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summoning marks for a reason. What is it you
wish to know?”
Dorian tucked away the truth she’d thrown
at him, the mirror she held up to all he’d once
been and had become. He had not been a true
prince—not in spirit, not in deeds. He’d tried
to be, but too late. He had acted too late. He
doubted he was doing much better as king.
Certainly not when he’d dismissed Adarlan
out of his own guilt and anger, questioned
whether it should be saved.
As if there were ever a possibility that it
didn’t deserve to be.
He asked at last, “Am I ready to go to
Morath?”
She alone would know. Had witnessed
things far worse than any Manon or Elide had
beheld.
Kaltain again glanced to Damaris. “You
know the answer.”