by Lisa Shearin
“Yeah, and that being taken prisoner by her people was a good thing,” Jash quipped.
Suddenly my head snapped back from a punch to my jaw. A good one.
Talon.
He had been quiet since our capture. Now I knew why.
He couldn’t exactly express himself while we’d been manacled and surrounded by armed guards.
This was the reaction I had expected. Finally, Talon was doing something I understood.
I held up my hand to stop any of my team from interfering. “I deserved that.”
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to hear it from that bitch?” Talon’s voice rose to a roar, and I endured the onslaught.
He was furious and he had every right to be. Yet he wasn’t letting his anger get the better of him. As a spellsinger, he could have made each and every word more painful than that punch. Ronan Cayle had taught him that.
But he didn’t.
Talon was angry, hurt, and afraid—afraid of who he was, afraid of what he might do, of what he might become. It was something he felt he had no control over. He needed to take it out on someone, and since I was the one who had fallen in love with a Silvanus and together we had made Talon, I was the only one he could strike out at.
“You’re right,” I said, my hands at my side and making no effort to defend myself. It wasn’t necessary. Talon had done what he’d needed to do physically. Now came the hard part.
My explanation for why I hadn’t told him.
And the full story of how it had happened.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I was going to tell him, right here and right now, in front of everyone.
Though we were all locked in a cell. It wasn’t like I had much of a choice. And being locked in a cell, we had the time.
“I was your age,” I began. “Very much like you, in fact.”
Dasant barked a laugh. “And that is explanation enough.”
Talon and I shot him an identical glare.
Dasant took a step back, hands raised. “Just trying to be the diplomat here, lighten the mood.”
We continued to glare. Talon added a growl.
“When I was seventeen, your grandparents sent me to D’Mai in Brenir to study with your Aunt Kisa,” I said. “You haven’t met her yet, but you will. She’s your grandfather’s sister, and the only Nathrach of her generation with measurable magical skill. She also has some very strong beliefs about when magic should be used, and when it should not be used—and she is not shy about sharing her opinions. I had entirely too much magical power and I enjoyed using it. I had fallen in with the wrong people and was becoming increasingly involved in court politics.”
“At seventeen?” Talon asked.
“Your father has always been a go-getter,” Malik told him. “Pushing the limits, and all that.”
“Pushing entirely too many limits,” I said. I exhaled slowly. “I toyed with power I had no business having, let alone playing with, and that was exactly what I was doing—playing. I had no concern for the consequences of my actions. Though once I was in D’Mai, most of the time I was a model nephew. Kisa found plenty to keep me busy and out of trouble. Until trouble came to me.” I had to pause for a moment before I said, “Her name was Gelsey. She was a spellsinger Kisa had met through a friend, Gelsey’s mentor in D’Mai. One day, I heard a laugh coming from Kisa’s laboratory. I simply had to see who that laugh, that voice, belonged to.”
“And when he did,” Jash said, “it was all over.”
“You were there?” Talon asked him.
“Believe it or not, your grandmother considered me a ‘stabilizing influence’ on your father. I don’t know how much stabilizing I did, but I was more studious than he was.”
“And still is,” Elsu muttered.
“There was a lot to learn from an alchemist of Kisa’s skill,” Jash added. “And knowing what she did about Tam, she made sure to keep us busy. You’re not the only one adept at sneaking out of the house at night, Talon.”
Malik grinned. “You inherited that trait from your supremely gifted father. With you, we’ve all enjoyed watching him essentially attempt to parent himself.”
I ignored them both. “Kisa knew Gelsey to be serious-minded, so naturally she encouraged us to spend time together. I found out later that Gelsey’s family had sent her to D’Mai so they could secretly arrange a marriage for her with a politically powerful elven family. They didn’t want her finding out about it until the negotiations had reached the point that she couldn’t possibly back out or—”
“They could force her to marry someone she didn’t love?” Talon asked in disbelief.
