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PRINCE Raoden of Arelon awoke early that morning, completely unaware that he had been damned for all eternity.
Hrathen congratulated himself on creating such a useful tool, completely satisfied until the moment Dilaf looked up from his bow. The passion was still there in Dilaf’s eyes—but there was something else as well. Ambition. Hrathen frowned, wondering whether or not he had just been manipulated.
He would be Hrathen’s slave, if that slavery would carry him higher. It was a very Fjordell thing to do—ambition was the one emotion Jaddeth would accept as readily as devotion.
One did not own such a thing for its usefulness, or for its ability to impress others, but because it was a privilege to possess.
The people might not yet know it, but Hrathen was the only thing standing between them and utter annihilation. They had resisted Jaddeth and His people in arrogant defiance for far too long. Hrathen was their last chance. Someday they would call him their savior.
If such a woman could be defeated by Elantris, what hope was there for Raoden?
Sarene’s prayers were not answered, however—he didn’t step on it and trip himself.
“The first step in taking control of a nation, Arteth, is the simplest. You find someone to hate.”
You will find that hate can unify people more quickly and more fervently than devotion ever could.”
Kaise snorted. “You know, considering how tall she is, you’d think she’d get used to heights.”
They had nearly reached their chapel, but the enormous wall surrounding Elantris was still visible behind them. Atop it was the infuriating young woman who had somehow gotten the best of him this day. “She was magnificent,” Hrathen said in spite of himself.
Some gyorns preferred to use a standing posture as a form of intimidation, but Hrathen found it more useful to sit. More often than not, sitting made his listeners—especially those who were standing—uncomfortable. One appeared more in control when one could captivate an audience without towering over them.
Besides, it was beneficial to have a reputation for honesty, if only so that one could lie at crucial moments.
“Books, sule, are a wonderful thing.
“Answer me a question. Is ‘girl’ the proper title for one who, had things turned out a bit differently, might have been our queen?”
“Do not dash if you only have the strength to walk, and do not waste your time pushing on walls that will not give. More importantly, don’t shove where a pat would be sufficient.
Hrathen had no hatreds so severe that he wept, no loves so profound that he would risk everything in their name. He had always believed that he was the perfect follower of Jaddeth; that his Lord needed levelheadedness more than He needed unbridled ardor. Now, however, he wondered.
Keseg taught of unity. But what did he mean? Unity of mind, as my people assume? Unity of love, as your priests claim? Or is it the unity of obedience, as the Derethi believe? In the end, I am left to ponder how mankind managed to complicate such a simple concept.”
“Truth can never be defeated, Sarene. Even if people do forget about it occasionally.”
Hate and loathing cannot remain ‘formless’ for long—they will find an outlet.”
“I am aware of my responsibility, Arteth, though I question your understanding of it. You just told me that killing this Elantrian was fated by Jaddeth—that you were simply following Jaddeth’s fate by forcing my hand. Which is it to be? Would the deaths I cause in riot be my doing, or simply the will of God? How can you be an innocent servant while I must accept full accountability for this city’s people?”
Sarene had managed to remain seated during the first part of the meeting, but had eventually stood. She found it easier to address others when she was on her feet—something of a nervous habit, she realized, but she also knew that her height lent her an air of authority.
That capability, mixed with his deserved reputation for honesty, earned him respect beyond his years. It was a powerful man indeed who could mix integrity with savvy.
Men often place pride before reason.”
An exchange was different from a gift—it could be weighed, measured, and to an extent trusted.
A princess deserves proper esteem—if you allow them to neglect their work, it won’t be long before they stop respecting you.”
“We can be strong in the face of kings and priests, my lady,” Ashe replied, “but to live is to have worries and uncertainties. Keep them inside, and they will destroy you for certain—leaving behind a person so callused that emotion can find no root in your heart.”
“You’re far too harsh on yourself. I’ve heard the way you speak—you assume that nobody wants you.” “They don’t,” Sarene said flatly. “Trust me.” Roial shook his head. “You’re an excellent judge of character, Sarene—except your own. Often our own opinions of ourselves are the most unrealistic. You may see yourself as an old maid, child, but you are young, and you are beautiful. Just because you’ve had misfortune in your past doesn’t mean you have to give up on your future.” He looked into her eyes. For all his mischievous shows, this was a man of sage understanding. “You will find someone to
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