by Katy Haye
“Yes, Jurelle is safe.”
The implication was clear. “Are - are you a shifter?”
“No. My mother's magic took quite a different form in me.” He looked past me, evaluating something I couldn't hope to guess. He reached for my hand. “The fae are like us in many ways. Their usual form is human, men and women as we appear. But they also have stories of fae who take a different form. They are neither male nor female, or they are both at the same time.”
“Neither, or … both?” I frowned, not understanding. “How is that possible?”
A slim shoulder lifted and fell. “A quirk of magic. It is rare, but it happens.” He looked straight at me, his amber eyes pleading for understanding. “I know, because I am proof of it.”
He let go my hand and rose, standing before me. “I will have to show you, Hanna. And if you reject me, you can go home to your island, but you must never breathe a word of this moment.”
His fingers moved down as he unbuttoned his shirt. I couldn’t move. He tugged his shirt off and flung the fabric onto the table behind him, revealing skin a few shades darker than my own, a slim figure and hairless chest. It felt wrong to stare, but my eyes still skimmed over his form, looking for the difference he had spoken of. His chest was, perhaps, a little more rounded than I might expect for a man.
His hands moved to the waistband of his trousers.
I wrenched my gaze away. “No, please, this is not right.”
“I won’t harm you, I swear it. I need you to see me before you give your final answer.”
From the corner of my vision I saw as he pushed his trousers down to his ankles and stood tall. “Just look on me, Hanna. Please.”
His voice was soft, almost pleading, I couldn’t refuse him. I looked. And I blinked as I saw the form his magic had given him. “I think I understand, Jaran.” My gaze darted to his face. His expression was unutterably sad. “Can you accept me as your husband, even knowing this?”
I stepped forward, reaching a hand to touch his face. “You have carried this secret all your life.” It wasn’t a question. I could see the truth in every line of his body.
“You don’t...” He took a deep breath. “I don’t disgust you?”
“Never!” I reached out without thought, my arms going around him. “I am so sorry you have carried this burden alone for so long. I would be privileged to help take its weight.”
His eyes sparkled with unshed tears. “You would do that for me?”
“I would do that and more. You’re the prince this kingdom adores. And I would be honoured to be your wife.”
His arms went around me, his grip strong. “Thank you, Hanna,” he whispered. We stood together, pressed close and the only sound was his shuddering breaths as he clung to me.
32 – Justice
“I have dallied long enough.” Jaran pulled away from me, dragging his shirt over his head and putting his clothing back in order. “It’s time to speak with your father and Venner and see who will place their loyalty above Redmor’s scheming.”
I hoped my father would cooperate with the prince, but having been let off the hook by the prince’s scientific glass, I feared he would do nothing against Redmor – whether through loyalty to a friend, or fear of an enemy. “I’ll come with you.” Jaran swung round and I dropped my gaze. “If you will allow, your highness. I should like to hear what he says. And perhaps I can persuade him to honesty.”
He gave a brief nod. “Very well. You deserve explanations, too.”
Jaran’s hand was warm around mine as we hurried up two flights of steps that took us from the council chamber to the ground level and then to the rooms used by the candidates. Father and Lord Venner were being confined in Jesca and Glynneth’s old rooms.
A sense of warmth stole over me as we moved through the palace. I was Jaran’s chosen bride. I would shortly be Muirland’s princess. And Jaran had trusted me with a secret that would shake the kingdom to its core. Although – why should that be the case? Why should the shape of his body matter? He was an intelligent and fair ruler. That was all anyone should care about.
We turned a corner onto the corridor where the candidates’ rooms were, and Jaran gave a cry. Between the rooms, a figure lay slumped against the wall. “Not again!” Before I could ask what he meant, Jaran dropped my hand and ran forward.
The noise of a disturbance in the room beyond broke the air and I clutched at my skirts and ran after him, my heart surging with alarm.
I reached the door a moment after Jaran, taking in the scene at a glance. My father and Mage Redmor faced each other inside. The room was in disarray, covers pulled from the bed, a table and chair overturned. Mage Redmor wielded a dagger, his expression calm as he looked for a way to reach my father, who was keeping the mage at a distance with what looked like a book.
“Stop this!”
Mage Redmor turned at Jaran’s furious voice. My father took the opportunity to step forward and swing at the mage. The book smacked up into his jaw. A loud crack rang out as Redmor’s head snapped backwards and he crumpled to the floor, insensible.
My father turned, his expression changing when he saw Jaran. He dropped the book and held his hands palm out as though to prove he was no threat. “He meant to kill me,” he said, his tone a mix of outrage and disbelief. Despite the desperate situation, a part of me was distanced enough to wonder that he had truly expected honour from a man like Redmor.
Jaran stood in the middle of the room, arms folded. “And why would he want to do that, Lord Bal?”
Silence fell. Father pressed his lips together. He was probably afraid of all the secrets that might come tumbling out if he opened his mouth. Even now, when Redmor had proved himself faithless, father was still not prepared to tell Jaran of their plot. I looked down at the mage with distaste. He was utterly still, crumpled in an ungainly heap, his skin pale. I ventured further into the room, crouching beside him.
