Mari clasped her hands before her, her legs swinging freely over the tower’s edge. While he took in the view, she only stared into her lap so she might focus while she spoke.

“Cyrus, what is your purpose as king?”

He frowned.

“I don’t understand.”

“I’ve traveled all across Gadir, and every nation with a crown has a justification for their king’s rule. What is Thanet’s?”

The reason was one offered Cyrus since he was but a babe in a cradle, and he recited it like a student in class.

“Four hundred years ago, refugees from Gadir fled here from the Everlorn Empire, and the empire embargoed our island in retaliation. Our struggling realms turned on one another, beginning the War of Tides. Endarius declared such bloodshed unacceptable, and pledged allegiance to the Lythan family to unify Thanet under a single crown. With the Lion on our side, we ended the war, and ever since have ensured peace and prosperity for all generations.”

“It is a noble purpose,” Mari said. “But that’s not what drives you, is it?”

Cyrus chewed on his lower lip. How did he explain when he didn’t understand it himself?

“The thing is, while the four lords rule their minor realms, Vallessau was always ours. This city was special, to my family, to my line, to my own parents. I should want nothing more than to take it back from the empire, shouldn’t I? They stole it from me. Stole my throne. My crown. And yet… and yet…”

How else to explain it? Crowns and thrones meant so little to him. All he wanted was vengeance against the empire that hurt him. Such a confession made him sound ruthless and vile, even to his own ears. What kind of king cared so little for his people, and sought only personal revenge?

Mari reached out and put her hand on his. She hesitated to make sure he didn’t flinch, and then wrapped their fingers together and squeezed.

“You’re thinking of the city as a thing to own,” she said. “You’re thinking of it as a collection of buildings, towers, and piers. My father has a saying sometimes. ‘Twigs are not what make a nest.’ It’s the eggs laid within it that do. It’s the people within a city that make it worth protecting. The young and the old and the wise and the feeble and the destitute. Must you own them to care about them, Cyrus? Must you possess them to wish them a kind fate?”

“No,” Cyrus said. “I don’t believe so.”

Their fingers disentangled. Mari rotated until she could slide off and set foot in the belfry.