He clenches his working hand. “And then I realized, somewhere along the way. Somewhere between stealing my hundredth gold bracelet from some noble’s wrist to give to the urchins to pawn for food, I realized it. A kingdom is only as good as its king. Which means the cornerstone of the people’s well-being relies on what kind of person the king is. And left in a vacuum of power and pleasure, the majority of people become selfish. Princes raised to be kings most of all.”

“A king’s worth is one potato,” I say softly.

He looks over at me and smiles, his broad lips sad.

“Yes. It’s a system doomed to untold cruelty at worst, and negligence at best.”

“So…what will you do?”

His hawk-eyes pierce back out at the ocean. “Change. I don’t know how, precisely, or when. But if I’m to do what’s best for the people, for my people, then I must change things. Even if it means upheaval. Even if it means temporary strife. The fact that I must change it alone is a burden. But it’s my burden to bear. And, hopefully, the last.”

“You could just be king,” I insist. “You would be a good one.”

“That…” He chuckles, the sound bitter. “That’s the conceit, Zera. Don’t you see? Thinking that one person alone could decide justly and without bias the correct thing for millions of people…that is what being king means. It’s an impossibility. But it’s a convenient one, isn’t it? If the king is bad, if the people are suffering, it’s the king’s fault, not his ministers’. Not the systems in place that make the nobles richer and the people poorer. The king’s. An arbiter of impossible decisions and a scapegoat to place blame on all in one.”

I’m speechless. His words strike deep, and are terrifying.

“To think I could rule a country alone, decide what’s best for a whole country’s people completely alone… I’d be no better than Varia. I’d be holding on to power fearfully, instead of hopefully, and using it as a weapon as she uses the Bone Tree and the valkerax.”

“Lucien—”

“You made your decision.” He turns to me, our chests close now. “You said you would choose, no matter what. That to choose was your right. And you’re correct. To choose is your right. But to choose is everyone’s right, not just yours. Not just mine. Not just the king’s, and not just Varia’s. It’s all of ours. That’s why I have to stop her. That’s why, even if she’s my sister, even if I love her—”

His voice splinters, throat bobbing, and he reaches out for me. I take his hands in mine, holding them close to my face so he knows I’m here. So he can feel my heat, my realness.