Lord of Secrets

by Breanna Teintze

  If he kept being gentle with me, I wasn’t going to be able to get through the rest of this conversation. ‘I’ve had enough of that nickname to last me the rest of my unnaturally lengthened life,’ I said. ‘Stop it.’

  He snorted. ‘Here I was hoping we’d make it at least an entire week before we had an argument where you behave like you’re fifteen.’

  ‘Then quit treating me like I’m ten,’ I retorted. ‘Look, why did you come for me? I mean, Jaern was right. Out of all your descendants – how do you have descendants, in passing?’

  His lips twitched mischievously. ‘I have descendants because I had a wife, and I loved her very much and—’

  ‘Gods, stop,’ I said. ‘I don’t care how many hundreds of years ago it was.’

  His good humour faded. ‘You don’t quite understand. There’s no reason why you should, I suppose. I did love my wife. She died having our second child. I was busy raising them. I didn’t meet Jaern until they were both established with families of their own. I wasn’t planning on falling in love again, but there it was.’ He shifted his weight. ‘And there’s no need to act shocked because I happened to fall in love with a man.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ I said. ‘Have as many husbands or paramours or whatever as you please. But Jaern?’

  Acarius swallowed. ‘He wasn’t always the Lord of Secrets, you know. When I met him, he was—’ He stopped.

  I waited, listening to the wind in the grass and the beat of my stolen heart. If there was one thing the last few months had taught me to recognise, it was the sound of grief.

  ‘I couldn’t kill him,’ he said, eventually. ‘I knew he had to be stopped, but I couldn’t – I was too weak. Instead I spilled blood to lock him into torpor, shut him into the coffin. And it worked, until last year. That’s when I heard that someone was hunting necromancers, asking about old Jaernic texts referring to the Ri Dana temple, trying to put together the spells to create marulaches and move souls. It was all at risk, and you and I were already at odds and—’ He rubbed at the back of his neck. ‘I asked Lorican to help me get the obsidian stones from the mosaic. I thought it would be enough, making it so nobody would be able to complete the Empty One. I know I should have got the doll myself, I . . .’ He paused. ‘Lorican was hurt, and I couldn’t bring myself to go back down into the room where Jaern was. Not even for the doll, not even for the privilege of dying. It took so much suffering to trap him in the first place, and I wasn’t sure what would wake him.’

  ‘He woke up when you took the obsidian,’ I said. ‘Felt you, I guess.’

  ‘You have to believe me, lad.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘I swear the spells were still strong when I saw them. He was still asleep. I never would have sent you down there if I had known he was awake. You don’t know what it took, once I realised how dangerous he’d become. You don’t know what I sacrificed.’

  ‘Dammit, I don’t know because you never told me.’ I kept my eyes on my shoes, biting down on the frustration welling inside me. ‘I mean, I can see how it would be difficult. Tell your grandson you’re involved with a necromancer and, what, eight or nine hundred years old? Difficult to bring up without explaining the decades of lying and hypocrisy.’

  ‘You still consider yourself my grandson?’

  It brought me up short. To have children – and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren – would have meant to watch them age and die. And not just once, but hundreds of times. And yet he had found me, raised me.

  ‘We always do this,’ I muttered. ‘It’s like a law. Of course I’m your grandson, Acarius, otherwise you couldn’t make me this angry. Can we just . . . stop?’

  ‘Aye.’ He smiled. ‘I will if you will. In our defence, we neither of us are very good at not arguing.’

  ‘We make up for it with our luck and charisma.’ I dragged my wrist across my lower lip and chin, where sweat had collected.

  ‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘That I didn’t tell you.’

  ‘I know,’ I said.

  ‘And, in answer to the question you can’t quite get out, no, never with the body you’re in. And never with the body I’m in. Jaern put me in an old man’s body as a punishment for daring to consider aging and dying, after I had ended it with him. He made his masterpiece, that body’ – Acarius nodded towards me – ‘ten years after that. So no need to feel . . . awkward, shall we say.’

  I shuddered. ‘Well, thank the gods, otherwise this scenario would get even more horrific.’

