“Koldis!” Talon interrupted Koldis mid-sentence. “That is enough.” There was no envying the withering stare Talon paid his Shield. Koldis was not bothered by it. “In any case, it is how Claire accomplished this feat that brings us here.”
Koldis sat back against the couch and crossed his arms.
“Now—” Talon turned back to her. “Explain yourself.”
“I don’t know how it happened.” She couldn’t explain something she didn’t understand. “One moment Caterina was hurting Desaree, and the next moment she was flying through the air.”
“Desaree?” Verath started.
“Yes, Lord Verath. Caterina attacked Desaree. If I hadn’t…” She shook her head in disbelief. “I got so angry...” At her words, Verath’s face hardened into stone.
Before she could say anything more, Talon stopped her. “I do not need the background story, Claire.”
Her mouth snapped shut.
“You lied to us. That is what bothers me.”
“No…” She shook her head. “I didn’t know. This is the first—”
“Perhaps use this opportune moment to reveal your secret, Claire.” Reyr locked eyes with her as his telepathic suggestion intruded upon her mind. She gave an imperceptible shake of her head. No way was she going to tell Talon about her ability, not when he was this mad.
You must tell him about me. It is time…
She balked at Cyrus’s command. First Reyr, now Cyrus. Was Cyrus crazy?
Before she could think it over, Talon spoke. “Tell me, Claire, how old are you?” The question caught her off guard.
“Um. Twenty-two.”
“People do not simply live out twenty-two years of life and suddenly perform magic.” Talon sighed as if disappointed. “How can we trust you after this?”
“Everything I ever told you was true!” she cried, raising her voice more than she intended. This statement did not include the things she hadn’t told him.
“Is that so? Everything that happened to Cyrus, the story of his death, the things he told you, you left no details out?” He shifted from one foot to the other. “I get the impression you are hiding something from us.” His impression was spot on.
You cannot ignore what happened when I died…
A sudden punch to her chest forced her to remember one key fact, one piece of information she never mentioned during her discussion with Talon. “Wait,” she gasped.
Tell them…
Talon’s gaze narrowed. “Ah-ha,” he said. “The truth comes out at last.”
“I never lied,” she said once more. “But I think there is something I might have forgotten to mention.” Her mind reenacted her last moments with Cyrus. Of their own accord, her fingers went to her lips.
“And?” The rooms occupants had become very still.
“Before Cyrus died…he kissed me.”
There was a long silence. Her eyes studied Talon as he frowned. It was the first unguarded emotion his face displayed. Likewise, the rest of her audience was not expecting this given their looks of surprise.
“I never mentioned our kiss because it seemed so harmless. It was a simple act to ease his passing and it was all I could do for him.” Her throat tightened and her eyes watered. She blinked to clear her vision.
“A kiss is hardly important to us,” Jovari said. He looked disappointed. Had he expected more?
“But…don’t you see?” She looked from one occupant to the next, silently pleading with them to realize something she already had.
“I fail to see what this has to do with anything.” Talon reclaimed her attention. His frown was replaced by impassivity.
She sighed. “Just before Cyrus died he asked me to do something—one last thing to ease his suffering. I thought...” She shook her head. That wasn’t important now. “He asked me to kiss him. I believed that he was merely lonely. Something must have happened when our lips touched.” She knew exactly what had happened. Somehow Cyrus’s voice embedded itself within her mind. “Now all of a sudden I can do magic.”
There was another long silence and then a shout: “The Gift!” Verath’s voice was jubilant. “Is it possible?” Verath looked at King Talon.
She swallowed. “Um, what—what is the Gift?”
“Verath, that is impossible.” Talon ignored her question.
“Not necessarily, Your Majesty. Think about it. Cyrus knew what was coming for us. He knew of Kane’s plans. Moreover, he knew Claire’s promise would be difficult for her. An outsider with no knowledge of Dragonwall could hardly hope to achieve what she has. Against many odds, Claire succeeded.”
She listened with interest to Verath’s explanation. He was right on all counts. Cyrus had gotten her through many a sticky situation.
“Wait a moment!” Jovari’s burst of excitement drew all eyes to him. “Reyr, remember when the Vodar attacked us on the planes of Kengr?!”
“Indeed, that incident comes to mind.”
“Good! Remember our shock at seeing Claire fight? She wielded that blade as if she were Cyrus himself.”
“Jovari is right,” Koldis cut in. “This theory explains much of our unanswered questions.”
“In his final moments Cyrus knew—somehow he knew. His Gift was his final act. It was all he could do to help us.” Having come to this realization, Jovari’s eyes were wide with astonishment.
“This is incredible!” Bedelth spoke for the first time.
“I suppose it is plausible,” King Talon mused. After his statement, they all began speaking at once, rapidly firing off ideas. They didn’t bother to include her.
“Excuse me,” she loudly interrupted, lifting her hands to silence them. “But is anyone going to actually tell me what this Gift thing is? I’m sure you’d love to discuss me indefinitely, and by all means, continue after I have left. But right now I just want to know what the eff is happening to me.” Her short temper revealed itself.
