Page 22 of The King’s Man (The Kingdom of the Krow #3)

~ DIADRE ~

I was starving, and so grateful that Jann had thought to have the meals brought to his tent.

My fear had eased sitting at that Council table, knowing both Jann and Melek were there and would protect us. But the moment I’d stepped out of that tent, my heartrate rose.

Now, after meeting those other Neph on the trail, I was trembling again. But at least I could think clearly.

The servants put the meals on the small table near the door, and we both sat down, Jann tucking into his meal with the kind of gusto that only a large, physically fit man can.

I was slower to eat, but enjoyed the hot meat, potatoes, and gravy.

At first, Jann seemed entirely focused on the food, but about halfway through the meal, his eyes lifted from his plate to meet mine. He took another bite, then cleared his throat.

“There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

I braced and took another mouthful of the gravy and meat to cover the immediate desire to swear. “What is it?”

“I thought… I thought it might help you to hear about the first time I ever realized I was mortal.”

I snorted weakly. “Trust me, Jann, I’m under no deceit. I know you bleed when you’re cut and—”

“No, no. Listen,” he said quietly, then leaned his elbows on the table and stopped eating, his fork tracing the air as he spoke.

“I was about twenty-eight, I think? Still not thirty in any case. Some friends and I decided to take an ill-advised trip to Kyrion Vale.”

“For what purpose?” I asked. Kyrion Vale was the nation of Centaurs whose borders hugged the southern reaches of the Raven Peaks, the deadly mountain range that separated the Nephilim’s Ebonreach from the rest of the continent.

Legend said the mountain range would kill anyone or any creature attempting to traverse it on foot.

Not because it was magical like our Shadows of Shade, but because the peaks were so high and so cold, no mortal could withstand the elements for the time it would take to pass through.

The Nephilim could fly over the peaks, and so only be subject to that intense environment for hours instead of days. At least, that’s what the rumors said. I’d never travelled far enough to know if it was true.

“I was trying to prove myself,” Jann said thoughtfully. “Our people value physical strength in our warriors over everything else. I told you that my friend was promoted ahead of me?”

I nodded.

Jann grimaced. “He’d taken a mission across the Peaks and proven himself when their camp was ambushed and their leader killed.

My friend kept his head, pulled the others together and led the survivors safely out.

I, too, wanted to be promoted. But in my jealousy, I couldn’t see straight.

I told myself that if I took the initiative, convinced my friends to follow me, and we located and killed a Centaur and returned with a trophy, my superiors would be impressed.

I was a fool. These days, any Sargeant who pulled that kind of idiocy I’d castrate,” he said, then took another bite, chewing it like it had angered him, before he spoke again.

“But the reason that’s true,” he said quietly, “was that I learned my lesson the hard way. I almost died that day, and nearly got one of my friends killed as well. My two other friends had to carry our injured friend over the peaks to get us home. I barely made it—so in truth, I almost died twice. All because of my own pride.”

“Shocking,” I said sarcastically. It wasn’t hard to imagine the cocksure young Jann almost getting himself killed—more than once.

His eyes went flat. “Judge me if you will—I’m guessing you have some stories of your own, a young woman and soldier, fighting to prove herself?

” He arched one brow, but as I bristled, he continued so I wasn’t forced to admit he was right.

“Here’s the thing, though, Diadre… I learned one important lesson that day.

But as the days wore on I learned another that was even more critical. ”

I cocked my head. I understood the lesson he learned. I’d learned it too—that we could be killed, and that some risks weren’t worth taking. But what else?

Jann took another bite, his eyes never leaving mine.

“That was the beginning of my understanding that I was limited. That even with all my strength and confidence, I could be defeated. It is, I believe, a lesson every leader must learn before they reach heights, else they will lead their followers straight over a cliff.”

I nodded. We were agreed on that point.

“But secondly… the events of that day, which ended the career of my friend who almost died and lost three fingers so he could no longer wield a weapon, taught me something far more important.”

“What was that?”

He dropped his chin and took another mouthful, his eyes almost wary as he watched me. I frowned. Did he think I would get angry? Why did he stare at me like that?

“I can tell you that the most terrifying moment of my life wasn’t the minutes when I looked death in the face—twice.

It was afterwards… the hours and days after we’d safely returned and were healing.

