Do?” I repeated bitterly. “What do you do?”

“I make his reign secure,” he told me. “I make it so that he doesn’t have to make such terrible choices anymore.”

“And you lessen the impact when he does,” I said. “Like with those men guarding the gold.”

A muscle flared in his jaw, but he nodded, looking away from me.

I sighed. “Maybe I can’t fix him, or change him. But I can change the world that our children inherit. My children won’t learn to hate. They will learn to rule with grace and wisdom, and they will change this country when they do.”

“That’s a beautiful vision,” he said, his voice rough and soft. “I will defend them with my life.” He swallowed, the action moving his throat. “You must be hungry,” he said. “I’ll call for some food to be sent up.”

With a sigh, I nodded. He turned away from me. Curious, I followed the pathway to the edge, chasing the pink splash of light that heralded the sunset. Finding that the balcony actually turned the corner, I rounded it. There was another door to another room, and this part faced the water, the glorious sun just starting to make the sky glow above the horizon.

The water looked peaceful and distant, but the view was marred by the deep scars in the earth for the shipbuilding dry docks. From the Oculus I could see there were gates that barely restrained the ocean tide; I could only imagine the fury of the ocean as those gates were lifted.

It made me think of Kata and her gifts and, inescapably, about my own.