  ‘Horrific.’ Acarius spoke almost inaudibly, sudden, sharp pain in his voice. ‘Was I supposed to let you die?’

  My eyes blurred with hot tears. I couldn’t look at him. ‘I’m sorry, Grandfather. For all of it. I tried to do what you wanted. I promise I tried. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry . . .’

  ‘None of that.’ His voice went gruff. ‘Ancient history, and besides, considering I wasn’t there to help you . . . you’ve done well, boy. You’ve done everything, more than anyone could have asked.’

  ‘Not everything.’ I took a deep breath. ‘We have the doll. Do you want me to—’ The words were slippery. I had to concentrate on them, as though they were a spell. ‘Your soul. I’ll help you put it back. If you want me to.’

  ‘Gods and little saints,’ he said, quietly. ‘You realise what you’re offering?’

  ‘Yes, and I don’t like offering it,’ I said. ‘The privilege of dying, I think you called it. But it’s . . . I don’t want you to suffer, Acarius.’

  ‘Corcoran, I—’ He swallowed. ‘When the time comes, there is no one I want beside me more.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Now, are you going to tell me what else is bothering you?’

  But I couldn’t, not for several minutes. Finally, he put his hand on my head, like he had when I was a little boy, and ruffled my hair.

  ‘I came for you because you needed me,’ he said. ‘I kept you with me because I needed you. I had been alone for too long, avoiding connecting with anyone. It had been too painful, losing them over and over. But then there you were, talented, courage to the backbone, stubborn.’ He spoke carefully. ‘You love her. That much is obvious, Cricket.’

  ‘I don’t know—’ My words dried up.

  Acarius’ hand dropped to my shoulder and squeezed. He didn’t tell me it would work out, that of course Brix would stay with me, that if she minded the new body it meant that I was better off alone. Instead, he told me the truth.

  ‘Nobody ever knows,’ he said, softly. ‘Come on. We should be going.’

  Twenty-Eight

  A week after I died, the remnants of Makesh’s slave caravan arrived at Cor Daddan.

  It was a very different group of people than the one that Jaern had decimated. The Tirnaal slaves had taken control of the supplies, horses and wagons, and had arrived at the walls of the fort ready to do battle to free their imprisoned people. When they understood that they were already freed and we weren’t enemies, the problem shifted abruptly from ‘where should all the Tirnaal go’ to ‘how will we convince them to leave us a few horses’.

  Apparently the slavers made a habit of capturing entire families when they could, and people searched the crowd we’d liberated for mothers, cousins, children. I spent a surreal half-day witnessing all the reunions. I wanted to talk to Brix about it. I caught her brilliant smile across the courtyard, and knew she wanted the same thing.

  So, I hid.

  Now that the Tirnaal were more or less sorted, there was no reason to remain at Cor Daddan. Brix would leave with her people.

  Or maybe she’ll come with you . . . or let you go with her.

  It was a terrifying thought. I found myself inventing reasons to help Lorican with the horses that day, or ranging far afield looking for wood for the cooking fires. Anything to be in a place where Brix couldn’t talk to me alone.

  I knew the reprieve wasn’t going to last. She would catch me, make me have the conversation with her, make me listen to her explain whatever decision she was going to make. I managed to avoid her unt
il evening, and even then I kept busy enough trying to coordinate the supper meal that she couldn’t do more than stand beside me and look irritated. My cowardice and intelligence took me all the way to night, and the problem of housing everyone.

  Cleanliness was the issue. Half the courtyard was a charnel, full of smoke and the sickening stench of the funeral pyre. For other reasons, we all avoided the temple – Keir was imprisoned there, for one thing. For another, there was still ash on the walls.

  But Cor Daddan had housed a significant number of people during its heyday. We ended up putting most of the Tirnaal refugees in the old infirmary, which was at least big and bare even if the cots had rotted long ago. The rest slept in the wagons outside the walls. Brix, Anka, Lorican, my grandfather and I retained our residence in the fort’s smoky, low-ceilinged kitchen.

  After everyone else had fallen asleep, I lay on the flagstone floor and hoped I’d be tired enough to pass out. I wasn’t.

