Rather than Resenting: Ch. 30

A Willing Heart

Notes:

Okay, I will warn you by saying there is A LOT of skipping around in this chapter! Meaning it goes from Janner's POV to Artham's to Janner's again...it's a little all over the place. And the next chapter is kind of similar in terms of POV switching.

*****

Janner's heart was pounding by the time he reached Amrah's cell. He had stopped to get two cloaks, one for him and one for her, as well as the keys to the cell before going into the dungeons. If Kalmar hadn't told him exactly where to find them, he would have never been successful.

He brought the cloaks because he planned on melding with her outside. They could have done it inside the castle or even in the dungeon if he truly felt like it, but that made him feel uneasy for a reason he wasn't quite certain of. Just inside the snowy forest would be the best place to meld with her, since he wouldn't have to worry about anyone stopping them or noticing them underneath the cover the trees provided. It would be easy to get to and from there as well, considering how close it was to Rysen.

“Amrah,” he called softly, standing just on the other side of the door. She was turned the other way and facing the wall, humming something. 

She looked around and smiled at him, putting something that looked like it was made of scraps of cloth away in her satchel at the same time. “Janner,” she replied gently. “I don't mean to sound rude or intrusive, but don't you have somewhere to be tonight?”

Janner looked at her, momentarily puzzled. “Yes, but how do you know?”

She smiled again. “It's been thirteen years since it happened,” she murmured. “But even if I didn't know the date then, I've known for a few years, at least. In that moment…thank you for righting what my mother and Gnag and I did wrong. It cost you dearly.”

His throat burning, Janner blinked back tears and slipped his hand into his pocket in an attempt to convince it to pick up the keyring. “It hurt my family more,” he whispered, feeling his heart break. That was the reason he was scared to meld with Amrah.

“I'm sorry,” Amrah replied, tears in her eyes. “But why are you here when you should be upstairs?”

Janner shook himself and pulled the keyring out of his pocket. “Because,” he said, finding the right key and fiddling with the lock to get it open. “Your stay in this cell is over.” The door of the cell clanged open even with the gentlest of touches. “Please come with me,” he added, stepping into the cell and holding out his right hand for her to grasp. 

Amrah closed her eyes briefly and when she opened them, Janner saw grieving acceptance written on her face. A moment later, she took his hand — her wrist felt so thin and delicate, like a bird’s bones — and rose to her feet a little shakily. 

“Here,” Janner said as he wrapped the thick cloak around her thin shoulders. “It'll be cold outside.”

“Why don't you just do it down in the dungeons?” Amrah asked unexpectedly once they had made their way outside into the snowy night, somehow undetected even by the guards at the gate. Rather, the guards saw no reason for suspicion when Janner walked past them, leading an elderly woman. They probably assumed he was escorting her home and had even given them a lantern.

“I'm sorry?” Janner turned toward her, unable to see more than distorted golden glows and shadows on her face.

“You can execute me anywhere,” she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Why do it outside on display for all to see? I understand why you might want to do it tonight. How fitting it seems. But why in public?”

“Amrah,” Janner whispered gently. “I didn't come for you to kill you.”

“Then why do you have your sword?” she asked, hesitating.

He smiled at her. “Standard Throne Warden Procedure. I'm supposed to have it with me at all times.”

Amrah was silent for another few minutes as they trudged through the snow, the powder crunching beneath their feet. If the season when as it normally did, it would melt soon, and even sooner than that the fields would be marked for planting.

“Then why did you come and get me?” She asked, sounding a little puzzled. 

Janner held back a sigh of sadness mingled with joy. “You'll see soon.”

*****

“Uncle Artham, have you seen him?!”

Artham dipped Arundelle for the last part of the dance before the music ended, then straightened, apologizing to her.

“Seen who?” He asked, just a touch of irritation for Kalmar in his voice. If he was being asked where the diplomat of one of the many kingdoms or cities in Skree or the Green Hollows was, he was going to respond, “no.” The Ballroom was packed with what felt like (and likely was) hundreds of people, and at that point he knew where Arundelle and Asteria were and pretty much no one else.

Kalmar groaned. “Janner! He's supposed to give his speech any minute, and I haven't seen him since we announced Cerlon’s birth! Mama and Sara both left so I can’t ask them, all Evnia and Elquinn said he came by and showed them how to dance before disappearing again, and Galya has been with me almost the whole evening, either dealing with people or dancing, so she definitely doesn’t know anything. I already found and asked literally everyone else. Oskar responded with some quote that I think means he doesn’t know anything, but I can’t be sure.”

“I rescued him from some people who were thanking him a little while ago. But let me go look,” he said slowly, glancing at Arundelle for approval and receiving it. “And if worst comes to worst you can just make up your own speech.”