Verath came to her rescue. “Apologies, Claire. The Gift is a rare and ancient magic. Very little is known about it. How many documented cases have there been?” He looked about the room but no answer came, so he answered instead. “Three, I think. I am shocked that Cyrus knew enough about it to succeed. Then again, he was always well-read.”
She felt a frown pull at the corners of her lips.
“The Gift is a blessing...of sorts. Cyrus used an act of intimacy to pass his soul to you. In so doing, everything that was bound to him—his magic, his ability to bend minds, his memories—all passed to you.”
“What?” She was horrorstruck. “How—how is that a Gift?”
“I suppose the term is a bit ironic.”
“You think? So I’ve got to live with all this—this stuff inside me now?”
“It is not a plague.” Talon sounded offended. “Cyrus is not some disease you must be subjected to for the remainder of your life. He made a selfless sacrifice, giving up his soul’s opportunity to pass into the world beyond.” Talon’s words sank in, embedding themselves deep in her heart. She wanted to make sense of them, but everything was spinning. It was a lot to process.
“If what you say is true, Verath, then Cyrus is not with Leeana.” There was sadness in Reyr’s voice. No doubt he, who was the only other Shield to have a mate long ago, could understand this implication. “Cyrus has sacrificed his happiness for us so that his soul might remain here longer than it ought.”
“I can hardly believe it,” Koldis whispered. “Cyrus has truly returned to us. Our hope is not lost.” Koldis turned to her. His expression was strange.
Reyr stood and came over to her, going down upon one knee. He took her hand in his. “All this time,” he mused, studying her face with utter disbelief. “All this time and you were right here with us.”
Her eyebrows scrunched together. This was becoming weird. She looked up from Reyr and saw that the others were behaving strangely too. She cleared her throat. “Um, Reyr, it’s still me here, you know, Claire? I’m still the outsider you all hate so mu
ch. I don’t think you can simply talk to me as if I’m Cyrus now. It doesn’t work that way.”
“Perhaps not.” Reyr’s expression didn’t change. “But now we know that part of Cyrus is in there somewhere.” He got to his feet and turned to face the king. “You know what this means, Talon.”
Talon’s face was unreadable. Did he regret the way he’d treated her now that he understood a small part of her housed the remains of a beloved soul? “Indeed, Reyr. It means a great deal. Claire must be trained. Her abilities will strengthen our odds in the war to come.” As he said this, his eyes fell upon her. He no longer looked angry. There was hope in those silvery depths.
“And what of her position?” Koldis came to stand behind her chair. He placed a hand upon her shoulder. The simple act comforted her.
“She can be a servant no longer. My attempt to hide her away was going to fail anyway.”
She tried to process Talon’s words. Hide her away? That was his intention?
“The people will resist her. They will be reluctant to accept an outsider into their ranks.” Reyr’s matter-of-fact statement was jarring. She clenched her teeth, reminded yet again of what she was.
“Yes, their reluctance will be severe. There is only one way to mitigate it. I must change her position officially within the Court.” King Talon’s declaration meant little to her. She didn’t know much about their politics. If she had to guess, her days of servitude were coming to an end. But what would follow?
Reyr carried on while she desperately tried to follow. “Let me be certain I understand you, Your Grace. You would take responsibility for her?” He paused to allow interjection but no refute came. Reyr sighed. “I admit I am surprised.”
Talon shrugged. “Be surprised, Reyr, if you must. It is the best way to proceed. I must declare her my ward. The people will have no choice but to accept her. From now on, she will be my responsibility.”
Was she a child to be looked after? It didn’t make any sense. How was this any better than servitude? She tried to voice her disagreement but Reyr stopped her mid-sentence.
“Claire, you misunderstand. Becoming a ward does not necessarily peg you as a child. You are a woman grown, after all.”
“Then what does it mean?”
“It means that as the king’s own ward you will be elevated in status, elevated higher than everyone but King Talon himself.”
Her eyes narrowed and suspicion seeped into her gut.
“It means,” Talon cut in, “that you will be royal.”
“Royal…” she repeated, allowing the sound to tumble off her tongue like a foreign word. At first a frown pulled at her lips forcing her eyebrows to knit together. Royal…She was going to become royal in exchange for becoming King Talon’s ward? A moment later she burst into hysterical laughter, doubling over in her chair. After everything King Talon put her through—treating her like a traitor, throwing her in a cell, trying her before the elite of the kingdom, forcing her into a torture chamber, subjecting her to servitude—now he wanted to make her royal? This was just too much.
When her psychotic laughter died and she looked up, they were all gazing back at her with perplexed faces. “Pardon me,” she said, “I’m just thinking about how lucky I am to become the responsibility of someone who tried to kill me in the torture chambers.”
Her sarcasm hit its mark. King Talon, who was not often prone to embarrassment, turned a dark shade of red. All eyes fell on him. In true Talon fashion, he quickly honed his expression. “Well, accept it,” he said. “You can start by acting like a lady. That includes watching your tongue when you address your king.”
She schooled her features before her shock was known. Was this what it would be like to be his ward? “Do I have a choice in the matter?”