  I listened to Brix breathe. I watched the fire flicker. For a long time I rehearsed speeches in my head.

  I’m going home to the cabin. I want you to come with me.

  No matter how many versions I imagined, the most probable answer was always the same.

  I can’t. Not now that you’re like this.

  I let out my breath in a long hiss.

  ‘It’s me, isn’t it?’ Anka said.

  I got up on one elbow and turned towards her. I couldn’t find her for a moment in the dim light. She normally slept not far from her sister, but she wasn’t beside Brix’s shadowy form anymore.

  In fact, she was sitting cross-legged, a foot from me, presumably scowling. The kid had a permanent scowl on her face, and hadn’t stopped staring me down since we’d met. I had never known anyone before who was such an unlikely combination of intimidating and annoying.

  ‘What’s you?’ I said, because there didn’t seem to be anything else to say.

  ‘The reason you’re avoiding my sister.’ She shifted the position of her feet. ‘It’s me, isn’t it? You don’t want to be with her if she’s saddled with me.’

  Reluctantly, I sat up. ‘To be honest, it hadn’t occurred to me that you were a factor.’

  Her voice sounded faintly shocked. ‘That’s rude.’

  ‘I am rude,’ I said. ‘It’s part of my charm.’

  ‘You’re an arse,’ she said.

  ‘You puked on me when I was just trying to help,’ I retorted. ‘We’re even.’

  But, for some reason, she seemed less upset with me than she had been. Perhaps she was stymied. Her gaze bored a hole in the side of my head.

  ‘She’s done everything for me,’ she said. ‘I can barely remember our parents. Brix’s like my mother, father, everything. We’re all each other have got. I have to look after her, you know?’

  For not being able to actually sleep, I still felt too groggy to do justice to a late-night heart-to-heart with a tattooed kid. My grandfather would have come up with something wise or kind to say. I, on the other hand, blurted: ‘Listen, is this the conversation where you tell me that you’ll kill me if I break her heart?’

  I could almost hear Anka turning red. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ I said. ‘I’d kill me, too.’

  Silence. I began to hope I was making a good impression.

  ‘So what have you been doing, then?’ Anka said, after a while. ‘Other than getting too damn much firewood and never sitting down, like a ninny?’

  ‘Don’t swear,’ I said, automatically.

  She sniffed.

  ‘You’re fifteen,’ I said. ‘I’m allowed to tell you not to swear for at least another five years.’ I hesitated. ‘I love Brix. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. But I would rather be alone than hurt her, and I’d rather be alone than force her. I don’t know how to ask her without making her feel obligated to say yes. And I’ve changed bodies since we met, and she could be forgiven for not liking this one. Does that explain it?’

  ‘Oh.’ Anka’s voice altered. ‘You’re scared.’

  ‘Shitless,’ I agreed.

  ‘Are you actually asking my baby sister whether you’re allowed to marry me?’ Brix said, from the dark.

  My mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  ‘ “I’d kill me, too”?’ Acarius said.

  I put my burning face in both hands. ‘Dammit, somebody wake Lorican, we might as well make sure everybody can hear me failing.’

  ‘Don’t swear,’ Anka said, primly.

  Muffled snickering drifted from the direction of Lorican’s bedroll.

  Soft footsteps, and then Brix’s fingers grasped my wrists and pulled them down. ‘Gray. Hey, it’s all right.’

  ‘It is not,’ I said.

  ‘Go back to bed, Anka.’ Brix pulled me to my feet. ‘And everyone,’ she added, sharply. ‘Come on, Corcoran.’

  I felt for her hand and held it. In the dark it was easier to forget about what I looked like, and touching her again settled some of the shadows rattling around in my head. Still, I couldn’t imagine how I could have bungled the moment any more thoroughly. ‘What a mess.’

  She didn’t answer, leading me out into the hallway. The fort was confusing enough even in the daytime; I have no idea how she had managed to memorise it well enough to know where she was going. After several moments of manoeuvring through passageways, she pushed open a door, led me inside and closed it behind us.

  We stood in a room without a ceiling, open to the stars and the white wash of moonlight. It had evidently been used as storage at some point long past. Ancient, half-open bundles of what looked like wool sprawled against one wall.