“Must I remind you where your loyalty lies?” Jaran demanded, his tone icy. “Or where you said it lay when you agreed to serve my father as Lord of the Isles?”
Father’s mulish silence continued. I looked up, dropping the arm I’d lifted to check Redmor’s pulse. “You owe Redmor no loyalty now, father. He’s dead.”
“What?” Father paled, stepping forward. “He can’t be.”
Jaran looked to me for confirmation. I nodded. “He is. I think the blow snapped his neck.” My stomach was churning, but I knew enough to be sure that the mage would never rise again.
Father stared at Redmor’s body in disbelief. “I didn’t hit him that hard. It was an accident.” He faced Jaran, eyes pleading. “It was self-defence. You saw the man. He had a dagger.”
“This is a serious matter,” Jaran told him calmly. “It is time for you to tell the truth.”
Father stumbled back, breathing heavily as he reached behind him. His fingers found the edge of the bed and he sank onto it, rubbing his face with his hands as though he could rub out the sight of the dead mage and the furious prince.
Jaran strode to the door and shut it with a snap. Father looked up at the noise and his shoulders slumped as though he understood he could no longer continue his deceit.
“The entire plot was Redmor’s idea,” he admitted. “He gave me a potion that would ensure you fell in love with Hanna. His plan was to influence you through her.” He gave a mirthless smile. “He said he had manipulated your father easily, but you required a more subtle approach.”
Jaran’s face might have been carved from stone. “Why did you agree?”
Father swallowed several times. “He threatened Dana.”
My step-mother. “Could you not keep her safe?” I demanded. “Rather than place your daughter in danger?”
Father looked at me bleakly, but I didn’t suppose he was sad about his treatment of me. “I couldn’t keep her safe from this.” His gaze travelled past me and Jaran to the door, as though checking it was closed and we wouldn’t be overheard. “Dana has magic. She
is a witch. Why do you think we have only sons?”
I sucked in a breath, shocked at the admission. “But she was sorry to have so many boys. She sent me away because I reminded her of the daughter she longed for and never had.”
Father shook his head, a small smile playing about his lips as though the recollection amused him. “She sent you away because you were becoming curious. She feared you would guess her secret.”
I remembered those last, confusing few months, when my step-mother had sent me from her presence time after time, for no reason that I could understand. I thought I had done something wrong, and then that I was simply wrong in myself, a thorn in her side. “I had no idea,” I whispered.
“That’s good.” Father took a deep breath and sighed it out, his shoulders slumping. “But Redmor found out. If I didn’t do what he said, he would denounce her to the mages. And you know the price she would pay.” Execution. His face crumpled. “I can’t lose her. I just can’t.”
His shoulders shook as he sobbed, fat tears running down his face. A shiver ran down my spine. I had never seen my father like this. I had not thought him capable of love, but his affection for Dana was clear, his fear of losing her genuine.
“Please.” He sniffed and looked up at the prince. “I know you have no love for the mages and their rules. You will not harm her?”
“Certainly not. It is barbaric to punish someone for what is in their nature and cannot be helped. But this matter must be resolved.” He waved a hand to take in Redmor’s lifeless body. “Muirland must have justice.”
Father paled again. “You would not make me face judgement like a common criminal?” He looked more appalled by that idea than by what he had done.
“I have no wish to make you face public disgrace, but there must be reparations. The council must know that justice has been done.”
Father looked utterly defeated, a powerless child now he faced the loss of all he had. “What do you intend to do with me?”
Jaran gave it a moment’s thought – or perhaps he just pretended that was what he was doing. I suspected his thoughts had been running ahead from the moment he’d taken in the scene with my father and Redmor. “We could deal with this through a blood price. A fine to balance the loss of Redmor’s life.” His face was hard; unforgiving. “Be warned: it will cripple you.”
Father swallowed. “We are not a rich area, but I will abide by your decision, your highness.”
Jaran exhaled. I thought I saw a flash of satisfaction in his eyes. That was what he had wanted all along: for father to defer to his authority. “There is another possibility,” he said.
“Yes?” Father was childishly eager.
“You could choose exile.” Father’s mouth opened, but Jaran continued before he had chance to speak. “You retire to live quietly in the country with your beloved wife, and your eldest son takes over your abdicated role.”
Father chewed his lip. He would never accept. The loss of face would be unbearable for him. His brows drew together. “I accept.”
My jaw dropped.
He sighed. “Perhaps I am growing too old for the cut and thrust of politics. In truth, I would welcome a quieter life. And Martyn is as prepared as I can make him. I accept, your highness.”
Jaran nodded. “I will speak to the new Lord Bal, and then I will summon the council to inform them what has happened.”
He strode out without a backwards look at the defeated figure on the bed. I followed the prince. I had nothing to say to my father. He was retreating to the country, while my future lay here, at Jaran’s side.
33 – Never Let Him Go
“How did Redmor hope to get away with murder?” We were in Jaran’s chamber. I was pacing while he sat by the window, toying with one of the counters from his nine dragons gold set.
“I believe he would have placed the blade in your father’s hand to suggest suicide.”
“And why do it himself? The guard would surely have spoken against him.”