“It’s common for nobility, especially with elves, less so with goblins.”
“Only highborn elves,” Phaelan interjected with satisfaction. “The rest of us marry—or don’t marry—who we damned well please.”
“Goblin women have a similar attitude,” Elsu said with a smile. “They’re also more inclined to make those feelings known through blades or poison, or blades with poison. If enough suitors don’t survive until the wedding, offers for a noble girl’s hand in marriage go way down.” She leaned in close to Talon. “And if the husband doesn’t show his true colors until after the wedding … Well, that’s why there always seem to be plenty of young widows at court. Something to know about goblin girls: if they say no, they mean it.”
“Duly noted.”
“A healthy attitude to have.”
“And good advice to give,” I told her. “Now, may I continue?”
Elsu inclined her head with a tiny smile. “Please do.”
“No one knew that Gelsey was a Silvanus. To hide from any fortune hunters or the many enemies of her family, she used her mother’s maiden name while in D’Mai. Even if I had known who her family was, it wouldn’t have stopped me. We fell in love and fell hard. We were discreet, so Aunt Kisa didn’t know there was anything going on other than harmless flirting. Gelsey’s mentor didn’t know. Summer ended and I was sent home. Gelsey was to leave a few weeks later, but she discovered that she was pregnant and ran away. I found out all of this months later. Gelsey kept one step ahead of her family by staying with a series of friends she had made without their knowledge. By then the marriage negotiations with the noble elven family had fallen apart, and the Silvanuses learned that Gelsey had had a child—a half-goblin child. She ran, knowing that her brothers would kill her for dishonoring the family name. When her brothers, Carnades among them, tracked her down, Gelsey left you with a friend and continued alone, leading them away from you.”
Talon had folded his arms over his stomach, his pale eyes fixed on the far wall. “Why didn’t she try to contact you?” he asked softly.
“I don’t know. If she had, we would have taken her in, protected her. I would have married her. Your grandparents would have loved to have had her as a daughter-in-law…” I closed my eyes for a moment. “I could have been a true father to you from the beginning, watched you grow, raised you together with your mother. I never would have taken the dark path that I did.” My anger grew and I let it. “Her brothers found Gelsey and killed her, then they returned to where she had left you and burned the house to the ground with all inside—except for you. Gelsey’s friend must have suspected Carnades and his brothers would return and had gotten you out of the house before they arrived.”
“I ran away from the people I was with when I was seven,” Talon said in a small voice.
“I looked for you,” I told him, nearly choking on the words. “I swear it. The trail ended at the burned house. I was told that everyone inside had died, and any who tried to escape were struck down by the Silvanus brothers waiting outside. In that moment, I vowed revenge, not only for Gelsey, but for the son I had never known.”
“So I’m half Silvanus,” Talon managed, his voice bitter. “I’m related to Carnades.”
“No, you’re Gelsey’s son and mine,” I said vehemently, willing him to believe it. “She disavowed her family
and her name. You’re mine. My son and my heir. You’re a Nathrach.”
Talon wasn’t buying it, at least not all of it, but perhaps it was enough.
He snorted. “I wondered why I was so curious about mirror magic. Somehow I don’t think Uncle Carnades would have been proud.”
I went still. “Curious?”
My son flashed a humorless smile. “You’ve had your secrets. I’ve had mine. So, they killed her because of me.”
I took a step closer to him, within Talon’s striking distance, but I didn’t care. “They did the killing. Don’t you ever blame yourself.”
Talon turned to face me. “Carnades killed her, and you knew.”
“Yes.” There was no room for denial, only the truth.
“And you did nothing. Took no revenge. Carnades murdered my mother and you did nothing.”
“I had power when I was your age, but not enough to take on a family of the Silvanus’s skill and influence. I swore I would have revenge; but to do that, I believed I needed more than what Kesyn Badru would teach me.”
“Black magic.”
