The flush that burned his cheeks cut straight through the booze-fug. ‘I …’

‘Guess what, cub, I doubt she had much choice. Your father is gone, before he had a chance to disappoint you beyond up and dying. Your mother remained, human and fallible, facing the world alone. You think that’s easy? You think she remarried to spite you, you infant? Shepherd save us from the solipsism of youth.’

‘The what?’

‘Thinking you’re at the centre of everything, cub, that every decision another makes has you at its heart. Your father is dead, Vedren, and his approval will never be forthcoming, no matter how nobly you hurl yourself into peril. There are plenty of people alive who care about you. So why this obsession? What is so absent in your existence that you drive yourself this way? What is it that you want?’

‘I … I don’t know. I want …’ He could feel tears prickling in his eyes, running hot on his burning cheeks. ‘I want this feeling to end.’

Her voice dropped, intent now, gentle. ‘What feeling, cub?’

‘Like … Like I’m weighed down. By what people expect of me. Like I have no control over my life, I just have to do what’s … expected. Demanded.’

She leaned back with a triumphant grin. ‘Now you’re getting it. We’re closer than you might think.’ She walked over, the robe trailing on the floor like a train, and refilled his cup. ‘That feeling, my young friend, exists in your mind. You escape it by choosing to.’

She ruffled his hair, infuriatingly maternal. How fitting, a small, detached part of his brain observed. ‘I wasn’t kidding before. You could choose to leave. You could walk back down those steps now and tell Prince Gargleballs we’re fleeing, and he’ll go with it. You might be his sworn man but he’s your puppy. The others would come too. You could save everyone.’

Chel’s voice was cracked and hoarse. ‘But not the rest of the kingdom.’

‘You can’t save a kingdom by yourself. You need to care for those around you first.’

‘But you’re leaving us.’

‘Because I need to look out for myself most of all.’

He half-expected her to put a hand on her stomach, but she went back to fussing over her packing. His thoughts boiled, and the silence grew.

‘I … I can’t do it,’ he said at last, eyes on the beautiful silk rug at the bed’s foot. ‘I can’t walk away. Not with all this danger—’

‘I know,’ she said, not looking up. ‘But maybe one day you will.’ She tightened a bag-strap and stepped back. ‘Time for bed, cub. There are no more answers to be had tonight.’

He stood, the rush leaving him wobbling on his feet.

‘Just promise you won’t go before … Say goodbye in the morning, tell the others.’

‘Of course.’