Page 73 of Salt in the Seas
Gaeren flinched, his hand automatically brushing what was furtherproof that permanently placing things on his skin was a bad idea. “You know, Fernandus basically gave me permission to cut it out.”
“Is that so?” Larkos said. “Then why haven’t you?”
“I’ve tried more than once. It’ll happen when the time is right.” He let his hand drift to his starlock, the renewed idea that its meaning might be connected to his bond almost more daunting than helpful. Was it significant because he should keep it? Or because he was meant to break it?
Larkos snorted. “Sometimes your vision is awfully narrow for someone trained to rule an entire nation.”
Gaeren leaned back against the bulkhead. “How so? You think I should keep the bond?”
Larkos glanced back at Gaeren’s palm. “Calia might think so, romantic that she is, but I suspect that bond will never fully take. Maybe it never had a chance, but it certainly doesn’t now.”
Gaeren frowned, trying to parse out what the older man left unsaid.
“That’s not what I’m talking about anyway.” Larkos held out his arm. “You keep staring at my tattoo, distracted by the faded rim and trying to figure out what that might mean, but you’ve never paid attention to the rest of the tattoo around it.”
Gaeren leaned forward, taking in the strange scene surrounding the Wheel. He hadn’t noticed it before because it connected to the rest of Larkos’ tattoos, forming a sleeve on the man’s arm with images all blending together. He couldn’t keep track of which ones were new all the time. But now as he studied it, different elements began to stand out. Crowns and swords. A mix of winex and soldiers. It almost resembled the scene at the Myndren Mountains when they’d worked together to fight against Mayvus, but he’d gotten this tattoo long before that battle. Besides, the longer he studied it, the more he realized they were taking down a dragon.
“You have a problem with Durriken?” Gaeren asked.
Larkos huffed his irritation. “No more than the rest of the Vendarans.”
Even as Larkos spoke, Gaeren finally caught the hidden meaning.The dragon bore the Elanesse coat of arms. “Is this some sort of Recreant symbol?”
Larkos shrugged. “It’s more of a reminder that as individuals we can’t do much to stop the throne, but together we can take it down. One piece at a time.”
His words were strangely reminiscent of something Orra had said to Gaeren a while back about needing to devour the moon one bite at a time. The image should have disturbed him. It might have a year ago, but he’d seen the way his parents abused their power and he’d also seen alternatives. Now that he saw the Wheel of Magic tattoo as part of the larger picture, it made more sense.
“Are you suggesting that by bringing down the throne, you’re also going to be weakening the Wheel of Magic?” Gaeren asked.
“Your family has controlled most of the progenies over the years. Clearly not all since we saw how Mayvus stole them from the schools. But if we’re not careful with how we handle the transition of power, a lot more could be at stake than our freedom. Most Recreants want an immediate power shift, but without a plan in place, the results could be detrimental—and not just for your family.”
Gaeren’s gut tightened as his age-old fears rose to the surface. How could they remove the monarchy without hurting his family? Would the Recreants even want to? Or were they bent on revenge?
“I think the ramifications will be bigger than even the Recreants realize,” Larkos went on, shifting the ship’s wheel once more as the current threatened to send them farther east. “But I’m honestly not sure if the crumbling magic system will help us take down the throne or if taking down the throne will weaken the Wheel of Magic even more.”
Gaeren nodded slowly, thinking of his question for Orra about her hair, the way starlocks were no longer being handed out as frequently. But if Orra had been grounded for the last thousand years, would she even know?
The last bit of the Sun’s glory sank beneath the Vendaran coast as it went to sleep. They were close to rounding the Southern Horn, and by the next Sun’s sleep, they’d be aiming west instead of south, watching it sink beneath the waves instead of land.
“I wish I had an answer for you,” Gaeren said, “but everything I’ve learned about politics has come from you. It’s almost like the Recreants tasked you with training me.” He laughed a bit, but the older man shot him a nervous glance.
“Just because I was tasked with it doesn’t mean I was manipulating you.”
Gaeren tensed before pushing off the bulkhead. “Are you saying—was I an assignment for you?”
Larkos sighed. “When a priest or a priestess is tasked by the Sun to teach the people about the Sun’s glory, does that mean the servants of the Sun don’t care about the worshipers? They believe in their cause and want to share it with those they care about. It doesn’t matter that they were also instructed to do it. It was still done from love.”
Gaeren clenched his jaw, wanting anger to brew from his frustration. “I still feel a fool for only recognizing it now.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I think you would have gotten there on your own. Your parents saw to that by sending you out to sea so much. And then Enla kept sending you too.”
“At her own expense,” Gaeren muttered, thinking of the ways she’d suffered staying behind to take the brunt of her parents’ training and focus. Not only had she become entrenched in their ways, but she was slowly going mad because of it.
“Also an act of love,” Larkos pointed out. His face still held guilt.
Maybe Gaeren could have said something to alleviate the other man’s discomfort. But he wasn’t ready with the bruise to his pride being so fresh. “I’ll go get Thallahan. Since you suggested we turn the night into a party, I assume that means you’re willing to put in an extra shift at the helm.”
Larkos chuckled. “It’s not like I’m much of a dancer anyway.”
