Read Online Self-Made Scoundrel by Tristan J. Tarwater - Free Book Online

dark, her grey eyes looked so pale.
    “Only the best for the heir to the seat,” he laughed, taking it from her. He took another sip and then sat back in his bed, leaning against the headboard as he wrapped his hands around the vessel. “To be honest, I had too much to drink. I’m doing my best to not be totally useless tomorrow.” He managed a pathetic grin and looked into the pitcher again.
    “Well, it’s already tomorrow,” she said. “First watch has already come.”
    “Has it, now?” Dershik shrugged. “Well, here I am. Useless.” He took another sip of water, wishing his head would clear up faster. At least his mouth didn’t taste like vomit anymore.
    “I wouldn’t say that,” Cira offered. She put her hand on his and moved closer to him. Dershik forced himself to move away from her, just a bit. “I mean, right now, yes. I don’t think you’d be any good to anyone now, drunk as you are.”
    “You’re right,” he agreed, laughing and finding it nice he still could. He gave her the pitcher and laid on his side, his head propped up in one hand. “But besides this. I can’t be a good husband to Jerila. I can’t be a good father to the baby. And I can’t be a good Baron.” He wanted to add he couldn’t be a good son, but it went without saying. It was tied with holding the Seat, his unwillingness to do it his Father’s way.
    “Dershik, what can you do?” Cira asked. There was exasperation in her voice and it surprised him. “You’re always talking about how you can’t do this or that. What can you do? What do you want to do?”
    “I want my brother to be happy,” Dershik started, anger beginning to simmer within. “I want Jerila to be happy. I want this child to know his father and for the people of the Barony to have peace, within and without. I want to be happy.”
    “Can all these things exist at the same time?”
    “I don’t know!” Dershik shouted. “I don’t know! It doesn’t matter what I want, nobody seems to care what I want. I don’t want people to be afraid of me, or to take money from them.”
    “But Dershik, people are afraid of you,” Cira said gently. “It’s well known you lurk about the keep and scare the servants and visitors alike. And you take their money. You gamble with them in the stable.”
    “That’s different,” he insisted, sitting up on the bed. “It’s not the same. Riding down a road on a horse and having people bow is different from making Big Hilik piss himself in the privy. Making a law so money comes in from eight towns over is different from beating someone at cards. It’s not the same!” Dershik felt his heart thump in his chest, panting with insistence. Is this why Cira had come, to make him angry? “I am tired of secrets,” he said at last, not able to keep his tone from being accusatory. “I am tired of hiding things away. Of hiding myself away, to make other people happy.” He took a deep breath and wished he hadn’t finished his wine. “I know you say my place in life is a gift from the Goddess, and I should be grateful for it. But haven’t you ever been given a gift you didn’t like? Or didn’t use and gave to someone else? What if blindly accepting the gift is the mistake?”
    He was ready for her to admonish him, to encourage him toward the Seat. It’s what she had always done in the end. Instead she put a hand on the side of his face. Her hand felt cool and soft and he wanted to kiss her. But she looked as if she was going to say something so he didn’t, his eyes set on her lips. “If you feel this is what the Goddess is telling you, Dershik,” she finally said. “…do what you can.”
    What was this? Dershik looked into her eyes. Was this permission? Permission for what? Something like relief spread over him, as well as fear. If he was free to do what he wanted, what would he do?
    “Cira,” he said. He leaned over and kissed her. She dropped her hand from his face but didn’t pull away from him. She