“Tell me,” Raoul says, folding himself onto the bench next to Kel. “I’ve heard Dom’s version, but I want to hear yours.”
Kel looks at him, weary after the long day’s ride. They had made it back to Fort Mastiff today, at least, and she’s glad for the promise of a real bed to sleep in. “My lord,” she says, when Raoul’s gaze doesn’t move away from hers, “is there anything more to tell? Dom was there.”
“That's true, he was.” Raoul rests his elbows on the table, his chin on his hands, and sighs. “But, Kel, you know there’s a difference between being along for the ride and being in charge.”
The idea of any more food seems utterly impossible now. Kel eyes her bowl—half-finished—and then picks it up. “Somewhere a little more private,” she says, because Raoul is just as stubborn as she is. He lets her return the bowl to the kitchen staff before leading her through Fort Mastiff to the very nice quarters he’s been assigned as a visiting commander. At every turn, there’s another reminder of how many more resources the Crown was able to give to military matters than to the people of the realm. It’s an old ache, but the new bruises on her soul mean she can’t forget it anymore.
But there, too, are her people. Not all of them (never all of them, anymore; she’d been taught how to lose a soldier but losing a civilian she was sworn to protect is different), but enough that her progress with Raoul is slowed by the people who want to thank her once more for what she did. They don’t stay long—she thinks they’re intimidated by Raoul’s towering bulk—but the smiles and handclasps and “Gods all bless” are still there, not quite a balm but… something, trying to work its way into her battered heart and soothe it.
Raoul’s quarters are nothing special; utilitarian and sparse, meant to be used by more than one person in succession. The only things of Raoul’s are his kit, familiar as her own from long rides with the Own. It’s in good condition, she sees after her habitual glance; no surprise there. Raoul sits on the bed, heavy, eyes soft and sad. Kel’s own eyes prick, and she closes them as she sits on the desk chair, ignoring the cloak draped over its back.
Kel prided herself on Yamani calm as a page, and it got her through being a squire, but now— She swallows, and then lifts her eyes to meet Raoul’s as she says, “It was hard.” The words are simple, obvious even, but she doesn’t know where else to start. “I had to do my duty.”
Raoul laughs, but she’s heard his laughter often enough to know this one; it’s rough with emotion, the laugh of a man who doesn’t know another sound to make. “Kel, believe me, we all know that. It’s why I sent Dom after you, and why Dom and his squad already knew where I was sending them. Even Lord Wyldon knew he’d been an idiot as soon as he got back to Mastiff.” He pauses, and the corners of his mouth lift slightly. “Did he tell you that?”
Wordlessly, Kel shakes her head. “My lord—”
“Kel, today of all days, I am not your lord.” He runs a hand through his hair, grown just long enough that Kel can see it starting to curl and tangle, and heaves another sigh. “I am your friend. I am not asking you to tell me about Scanra and Blayce and everything else and expecting you to tell me because of your loyalty to your knight-master. I’m not even asking because I’m a commander of the warfront and you snuck behind enemy lines.
“I’m asking because you’re a young knight whose progress I’m very proud of, and I want to know what it felt like to do your duty despite everything, and I want to know that you are still going to serve this country that we both love so dearly despite the bad decisions we’re sometimes asked to abide by.” He stops, and Kel’s struck, for the first time in years, by the depth and intensity of his eyes. When he starts again, his words are softer. “I have done many things I am proud of in service to this country, but what you did this past week is above and beyond what any knight is expected to do. I once told you about the kinds of warriors there are in a realm, Kel. Do you remember?”
“Knights of the realm,” Kel says, voice quiet through the tightness in her throat and the pain in her chest. “Soldiers. Commanders, like you said I was becoming.” She pauses, and whispers the last one: “Heroes.”
Raoul nods, mouth crooking into a smile. “You know what I’m going to say already, don’t you?”
“It isn’t heroism to do your duty,” Kel protests, finding her voice again even as the leaden thud of her heart reminds her that duty wasn’t the only thing propelling her forwards.
“Dom tells me that a seer foresaw your coming and called you ‘The Protector of the Small’.” Raoul shakes his head, though what his disbelief is at, Kel isn’t sure. “Dom tells me that Neal says you told him you went into the Chamber of the Ordeal a second time and came out with a mission from the chamber to kill Blayce the Gallan. Dom isn’t prone to telling tall tales when it comes to you, Kel. If I were talking about someone else, do you think you’d say they were just an ordinary knight, or an ordinary noble, doing their duty and nothing else?”
Kel looks down at her hands, scarred and bruised with evidence of her actions. She can’t speak through the tears that are pressing through her throat. Raoul leans forward and places a hand on her knee. The room isn’t big, and both of them are. It’s not hard for him to make the contact, and at the touch, Kel feels tears start to trickle down her cheeks despite her attempts to prevent them.
“I don’t tell you this to embarrass you,” Raoul says, voice very gentle. “But I saw Alanna’s rise. She blazed like the sun, impossible to ignore. You? You’re a hearth-fire, Kel. Steady and true and doing all the work that needs to be done. Most people won’t hear the story of what you did, or they’ll only hear the bits that are easy to believe. You led a mission to rescue captured Tortallans and you brought them home. That’s enough for most people to know, and maybe that part is doing your duty, and maybe you’ll just be seen as a good example of a noble knight.
“But your people know better, and even if they’re good at keeping their mouths shut, the story will live on in the north.” Raoul squeezes her knee, voice wry. “You’re going to be a hero to them, whether you like it or not. They’re sensible people, your northerners, but they’re still going to talk about you and all your animals and the people who followed you—because you are a commander, Kel, whatever other stories people may tell about you. Heroes often aren’t, so gods be thanked that whatever else people may call you, you’re a commander beneath all that.”
“I don’t want to be a hero,” Kel whispers, finding her voice again. “I just wanted my people back.”
“We don’t get to tell our own stories, Kel. The people around us get to tell them for us, and a lot of the time they make us sound bigger and brighter than we really are.” Raoul leans back, and the bed squeaks. “I don’t know what you’re going to do next, but I’d bet on you going back to your unglamourous work again soon enough.”
Kel laughs at that, hiccoughing a little as her throat relaxes. She shakes her own head and looks up at Raoul, noticing finally that his eyes, too, are tear-shiny. “How else can I keep my head from floating into the clouds?”
Raoul’s startled chuckle bursts out of him louder than Kel expected, but as it echoes through the room they’re both smiling again. “Mithros bless you, Kel; I don’t know that I’d still have a sense of humor so soon after everything.”
“Dom and Neal and Owen are terrible influences,” Kel agrees. She sighs, and leans back. “Did you actually want to hear it?” she asks, heart lighter than it had been thirty minutes ago. “Or was that just an excuse to speechify at me?”
Raoul scowls at her, but they both know he doesn’t mean it. “Impertinent,” he informs her. “You’ve been spending too much time with those boys.”
“You sent one of them to me, and you can't be surprised the others came too.” Kel rolls her shoulders back, trying to loosen the knots that feel almost inevitable by now, and asks again: “Do you want to hear it?”
“I do,” Raoul says, quiet and serious once more. “I’ll get the official report either way, but I’d rather hear it from your lips.”
Kel nods, takes a steadying breath, and begins to speak.