Page 20 of King’s Kismet

“What if I mess up?” I asked, shaking my head. “They’ve waited so long to be free of their shift, too long for me to get it wrong.”

“When did you start doubting yourself again?” he gently replied.

“Just now.”

“Do you want sweet words or truth, Lo?”

I frowned at him. “Truth. Always the truth.”

“You can’t mess up if you don’t try. You also cannot succeed if you don’t try.”

“I’m not looking for glory.”

Pete chittered his teeth together, letting me know he was aggravated. “I didn’t say that. Nor have I ever thought you sought glory from selflessness. But maybe step back and look at this in a more selfish manner.”

“This has nothing to do with being selfish,” I argued.

“Will you let Alric have this victory?” he inquired. “Even after his death?”

“He gets no victory,” I growled.

The pedmar chirped, sounding smug. “He has victory now, feels the triumph of causing you fright, to second guess yourself.”

“That isn’t his—”

“It’s his so long as you stand here and don’t try,” he casually informed me.

I stared into Pete’s glossy black eye, but just the one, because the pedmar’s eyes were too far apart to glance between them. He stood at an angle, blocking most of my view of his people so we could have this mental moment alone.

“Are you manipulating me?”

“Is it working?” he asked, too cheerfully.

“A little,” I grumbled. “Yeah.”

“Then yes,” he retorted, happy with himself. “I will manipulate you this one time, but only because I believe in you.”

I stepped forward, leaning my head against his massive shoulder. “What if you believe too much?”

“And you too little. I am old enough to know where to put my faith,” he pointed out, resting his trunk on my back like he was comforting me. “You think yourself a bad person, therefore you assume you can’t do good on purpose. And when you do, you want no credit, leave no signature. You’re frightened because you know if you succeed, they’ll all know it was you. Likewise, if you fail.”

“Ouch, Pete.” I chuckled, then sighed. “A little less truth next time.”

His trunk curled around my waist, tightening as he lifted me from the ground, dangling me upside down. Those enormous black eyes were deeper than the bottomless pit in Alania’s palace. The abyss of knowledge felt like a physical touch, a smothering hug, as if he wanted to protect me from myself.

“I do not lie to you, young King,” he told me, the honesty in his statement hitting me square in the feels. “And you do not lie to me.”

I tried to tip my head in agreement. “You’re probably the only person I haven’t lied to.”

“Probably?” he teased.

“I can’t think of a time, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t.” I grinned at him. “I never had a reason to lie to you, though. For that, I am grateful.”

He made the chattering sound again, his ears flopping in his frustration. “Then why do you do it now?”

“I haven’t lied to you just now,” I defended.

“You’re nervous?” he questioned, mocking me. “That is a lie.”