Jaran stared at the counter in his hand. “Perhaps he had no one left to compel to his dirty work. Or he simply panicked.”
“I can hardly believe he’s dead.”
“I wish I could say I were sorry for it,” Jaran replied.
“Why was he waving a dagger around in the first place? And knocking out a guard? Why threaten Dana? Why did he not simply use magic to compel others to what he wanted?” That was what I couldn’t understand: if the mage was so powerful, why hadn’t he used his magic when matters became dire?
“I think he couldn’t,” Jaran replied. “I have long suspected that our mages are little more than fakes.”
“But ... the potion...”
“Oh, fakes with a little knowledge.” The reason they are so opposed to peace with the fae is because it stops them from finding more dragons to replace the one they so carelessly lost. They use a dragon’s magic to create their spells and potions. I don’t think they have any magic of their own at all.”
I blinked at him. “But ... the mages have been in charge of magic in Muirland for centuries.”
His smile was bleak. “A confidence trick, perpetuated by each generation. My belief is that the mages can use magic, but they don’t possess it. They are ... children, playing with something they stole from others. Dragons have magic, the fae have magic and I don’t doubt there are some few in Muirland who have magic – although the mages would do their utmost to crush their abilities.” He sighed. “My sister could use magic, and she was far more impressive than Mage Redmor ever was.”
Shape-shifting, like the fae. Yes, that would be a talent to inspire awe. So many secrets, it was as though the kingdom were shrouded with them. “I want us to have no secrets from each other,” I told him.
He stopped toying with the counter and watched me for a long moment. “That would be a great relief.”
I looked past him to the games board, remembering our afternoon together. “Did you know what I intended? That day?”
He nodded. “I meet a lot of people, Hanna. Some are as honest as they appear. Others wear a mask. Or several. I have to decide quickly which is which.”
“And what did you think of me?”
“You were scared. Not just nervous, which I expected, but scared. Given what I already suspected about Redmor and your father, I thought you were scared of what you had to do.”
“You gave me an opportunity,” I pointed out. “When I asked for a drink, and then you looked out of the window. That gave me time to act.”
“And yet you didn’t.”
“How could you be sure your glass hadn’t been tampered with?”
He smiled. “Your sense of relief told me. I was sure you hadn’t used the potion. I’m glad I was right.” He reached for my hand. “I’m glad I can trust you, Hanna.”
Warmth unfurled in me at the affection in his tone. “I nearly used it,” I confessed. “I was so scared for mama, I didn’t think there was another way out.”
“And yet, you made one.” He kissed my knuckles.
I watched his face. “You won’t make my half-brother suffer for what my father plotted?”
“He bears no blame, and I need him confident enough to make a success of his father’s role,” he told me. “I am not a vengeful man. The change of power from your father to your half-brother is all I needed.”
“Needed?” My attention sharpened. “Why did you need to replace my father?”
“I wasn’t sure of his loyalty. The crown wasn’t sure of his loyalty. He was working closely with Mage Redmor and Lord Venner, opposing the treaty with the fae. He needed to be crushed a little if I were to choose you for a bride.”
I stared at him. “You wanted to punish him because of me?”
His arm tightened around my shoulders, holding me against him. “Not because of you.” He sighed. “The kingdom is a large and complex thing. I need to rely on my councillors more than is often comfortable. I need to trust them to act in the kingdom’s best interests and not allow
self-interest or pride to dictate their actions – or not often. It was a balance – if I married you then I could demand his loyalty as kin, but he might also take the alliance as a sign that he could act with impunity. He needed to understand that if I chose you his disloyalty would not be tolerated.”
I nodded, numbly. Of course the prince had known my father’s faults as well as anyone. Everything had seemed straightforward before I’d come to the palace, and now I was learning that it was everything but. And this was now my life, being a part of the crown, having to weigh and judge everything and everyone before I could consider my own preferences. “I’m sorry he wasn’t trustworthy,” I said dully.
Jaran gathered my hands in his. “I will be honest with you, Hanna. I considered all the candidates before ever they set foot in the palace. I would be a fool not to have done so. I could not choose Claresse because her brother is already too rich and powerful for my liking. I would not elevate her family if I could possibly do otherwise. There was no call to choose Rannyl because she didn’t want the role, and I know I have Lord Clofe’s loyalty without it. Glynneth was an outside possibility, although I have no wish to wed a child. She could have been shaped to my needs, but doing so would have been more work than I wished to take on. The true choice was between you and Jesca. Both families needed to be prompted to stronger loyalty towards the crown. You owned up while she stayed silent. Jesca discounted herself and you didn’t.”
I regarded him in horror, all my hopes sunk to the earth. “So it barely matters who I was? You didn’t choose me at all.”
He squeezed my hands, forcing me to look at him. “You said you wanted no secrets, Hanna. Don’t sulk now you know my mind.” I wanted to pull away, but that would just make him think I was sulking and I wasn’t, I truly wasn’t. “There may not have been much choice in the matter, but always remember that I did choose you. I could have sent you home like Jesca, remember.” He nudged my chin up. “I chose you because I wanted you for my wife. Never doubt that, and never doubt my regard for you.”
