Chapter 22: Nothing Is Owed

Rowena's POV

Torin had been telling me about the day his sister tried to cook for forty wolves at Greywater.

"She put salt in the coffee and sugar in the stew, and then she told everyone it was a regional tradition."

"They ate it?"

"Every bowl. She's terrifying."

I laughed until I had to put my head on my knees.

It was the first time in a month I had laughed without it hurting.

Someone knocked at the door.

Torin was off the bed before I had stopped, standing between me and the wood.

"It's the King," a voice said, quiet. "Only for a minute."

I got up and put my father's coat on over my nightdress.

"Let him in the corridor," I said. "I'll come out."

Magnus stood under the lamp in a clean shirt with his hands empty.

He did not look at Torin.

"I'm going to ask you one question," he said. "And whatever you say, that's the end of it."

"Ask."

"Is there any way back?"

I took my time.

I wanted him to hear it was a real answer.

"No."

"Not in a year, or ten?"

"No, Magnus."

He nodded slowly.

"Thank you," he said.

It was the strangest thing he had ever said to me.

"You asked me once at the gate what our son was going to be called," he said. "I had no answer. I still don't."

"I know."

"I'm glad you never pressed me. A name from me is the one thing of his I couldn't have spoiled."

He bowed his head to me, the way he had once bowed to the Council, and went down the corridor.

I watched him until the turn.

Then I went back in and shut the door, and Torin was holding something out to me in his open palm.

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