Maybe, he wrote.

Siri thought through their conclusions again. Looked at critically, she could see that they were just speculations. Yet everyone said that the other Returned couldn’t have children, and so why would the God King be different? That might just be a means of obfuscating the fact that they were bringing in a new person to be God King when they found one.

That still didn’t answer the most important question. What were they going to do to Susebron to get his Breaths away from him?

Susebron leaned back, staring up at the dark ceiling. Siri watched him, noting the look of sadness in his eyes. “What?” she asked.

He just shook his head.

“Please? What is it?”

He sat for a moment, then looked down, writing. If what you say is true, then the woman who raised me was not my mother. I would have been born to someone random out in the countryside. The priests would have taken me once I Returned, then raised me in the palace as the “son” of the God King they’d just killed.

Seeing him in pain made her insides twist. She moved around the blanket, sitting beside him, putting her arms around him and resting her head on his arm.

She’s the only person to have shown me real kindness in my life, he wrote. The priests, they revere me and care for me—or, at least, I assumed that they did. However, they never really loved me. Only my mother did that. And now I’m not sure I even know who she is.

“If she raised you, she’s your mother,” Siri said. “It doesn’t matter who gave birth to you.”

He didn’t respond to that.

“Maybe she was your real mother,” Siri said. “If they were going to bring you to the palace in secret, they might as well bring your mother too. Who better to care for you?”

He nodded, then scribbled on the board with one hand—the other was around Siri’s waist. Perhaps you are right. Though it now seems suspicious to me that she would die as she did. She was one of the few who could have told me the truth.

This seemed to make him even more sad, and Siri pulled him closer, laying her head on his chest.

Please, he wrote. Tell me of your family.

“My father was often frustrated with me,” Siri said. “But he did love me. Does love me. He just wanted me to do what they thought was right. And . . . well, the more time I spend in Hallandren, the more I wish I had listened to him, at least a little bit.

“Ridger was right above me. I was always getting him into trouble. He was the heir, and I had him thoroughly corrupted, at least until he got old enough to appreciate his duties. He’s a little like you. Very kindhearted, always trying to do what is right. He didn’t eat as many sweets, though.”

Susebron smiled faintly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Then there was Fafen. I didn’t really know her that well. She joined a monastery when I was still quite young—and I was glad. It’s seen as a duty in Idris to provide at least one child for the monasteries. They’re the ones who grow the food for the needy and take care of things that need to be done around the city. Pruning, washing, painting. Anything to be of service.”

He reached over. A little like a king, he wrote. Living a life to serve others.

“Sure,” Siri said. “Only they don’t get locked up and they can stop doing it, if they want. Either way, I’m glad it was Fafen and not me. I would have gone crazy living as a monk. They have to be pious all the time, and are supposed to be the least ostentatious in the city.”

Not a good match for your hair, he wrote.

“Definitely,” she said.

Though, he wrote, frowning slightly. It’s stopped changing colors so often lately.

“I’ve had to learn to control it better,” Siri said with a grimace. “People can read me too easily by it. Here.” She changed it from black to yellow, and he smiled, running his fingers through its lengthy locks.

“After Fafen,” Siri said, “there’s just the eldest, Vivenna. She’s the one you were supposed to marry. She spent her entire life preparing to move to Hallandren.”

She must hate me, Susebron wrote. Growing up knowing she would have to leave her family and live with a man she didn’t know.

“Nonsense,” Siri said. “Vivenna looked forward to it. I don’t think she can feel hatred. She was always just calm and careful and perfect.”

Susebron frowned.

“I sound bitter, don’t I?” Siri said, sighing. “I don’t mean to. I really do love Vivenna. She was always there, watching out for me. But it seemed to me that she made too many efforts to cover up for me. My big sister, pulling me out of trouble, scolding me calmly, then seeing that I wasn’t punished as much as I should have been.” She hesitated. “They’re all probably at home right now, worried sick about me.”

You sound like you’re worried about them, he wrote.

“I am,” she said. “I’ve been listening to the priests argue in the court. It doesn’t sound good, Seb. There are a lot of Idrians in the city and they’re being very reckless. The city guard was forced to send troops into one of the slums a few weeks back. That isn’t helping reduce tensions between our countries.”

Susebron didn’t write a response, but instead wrapped his arm around her again, pulling her close. It felt good to be held against him. Very good.

After a few minutes, he pulled his arm away and wrote again, awkwardly erasing first. I was wrong, you know.

“About what?”

About one of the things I said earlier. I wrote that my mother was the only person to ever show me love and kindness. That’s not true. There’s been another.

He stopped writing and looked at her. Then he glanced at the board again. You didn’t have to show me kindness, he wrote. You could have hated me for taking you from your family and your homeland. Instead, you taught me to read, befriended me. Loved me.

He stared at her. She stared at him. Then, hesitant, he leaned down and kissed her.

Oh, dear . . . Siri thought, a dozen objections popping into her head. She found it difficult to move, to resist, or to do anything.

Anything other than kiss him back.

She felt hot. She knew that they needed to stop, lest the priesthood get exactly what they were waiting for. She understood all of these things. Yet those objections began to seem less and less rational as she kissed him, as her breathing grew more hurried.

He paused, obviously uncertain what to do next. Siri looked up at him, breathing heavily, then pulled him down to kiss him again, feeling her hair bleed to a deep, passionate red.

At that point, she stopped caring about anything else. Susebron didn’t know what to do. But she did. I really am too hasty, she thought as she pulled off her shift. I need to get better at controlling my impulses.

Some other time.