The seal was cracked.

I held it in my palm. The wax was cold. It had been cold for a long time. I was alone in the hall. The torches guttered. Shadows stretched like fingers.

"Is it broken?"

The voice came from behind me. Thomas. He stood in the archway. His face was pale. His eyes were wide.

"Yes," I said.

"It was my father’s seal."

Thomas stepped forward. He did not look at me. He looked at the wax.

"I know," I said. "I am sorry."

He reached for it. I did not move. He took it from my hand. His fingers trembled. He turned the seal over. The crack ran deep. It split the lion in two.

"He would be angry."

"He is dead," I said. "Dead men do not anger."

Thomas laughed. It was a dry sound. Like leaves scraping on stone.

"You are a soldier, not a ghost."

"I am the King’s Hand."

"The King’s Hand holds the seal."

"The King’s Hand breaks the seal."

Thomas looked at me then. His gaze was sharp. It cut through the air.

"Why?"

"Because it was ordered."

"Ordered by whom?"

"By the Council."

Thomas spat on the floor. The sound was wet.

"Liar."

The word hung in the air. It did not fade. It sat there. Heavy. Real.

"I have no choice, Thomas."

"You always have a choice."

He backed away. He walked out of the hall. His footsteps echoed. They faded into the dark.

I stood still. My heart beat fast. It hit my ribs. *Thump. Thump.* I waited for the pain. It did not come. Only a hollow feeling. An emptiness.

I went to my room. The door was heavy. Oak. Iron bands. I pushed it open. The air was stale. Dust motes danced in the moonlight.

I sat on the bed. The sheets were cold. I pulled them up. I wrapped them around my shoulders. I tried to remember my brother’s face. He was young. He had been smiling. I could not see the smile. I could only see the eyes. They were tired. They were sad.

I closed my own eyes.

The door opened again.

I did not move. I knew the sound. It was soft. Careful.

"Edward."

It was Thomas.

He did not light a candle. He stood in the doorway. The moonlight caught his shoulder.

"I cannot sleep," he said.

"Nor can I."

He stepped inside. He closed the door. The latch clicked. A small sound. Final.

He sat on the chair across from me. He did not look at me. He looked at the floor.

"Do you think he knew?" he asked.

"Knew what?"

"That the seal would break."

"I do not know."

"He trusted you."

"He trusted the office."

Thomas shook his head. "You are the same."

"I am different."

"No."

He leaned forward. His elbows were on his knees. His hands were clasped.

"You saved me," he said. "At the river. When the water rose."

I remembered. The cold. The mud. The screaming. I had pulled him out. I had dragged him to the bank. He had coughed water for an hour. I had kept him warm.

"I did my duty."

"You saved my life."

"I saved a soldier."

"You saved my brother."

The silence was thick. I could hear the wind outside. It whistled through the cracks.

"Thomas," I said. "It is not my fault."

"It is your fault."

He stood up. He walked to the window. He looked out. The courtyard was dark. The gate was closed.

"The Council wants the estate," he said. "They want the land. The grain. The people."

"I know."

"And you gave them the key."

"I gave them the truth."

"Lies."

"Thomas, please."

He turned around. His face was twisted. Not with anger. With grief. It was worse. It was so much worse.

"I loved him," he said. "He was my blood. My bone."

"I know."

"He loved you too."

I looked away. I looked at the floor.

"He is gone."

"No."

Thomas stepped closer. He stopped in front of me.

"You killed him."

"No."

"By breaking the seal, you broke his spirit."

"I broke the wax."

"You broke his trust."

I stood up. I was taller than him. I had always been taller. But he looked up. He did not flinch.

"I am leaving," I said.

"Where?"

"North."

"Into the snow?"

"Yes."

"You are running."

"I am going."

Thomas smiled. It was a sad smile. It did not reach his eyes.

"Go," he said.

I turned. I walked to the door. I opened it. The cold air hit my face. It was sharp. It bit.

"Edward."

I stopped. I did not turn.

"Will you ever forgive yourself?"

I listened. The wind moaned.

"No," I said.

I stepped out.

