He nods and reaches out to squeeze my wrist. With no other parent figure to talk to, I’d often pretended my grandfather was still alive and would speak with him, but the last time was after the Second Sercen War. I’d returned from the front lines a broken shell of a man. Mael and I spent many years healing together, and when Amya was born, she became the only bright light in my life for a very long time.

I confided in him, talking to him for hours about what we’d seen and done. It felt like he was the only one who’d understand.

“I wish I could have answered you,” he says sadly.

“Can you see what happens to us?”

“Only those who share Imperial magic and only when you call for us.”

“I wish I’d known that,” I say, and he gives me a sad smile.

“I won’t lie and claim I was always a good king. I made mistakes. I did so many things wrong, but my greatest regret will always be how I failed my only son.”

“How did you fail him?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I wish I knew. As a small boy, there was always something dark about him. A deep remorselessness. I put it down to the immaturity of youth, but as he grew, it never really went away. When I realized it was a problem, it was too late to do anything about it. He was already his own person.

“But when you spoke to me, I understood you turned out . . . differently,” he says, tipping his head as he studies me. “And when I realized that, it eased so many worries.”

“I’m no saint,” I say. “I’ve done many things I’m not proud of.”

“Perhaps, but you’ve never carried that same darkness, Nadir. You don’t delight in the suffering of others the way he always has.”

I huff out a wry snort. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

Garnet throws his head back and laughs. It’s a warm sound, and my chest constricts, thinking about how different our lives might have been had he remained with us longer.

“Is what they say true?” I ask, needing to know. “Did my father force you to descend?”

The smile vanishes from Garnet’s face again.

“It wasn’t my choice,” he says. “I didn’t want to leave you or your mother. When you were born, I saw the way he looked at you. The way he—” My grandfather’s eyes flick to me with pity.

“Hated me,” I say. “It’s okay. I know.”

Garnet sighs and waves his hand as a goblet appears in his grip. He takes a long sip and sits back.