Glass of Revenge

~21~

Athril wasn't sure why he was still hiding from everyone, especially when there was currently an emergency war council that he could have been a part of. Should have been a part of. He knew that people would be beginning to ask where he was by now, but at the same time he couldn't care less.

He still didn't know how to forgive himself, how to face his queen, knowing what the consequences of his actions were. If he hadn't insisted on bringing Sam Cortland to Rifthold with him and the Thirteen, hadn't made sure that he had been placed in the dungeon cells after it had been made clear that he was a traitor, then Terrasen wouldn't be facing war so soon after the last one. Especially while they were still rebuilding what had been destroyed.

Athril had heard what Chaol Westfall had told him about not blaming oneself for the mistakes you made and moving on, but Athril couldn't bring himself to forgive himself. He still very much blamed himself for his mistakes. He should have seen better, known better.

Athril didn't see it himself, but he was not the only one to blame for bringing Sam to Orynth. But he was the only one who was blaming himself. The only one who hated himself for it and was refusing to leave his palace suite of rooms.

Despite, or perhaps because of his desperate sulking streak, Athril was the only one who was not willing to see that life stood outside the palace, in the city. Unable or unwilling to see that the citizens of Terrasen adored their queen and were more than willing to fight for her. They were willing to fight for her, even if he was not.

"Still sulking about, I see," a voice said as someone entered the suite. "Talk about pathetic. I thought you were more of a man than this. I thought you were stronger than this."

Athril looked up from where he was lying on the bed, groaned, and then looked away again. It was though the sight of the white-haired witch queen gave him physical pain to add to the mental pain he was enduring.

And in a way, that was true. Seeing Manon just brought back the memories he was trying to suppress. Of the shame he was struggling to forget.

"For such a illustrious warrior spy of legend, sulking this is worse than contemptible. In fact, it's downright laughable," Manon mused aloud. "What must the celebrated Brannon Galathynius think of you now? What must he think of the way you failed his last living descendant, his kingdom?"

Athril just grunted again and attempted to shield his eyes from the light leaking in from the open doorway. After spending so long in the pitch black had wrecked his eyesight. Manon had also struck upon the one thing that kept him from killing himself right now. He was far too ashamed to be able to face Aelin in this life, and was far, far too ashamed to face Brannon in the Afterlife.

"Ashamed, are we?" Manon purred silkily. "Too ashamed to face your queen? Too ashamed to even attempt to atone for a sin that my entire coven also made? A sin we committed in order for you to be able to bring the Cortland boy North, a journey that went much quicker due to the fact that you were flying on wyverns?"

At that, Athril stopped his groaning and grunting. He had been so completely self-absorbed that he had entirely forgotten that Manon Blackbeak and the Thirteen had been the ones to transport Sam Cortland and himself northward. If it weren't for them, the journey north would have taken far longer that it had.

And in that moment, Athril had to wonder that if it had been just him and Cortland traveling by themselves, would Cortland had made it clear that he was a traitor before they reached Orynth? If that had happened, Athril would have had the time to take the proper precautions before they made it so far.

"I made the same mistake you did, Athril," Manon said a bit more gently. "I, like you, trusted Sam Cortland. I took him at face value, and did not even attempt to look beneath the surface. Yet, I am not beating myself up over it. None of the Thirteen are. So why are you? Why can you not forgive yourself?"