Gaborn wondered deep in his heart what he needed to do, and in answer he felt a terrifying sense of distress, a sense that the whole world was rocking, shifting under his feet, and he had nothing to cling to. Certainly he’d loved his father and Sylvarresta, had struggled to keep both kings alive.

“It is my fault that Raj Ahten still lives,” Gaborn mused. “I spun too thin a web to catch such a large fly.” Gaborn smiled at the image.

Yet there was something more he needed to do, something he could not quite grasp or voice. Gaborn was so new in his powers. He didn’t know his own measure, his own responsibilities.

Binnesman said something then, words that would haunt Gaborn forever. And as Binnesman spoke the secret, Gaborn felt his mind begin to unhinge: “Milord, have you not understood? Choosing a man for the Earth is not enough. The powers of Earth are weakening, while Fire grows strong. Each person you seek to save, Fire will only seek more fully to destroy. And it will seek to destroy you above all.”

Gaborn gasped and his heart froze at the recognition, for surely he’d felt this all along—this secret nagging suspicion. The new powers he’d felt stirring within him bore a tremendous price. By choosing to love someone, by seeking to save a person, he marked the person, made him a target.

“How then? How can I do anything?” Gaborn asked. “What does it benefit a man to be chosen?”

“In time, we will learn to use your powers,” Binnesman said. “You think that benefit is slight, and perhaps that is so. But is the benefit slight to a man, if it means the difference between life and death?”

As Gaborn considered, he recognized that he’d done some things right. He’d saved Iome when Raj Ahten hunted them. He’d managed to save Borenson at Longmot. He’d drawn Myrrima here for reasons he did not yet understand, and he suddenly felt sure to the marrow of his bones that if he’d not sent Borenson back to warn Myrrima of the invaders in the woods, the whole family would have been slaughtered.

Without the aid of Gaborn’s fledgling powers, many more would be dead now.

Yes, I’ve done something. But I must do far, far more.

“What will you now, milord?” Binnesman asked, almost as if divining his thoughts.

“What would you advise?” Gaborn said.

“You are the king; I am merely a servant, and no counselor,” Binnesman said. “The earth will serve you in ways it would never serve me. I have no idea what you should do.”