I had… fallen. In my own eyes, at least. And certainly in the eyes of my superiors.

I had almost died. Almost gotten someone else killed needlessly—and all for the impatience of foolish ambition.

I was on the path to lead. I would have achieved promotion with time, regardless.

I was stupid that day. And afterwards… Not only did my superiors lose a level of trust in me, I found I no longer trusted myself.

“I began to doubt everything—my strength, my judgment, my ability to assess risk. All of it. I went from convinced I should have been promoted to Lieutenant, to convinced I shouldn’t even be a fighter.”

I gaped. Jann? The massive walking weapon? I’d seen him fight in battle. Watched him laugh in the face of one enemy, and slay countless others.

“That’s ridiculous,” I said.

He shook his head. “No, it was natural. I’d taken a deep blow.

My mortality and my weakness were demonstrated to me in meaningful ways.

It was right to ask myself the questions.

But luckily I had leaders around me with experience and insight.

They saw me waver, and they addressed it with me immediately.

“They wouldn’t accept my excuses to avoid training. They didn’t allow me to step down from my responsibilities. They forced me to stand in the face of my own self-doubt and prove to them and to me that that’s all it was: Doubt.”

I think I was more surprised that the Nephilim had healthy leadership than I was that Jann had come out of his doubt. I frowned. “That’s… good?” But why was he telling me this? What did he think I—

I went very still as it hit me.

Self-doubt in leadership. Risk aversion. Lack of confidence.

He thought… he thought my situation compared?

I wanted to swell. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to strip his flesh from his bones and dance on them. I threw down my fork and stood up, bracing on that table.

“Jannus the fucking Half-wit, are you saying that I am to blame for the fact that some bastard Nephilim almost raped me? That I was foolish to put myself at risk and—”

“No, no! God, no. Diadre… see, here I am, fucking it all up again,” he growled, clawing a hand through his hair and shaking his head. He’d stopped eating too. I didn’t sit down. My heart banged in my chest and I was livid.

“Why are you telling me this story, then?” I said through my teeth.

“Because when I was faced with my own lack, it shook me,” he said firmly, eyes locked on mine. “But it also strengthened me.”

I narrowed my gaze. “Strengthened you? How the fuck—”

“Learning that I was flawed—truly, deeply flawed—taught me what things were worth fighting for,” he said quietly.

I frowned harder. “How?”

Jann blew out a breath and sat back in his chair. “I’m a soldier. A fighter. A warrior. It is what I have always been, and always wanted to be. Until that day, I fought for glory, I fought for power, and I fought to show myself better.”

“Okay.” I shrugged uneasily. Didn’t every soldier do that?

“But after that day, I was scared. I doubted my abilities because I’d proven to myself that none of my strength or stamina were worth a flying fuck unless they were applied with wisdom and cunning.

“Now, when I face an enemy, or an obstacle, I know I could lose. I know I have to choose what is important enough to actually die for. And there are fewer things worth dying for than I thought.”

I stared at him, still scrambling to understand how this applied to me.

“Make no mistake,” he said quietly. “I no longer rush into battle convinced I cannot die—which I did when I was young.”

“Well then, you were a fool,” I said, then hated myself a little bit when his eyes narrowed

“But now, my dear,” he said tightly, “I am stronger. Because if I have walked into battle, then I have measured it worth dying for. I will run towards it, not because I think I cannot die, but because I’m determined to exhaust all options before losing. And so far… I’ve continued to win.”

I sat back down in my chair, chewing on that. But it was all a tangle in my belly. “How can you compare our situations?” I said finally. “I didn’t go looking for—”

“You’ve lost your nerve.”

Everything in me braced, but I made myself nod.

“Perhaps. Perhaps I am… doubting, as you said,” I admitted, though it grated to do so.

“But my doubt is based in evidence. You proved to me when we were travelling that you could overpower me, and I should have listened more carefully to that warning. I… underestimated the ruthless nature of your brothers,” I said through clenched teeth because it felt like they’d chatter if I opened my jaw.

He nodded slowly. “You learned the lesson. And yet, you’re out of danger now, but you’ve remained afraid,” he said.

I bristled again. “Perhaps if you were at risk of being raped the moment you stepped out of this tent, you’d empathize more fully—”