Kalmar dug his hand into his pocket and eventually fished out a crumpled wad of paper. “Actually, I have his.”

“Even better,” Artham replied, flashing him a smile that was so incredibly fake, a distracted child should have been able to see through it. Somehow Kalmar didn't, though. 

If he hadn't known that Janner had chosen that night of all nights to free Amrah from her cell, he wouldn't have been concerned. He would simply have suggested that perhaps Janner was upstairs escaping from humanity until he had to give his speech or talking with Oskar about books of all sorts. But he did know that Janner had gone to free Amrah and because of that, he was worried. With the way he knew his nephew had banished the bitterness from his heart, Artham doubted he would revert back to it and outright end Amrah's life. Still, the thought briefly traipsed across his mind, and he felt his wings rustle nervously. 

Not only that, but Janner had made plans to be gone and provisions for such an occurrence by giving Kalmar his speech. That meant he needed to be found. Fast.

*****

After a good bit of walking and dodging (but not too much), they reached the perfect spot in the forest. It was far enough away that no one would see them if they looked in that direction but not so far that it would be impossible to walk back to the castle. Not only that, but in the clearing bubbled a little brook that has the tenacity to push its way into winter’s chilly nature. Janner smiled at the sight of it. 

“We're here,” he said simply once they stood in the clearing.

Amrah was silent but looked as though she wanted to say something, so he waited for her to do so. “Janner, “ she whispered eventually. “I don't know what's going to happen next, but I want you to know something.” He nodded encouragingly and waited for her to go on. “You're the reason I am who I am today,” she said joyously. “Not the person I used to be, but the person I am now. When you told me that Gnag's true name was Davion, that he was loved, and that he admitted that he was wrong, it made me angry at first. Furious, really,” she admitted. “But the more I thought about it, the more confused and surprised I became. 

“If you were telling the truth, it meant Gnag said he was wrong. He never admitted to being wrong, not in all the years I knew him. He was always right. So if your words were true, he would have had to have been told something amazing to admit his mistakes. 

“I started looking for it everywhere. I went to the Ban Ronan library several times under disguise and even saw you there once, I went ahead and asked people what the truth of everything was, and since they didn't know who I was, they answered me. Eventually I learned it had to be the Maker Who was the answer, but that was difficult to believe. I had always thought He was wrong and that he hated Gnag. It turned out that couldn't have been further from the truth.” She smiled a little at the memory. 

“I began praying to Him, and eventually I came to believe I had to do something to atone for my wrongs, and if that means my execution, that was what it meant. So I came here to apologize, expecting death. But since you told me that isn't your intention, I'm not quite sure what I'm getting right now.”

Janner smiled at her and pulled the holoré out of his pocket. The clearing shone with its sparkling beauty, and he knew it would only be by the Maker's will that no one saw it. Or perhaps it would be His will they did see it. “I'm helping atone for your wrongs.”

Amrah stared at him, completely stunned. “What?” she whispered. 

“Well, the Maker is truly the one who atoned for them,” Janner corrected himself. “He gave you a heart of flesh in place of a heart of stone. But He asked me to trade your twisted flesh for that which is new, beautiful, and unmarred. He asked me to meld with you.”

“But why me?” She asked in hushed awe even as fear flickered across her face. “No one has committed crimes against Him like mine. And no one has committed crimes against you like I have! You of all people should—”

“I of all people,” Janner interrupted her. “Should be most willing to forgive. I have been within His shining Presence and basked in the wonder of His Peace. I have been forgiven again and again, far more times than I can count. I want to do this for you, Amrah. I want to show you I forgive you.”

Amrah hesitated and shook her head. “But what about your family?” She asked in earnest worry. “What if…what if it kills you?”

Once again, the one thing still holding him back in the slightest rose to the surface. How could he bear the thought of hurting them while healing Amrah? He was not the one who would suffer because of his death, if it happened, his family was. Sara and Evnia and Elquinn and Cerlon and Kalmar and Artham and Nia and Leeli and all the others whom he loved dearly. Was he willing to bring such a thing upon them for the sake of redeeming one whose transgressions against their family and against the world were so great?

Janner closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he was blinking back tears, sorrowful peace in his heart. “Then it is the Maker's Will,” he whispered thickly. 

He could bear waiting no longer, and he forced the trembling words to come forth: “Amrah, sing the song. Please.”

There was silence for a few moments before she began singing, and as the high and enchanting melody rose through the trees, the stone in his hand trembled, growing brighter, and he felt his heart ache, he prayed it would be his sacrifice and not his family’s.

*****

Notes:

And I will share the aftermath (that I wrote last night because that was when I got the motivation to do it) tomorrow^^

In that last line, he is essentially asking the Maker to spare his life for his family even if that means not sparing his body. Meaning that it's not a requirement, but he would love to live for their sake even if it means it physically wrecks him.