“None whatsoever.”
She clenched her teeth together and held her tongue, not because the king told her to be ladylike, but because she knew if she opened her mouth now, she was going to get herself into trouble.
“Both of you ought to relax,” Reyr said, lifting his hands to diffuse the tension. “Let us all get along. We are not your enemies, Claire.”
She flashed Talon an angry glare before turning to nod at Reyr. “So what happens now?”
“Well,” said Reyr, “the king will announce the changes, but until then you should lay low.”
She opened her mouth to respond but wasn’t afforded the opportunity.
“She will need to begin her training soon,” said Verath. “The sooner she learns to control her magic, the safer.”
“Agreed,” said Bedelth.
“And she ought to be given a better room,” said Jovari.
“And better clothes.” Koldis winked at her.
Each of these comments resulted in a flood of suggestions offered up as the king’s Shields began firing off multiple suggestions. They each expressed concern over the future and the role she would play. It was a lot to follow, and she felt a little lightheaded listening to it. She wasn’t certain how the king’s announcement of her status change would pan out, but one thing was certain: everything was about to change.
56
Kastali Dun
Desaree collapsed into an armchair—the only armchair she owned—her head still reeling from the fight with Caterina. Surely she had stumbled into a strange dream where the most absurd possibilities had become reality. Any moment she might wake—any moment life would return to normalcy. As she sat, staring unblinkingly at her chamber’s bare wall, she waited for that instant, but it did not come.
What would happen to Claire? The poor woman had acted irresponsibly, albeit courageously, in defense of her. Caterina might have taken many a liberty to harm her, and had already left several deep scratches upon her skin, had Claire not stepped in. But at what expense?
And the man who was once her stepfather, Lord Stefan Rosen, esteemed Lower Council member and advisor to the king—what of him? She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, thinking very hard on the affair. The mysterious pieces fit together perfectly. She was familiar with the rumors of his treason, but before today, she struggled to believe them. He had been missing a fortnight from society—never seen during dinner in the great hall, unnoticed passing through the corridors with his lovely daughter dangling from his arm. Now she had no choice but to accept the news: Stefan Rosen had betrayed the king
A sudden loud pounding at her door forced her to jump. She glared in its direction. “Desaree, are you in there?” Sarah’s prompting followed. After her heart settled, she resolved to stay silent but in vain, for once more Sarah called, “Desaree, I know you’re there. What is the matter? Tess says you are to be helping with dinner.”
She cleared her throat. “I cannot come. I—I have taken ill.”
“Have you truly?”
“Indeed. I should not be near the food. Tess will manage without me.” She waited for several long breaths. Only after the silence stretched forward did she sigh, relaxing her shoulders. She pulled her legs up and encircled them with her arms. Scrunched together, she laid her chin upon her knees. Then she closed her eyes to think once more.
It seemed that only a few minutes later more knocking pulled her from her reverie. “I told you!” she called, “I have taken ill!” Frustration heated her cheeks. This was most unlike her. How uncivil! Gods! What had gotten into her?
“Desaree! Is that you in there?”
She sprang from her seat, backing against the farthest corner of the room. Heat poured from her skin. “Lord Verath?” Her voice was little more than a squeak.
“It is I. May I come in?”
Desperately, she glanced about her chamber. Nothing was in disarray. Yet this was her private place. Lord Verath should not be here.
“Please,” he added when she did not answer.
She crept to her door and opened it a crack. There stood Lord Verath, nostrils flaring from heavy breathing as if he’d run the distance to her room. His scrutiny left her self-conscious.
“Gods abo
ve,” he swore. Without warning, his fingers grasped the door’s edge. He pushed it back. “Did she do that to you?”
“Who?”
“Caterina! Gods woman! Who in Asjaa’s name did you think I meant?” Taking her hand without permission, he guided her back to the recently vacated chair, placed his firm hands upon her shoulders, and pushed her gently into the seat. She watched him with wide eyes—she could do little else.
“What has gotten into you, Lord Verath?”
“You are hurt—that is what.”
“You are correct. My suffering is of Caterina’s making. It is but scratches and wounded pride. There is no need to be so riled.”
He scowled, taking further liberties with her. His fingers ran down the scabbing nail marks, trailing along her neck until he was forced to stop at her neckline. Her skin shivered beneath his touch. For a man as strong as he, the gentleness was unexpected. She was forced to turn her face away, if only to hide her thoughts visible there. This was too much—today was too much.
“May I?” he asked. Her gaze was forced back to his.
“May you what?” She choked on the words as her throat tightened.
“Heal your wounds. I can if you let me.”
She swallowed, shaking her head at last. Why did he fret over mere scratches? They would heal just fine on their own. Verath’s frown deepened, putting worry lines into his face—lines that did not belong. “Never mind your wishes, I will heal them anyway.”
She opened her mouth to protest but his muttering, his warm palm against her neck, and the focused intent in his eyes, forced her to silence. A strange tingling spread over the area he addressed. She could not see what happened, but she felt it.
“There.” He stood and backed away. At once she jumped up and rushed to her looking glass.
Talon the Black Page 52