The hallway was long. The portraits watched me. My father’s eyes. Stern. My mother’s eyes. Soft. My brother’s eyes. Kind.

I walked quickly. My boots rang on the stone. I passed the kitchen. The servants were gone. The house was empty. It had always felt empty. I had just never noticed.

I reached the gate. The guards were there. Two men. They looked at me. They knew. They knew what I had done.

"Halt," one said.

"It is me," I said. "Open the gate."

"Orders from the Council."

"What orders?"

"No entry. No exit."

I looked at them. They were young. They were afraid.

"I am the King’s Hand."

"The King’s Hand is under arrest."

I stared at them. I did not move. The words sat in my mouth. They tasted like ash.

Under arrest.

For breaking a seal.

For telling the truth.

I looked at the gate. Beyond it, the road led to the hills. To the snow. To the end of it.

I reached for my sword. The steel was cold. I drew it. The sound was a hiss. A whisper.

The guards stepped back. They raised their spears.

I did not attack. I stood still. I held the sword at my side.

"Let me go," I said.

"No."

"I will not fight."

"Then you stay."

I looked at the house. The lights were out. Thomas was inside. He was waiting. He knew I would not come back.

I thought of the seal. The crack. The lion split in two.

I thought of my brother. The smile. The tired eyes.

I thought of the river. The mud. The life I had saved.

Was it a life? Or just a body?

I looked at the guards. They were young. They were afraid. They were doing their duty.

Like me.

Like Thomas.

Like the Council.

We are all just pieces. We move when the hand moves. We break when the hand breaks.

I lowered the sword. The click was loud.

"I will wait," I said.

The guards relaxed. Their shoulders dropped. They lowered their spears.

"Go to your quarters," the first guard said.

I turned. I walked back into the hall. The cold followed me. It clung to my skin.

I found Thomas in the library. He was sitting by the fire. He was holding a book. He was not reading.

He looked up. He saw my face. He saw the emptiness in my eyes.

"I tried," he said.

"I know."

"The guards stopped you."

"I know."

He closed the book. He set it on the table.

"They will come for you," he said. "In the morning."

"I know."

"Will you fight?"

I looked at the fire. The flames danced. They were red. They were orange. They were alive.

"No," I said.

"Why?"

"Because it does not matter."

Thomas stood up. He walked to me. He stopped an arm’s length away.

"Edward."

"I am done."

He reached out. He touched my shoulder. His hand was warm. It was the only warmth I felt.

"I forgive you," he said.

I looked at him. I saw my brother’s face in his. I saw the same bone structure. The same jaw. The same sadness.

"I cannot," I said.

"Then I will carry it for you."

He turned. He walked to the window. He opened it. The wind rushed in. It blew the curtains. It blew the ashes from the fire.

"I will go North," he said. "I will take the seal."

I turned. I stared at him.

"The seal?"

"The broken piece. I have it."

He reached into his pocket. He pulled out a fragment of wax. It was small. It was dark.

"I will carry it to the sea," he said. "I will throw it in."

"Thomas."

"Let him go, Edward."

I looked at the fragment. It was nothing. It was wax. It was dust.

But it was everything.

It was my brother’s name.

It was my brother’s blood.

It was my brother’s soul.

I closed my eyes. I breathed in. The air was cold. It was clean.

"Go," I said.

Thomas nodded. He stepped back. He looked at me one last time. His eyes were bright. They were wet.

"Goodbye," he said.

"Goodbye."

He opened the door. The wind howled. He stepped out. The door closed.

I was alone again.

The fire crackled. The ashes settled. The room was dark.

I sat down. I placed my hands on my knees. I felt the weight. It was heavy. It was solid.

I waited for the morning.

I waited for the Council.

I waited for the end.

But I did not wait in fear. I waited in peace.

The seal was broken.

The lion was split.

But the house stood.

The house always stands.

Even when the men inside are gone.

Even when the truth is buried.

Even when the heart is cold.

The house stands.

And I am part of it.

Stone.

Wood.

Silence.

I closed my eyes.

The dark came.

It was soft.

It was kind.

It was home.