The Rebel Assassin

Chapter 23: Hero of the Revolution

I left the library in a vaguely sick fog. Dead Ageless. Dead Guardians. No, not dead — extinct.

The extinction of... what? A species? Were we that different from other people, from normal people, that we weren't human? Of course I'd heard whispers of that sort my whole life. There were always those who muttered mistrustfully that Guardians were inhuman, unnatural. But those claims had always seemed remote and ridiculous. They were the ramblings of the overly paranoid.

But the idea that Guardians could become extinct, that was inhuman and unnatural. It was frightening. I had to remind myself, as I shivered, that I wasn't the one in danger. If Ari was right, if this would be the result of a Solangian revolution, it would effect only the next generations of Guardians.

I was safe. Nemia and Galahad were safe. But could I be responsible for the end of the Guardian Cycle? Could I bear that responsibility?

Looking up from the street I had been following, I saw Dell standing with a scowl outside our inn, reminding me that I was being overly self-important. The responsibility didn't rest on my shoulders alone. It would take many people to overthrow the monarchy and ensure the end of the Cycle — if Ari was even right that it was coming.

I lifted a hand to Dell in greeting, hoping I didn't look as upset as I felt. Since encountering the rebels I had faced far more than I could have ever imagined — a weapon that targeted Guardians, my long-lost brothers, the death of my teacher, betrayal of my princess, the revelation about my true identity — but the news that I might be one of the final generations of Guardians was the most shocking of all.

Who would protect Solangia, if there were no Guardians?

Dell snapped her fingers in front of my face. I must have missed something she said in response to my wave.

"Laerhart. I'm talking to you. I have the notes from our meeting with the representatives."

"Okay?"

She thrust a leather bag heavy with reams of paper at me, and sighed sharply when I didn't take it from her. "You didn't attend. The least you can do it catch up."

"No one asked me to attend. In fact, Cyrus made it pretty clear he thinks I would ruin everything with my mere presence." Just because I was a recurring aspect of things going wrong didn't mean I was causing the problems.

"So? You made that whole fuss about having to come on our mission just to shrug and sit back when Cyrus thinks he doesn't need your help?"

I had to physically stop myself from shrugging and leaning back against the wall. "You know I was just saying what I had to so Ysmay would let me come. I'm here to keep an eye on Galahad, make sure..." That the rebels don't corrupt him. "...that Joshua doesn't brainwash him into joining Roman." Well, I needed to do both.

That was the wrong thing to say. She let the bag drop, snapping at the end of the leather strap. "I don't know why I'm always surprised to hear you flat out admit that you don't care about anyone's agenda besides your own. You're certainly not shy about showing it with your actions. Why Ysmay keeps you around is beyond me."

"I'm hard to get rid of," I said, innocuous.

"God knows why."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I passed her, shoulders smacking together as I went into the inn. All I'd had since breakfast was a few sips of tea. I needed food, and time to think.

She followed me, seething audibly. "You don't care about the rebellion. You're only involved because — because — I don't know, you decided it would be fun, probably. Meanwhile some of us have given everything we've got to it. It's infuriating."

Well, that outburst explained why she'd been pissed at me since I left the capital. We'd gotten along fine when I first fell in with Aiden, so I'd wondered where the animosity came from.

She was glaring at me, waiting for a response. I shrugged and stuffed a chunk of bread from a bowl on the table into my mouth. Around my mouthful I said, indistinctly, "If I apologized to everyone who found me infuriating I'd never have time for anything else."

She took a large, reflexive breath, as if about to scream, but then held it for a second as I swallowed my bread. Before I could take another bite, she snatched it from my hand, dropped it and stomped it flat. Her voice was soft. "You're disrespectful. To the entire movement."

"By not pledging my unending loyalty to it? I prefer not to make vows I might not keep." I was angry now. She didn't know what I'd been dealing with, or how hungry I was.

"What does that mean?" Her snarl was low enough not to draw attention from the other people scattered around the inn's common room.

"I left the capital Phoenix because I couldn't trust you. When Jaden was killed, you were actual suspects in my mind. Do you not see how messed up that is? I shouldn't have been worrying whether or not you might have murdered a man who never hurt the Phoenix. But I was, and that's proof of your faults, not mine. If I can't trust you — your movement — to not put my friends in danger, then I won't pledge loyalty to it. My loyalty is to my friends and the people who need me. And if the Phoenix ever conflicts with that, then there is no contest who I'll turn on."

It was putting into words what I'd never quite articulated to myself, but it was right. My original whole-hearted support for the revolution had ended the moment I realized they would hurt people I loved. I hadn't gone running back to the revolution in Maenar because I believed in it. I'd gone back to it because I believed it could help me find or avenge Jaden. Then I'd stayed because certain people in the movement had become my people. And I would stay as long as it provided safety for me and Nemia and others I needed to protect, but not a moment longer. As much as I believed that King Aeric and his daughter did not deserve the throne, I would leave the revolution if I had to in a heartbeat.

I wasn't in it for the ideals. I was in it for my family and for freedom. However I could ensure the safety of both, I would pursue.

"You're— you're— faithless. And cowardly. And..." She was clearly struggling for the words that would hurt me most when she spat, "And you're a bad person, Morane Laerhart."

Unfortunately, I had already come to the same conclusion about a second before, and the sting was already fading.

Yes, I was unbelievably selfish. And disrespectful and aggravating and everything else she threw at me. But hadn't I always been at peace with that? Hadn't I always told myself that if the world would hate me no matter what, I may as well throw all of myself into protecting the few I loved, and screw everyone else? The principles I had developed in the face of the nobility's scorn still held true.

I wasn't a good person. I wouldn't sacrifice what I wanted for the good of Solangia. But if what I wanted coincided with the revolution, then I would fight tooth and nail and bloody claws for it.

That acceptance was a shield between me and anything Dell could say. Safe within the relief of knowing myself, I said, "You can hate me, but you have to admit I'm right about how much I can trust you. And I've helped the revolution plenty along the way."

"Yes," she said, spiteful. "Yes. You've stolen for us and rescued rebels and recruited the Silvers. I heard that speech you gave from people who were there that night. Real catchy. But you didn't do any of it out of selflessness or belief. It's all games to you. You're just accidentally good at it." She looked me up and down and couldn't seem to find what she was looking for, which was probably a reaction. Without malice, she finally said, "It's incredible that the hero of our movement doesn't give a crap. You'll go down in history books, and you don't even deserve it."

I grabbed an apple as she left and checked my dignity for bruising. Finding no dents, I grabbed the bag of notes she'd left with my other hand and headed for my room, chewing thoughtfully. There were a lot of notes to get caught up on, and Ari's information to digest.

After all, Dell was right — I was naturally goodat helping the Phoenix. If I could get everything ordered in my head, there was probably something I could use to make this mission a success.