  ‘How did you know this was here?’ I let her lead me to the bundles. She was more beautiful tonight than ever.

  ‘We’ve been pulling wool to make bandages for the last two days. Which you would have noticed if you’d had any rest in the last week.’ She plopped herself down on the wool. ‘Sit. Why haven’t you been sleeping?’

  ‘If I veered so drastically in conversation you’d say I was avoidant,’ I said, but I obeyed. I had to. She hadn’t let go of me.

  She brought my hand upwards and dropped a kiss on my palm. A sharp, sweet mixture of desire and relief burned through my veins. She pushed me gently down on to my side, and then stretched out next to me, her back to my chest. She pulled my arm around her and cuddled down as though I was a blanket. ‘So?’

  ‘So I haven’t been sleeping because everything in my life is ruined,’ I said.

  ‘Could you sleep like this?’ She snugged her hips up against mine.

  My heart quickened. ‘Not sleep, no. This is . . .’ I blinked. ‘You – you don’t want to be close to me. Not like I am now.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what I want.’ She rolled to face me. ‘What if something happens to me? Like I’m in an accident?’

  ‘Uh—’ I scrabbled to think about anything beyond the softness pressed up to me. The boundaries of my skin seemed blurred, blending into her warmth. ‘What?’

  ‘An accident. Say my hand was cut off.’ She put her hand against my belly. My entire body came to singing, vivid life. Uncomfortable life, considering. I couldn’t smother a soft moan, but she didn’t move away. ‘Would you still love me if I only had one hand?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘What if I got . . . a plague or something? Got pockmarks?’

  I shook my head. ‘This isn’t—’

  ‘Developed a twisted back?’ she interrupted. ‘Some women do, when they get old. I might get a hump.’ Her hand was still on me, and gods, now it slipped under my shirt, tracing the edge of my ribs, and then back down to the arch of my back. Shivers of bliss followed her touch.

  ‘Yes, fine, I can’t think of a scenario where what you look like would change how I feel about you. But it’s . . .’ I swallowed, overwhelmed by the sweetness of the caress. ‘It’s not the same thing. Asking you to overlook the fact that I look like Jaern. It’s not the same.’

  ‘Why not?’ She t
ilted her face up towards mine, her lips brushing my chin. ‘We have to deal with this, Gray. It’s not fair to shut me away like this. I miss the way you used to be, but you don’t get to decide for me how I feel about this body. I’ve been watching you. You don’t even move the way Jaern did. It’s you in there, and I’m lonely for you.’

  I wasn’t going to hide from her anymore. I drew a breath. ‘Do you love me?’

  She went still. ‘I thought you knew.’

  ‘I can’t lose you again,’ I said. ‘I can’t wonder whether you’re just sorry for me or guilty. Maybe I shouldn’t need you to say it, but I do. I need you to tell me the truth, whatever it is. I need to know whether what we had was true for you.’

  ‘You mean, was I trying to take you to bed at the cabin only because I had to?’ Her voice was steady, but it still made me wince. ‘Am I here with you now only because I have to be?’

  ‘It’s just—’

  ‘I know.’ She paused. ‘I’m not a slave anymore. Not here, and not with you. I’m not doing anything with you because I have to.’

  I kissed her forehead. I think I was trying to be reassuring. I’m not sure it worked, since I kept kissing her, working my way down to her ear, and then her throat. I couldn’t help it.

  She kept speaking, still so quietly I could barely hear her. ‘I knew I was going to break your heart, and I couldn’t see a way out. I tried not to fall in love with you. You might be romantic. I’m not. You’re worried that I’m awarding myself to you like a medal for saving lives?’

  ‘I think my word was “obligated”,’ I muttered.

  ‘I want to be with you because you make me happy.’ As she spoke, her breath tickled my skin. ‘I’ve known since the alley behind Lorican’s pub. You saved my life, and you didn’t have to. You’re a good man. I just couldn’t see how you’d have anything to do with me if I told you the truth. The kiss, even that night at the cabin . . . I meant it. But I knew what you would think of me when I left.’