I nodded tightly. “I found those willing to teach me, and I learned, and I learned well. I planned and I plotted. But to get the vengeance I wanted, I needed more than magical skills; I needed political power. I became a part of the Mal’Salin court and worked my way up, fought and killed my way up, until I was at the right hand of Gilcara Mal’Salin.” My words came in a rush of emotions that had been pushed down and held back for far too long. “I played the games of the court and learned to win by any means necessary. Eventually I decided what games would be played, and I made the rules. What began as a desire for revenge grew into a lust for more power. I was at the height of my black magic addiction, but I considered myself at no one’s mercy, let alone that of my own magic. As with everything else in my life, I believed that I controlled it, not the other way around. It ate away at my soul until my own family didn’t recognize me. They told me I was out of control, but I didn’t believe them. I thought I had perfect control, over myself and anyone I chose. I never forgot Gelsey, but I convinced myself that I needed to be even stronger. As a result, another woman I loved was murdered, and this time I truly had no one to blame but myself.”
The room was completely silent.
My friends were silent because they didn’t know what to say. I was silent because my throat had constricted around the words that still needed to come out.
I swallowed on a dry mouth. “That was when I hit rock bottom. I sought help, first from A’Zahra Nuru, then I met Mychael Eiliesor. I began a new life for myself on the Isle of Mid and Mermeia.” I felt my lips twitch in a tight smile. “While looking for new spellsinging talent for my club in Mid, I heard of a half-elf/half-goblin spellsinger who had recently arrived from Brenir. Against all odds, I hoped.” I met my son’s eyes. “I went to the club you were performing at … and as soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew you were Gelsey’s even before I heard you sing. When you did, I was taken back to that afternoon standing outside of Kisa’s lab.” I blinked my eyes several times. “I had found my son, and nothing or no one was going to take you away from me. I didn’t put aside my desire for revenge, but I swore to be more discreet. To protect you.” I took a slow breath; calming myself. “Gelsey was dead. Nothing I could do would bring her back. But I had you, the son I thought I had lost. To take direct action against Carnades would risk exposing you to him and his family. I failed to save your mother. I would not fail to save you. Carnades is dead, and his family remains unaware of your existence.”
“So they’ve gotten away with it.”
I smiled. “Revenge doesn’t have to be a blade to the heart. Yes, you can take your enemy’s life, but their evil works remain behind, continuing to grow and poison the lives of others. The Silvanus family does not value life, even the lives of its members. Carnades was not mourned. His name is cursed for what his failure has done to the family name, the damage to the plans they have nurtured for centuries. Thanks to uncovering Carnades’s plot, we now know his family’s ultimate goal is no less than to take the elven throne, and from there assure the destruction of the goblin people. Carnades is dead, but his brothers are not. His family is in disgrace, but they still have influence and power. They are every bit as dangerous as the Khrynsani. Until now, I have limited my efforts to undermining their power from behind the scenes. Now they blame Raine for Carnades’s death. Raine didn’t kill Carnades, Sarad Nukpana did, but with Sarad dead, they place the blame at Raine’s feet. They are plotting against her.” I smiled, and it felt good. “I am plotting against them. To destroy the Silvanus family is to destroy their chance at ever reaching the pinnacle of ambition and power. After we get home, the time has come to be direct. They need to know who I am—and why I am coming after them.”
Talon held my unblinking gaze. He sniffed, then swallowed. “You’re close to destroying them?”
“Oh, so close.”
A hint of a smile appeared. “Promise?”
“On your mother’s precious memory.” I put a hand on Talon’s shoulder. “You’re a man now. You know who your mother was, and what happened to her as a result of loving me and loving you. The Silvanus family thinks you’re dead. It is up to you whether to let them know otherwise.”
“I think you know my answer.”
I pulled Talon close and he let me. “Then let’s finish here so we can go home and get to work.”
The clear door wavered and vanished into the Heartstone floor.
It wasn’t the captain of the guard. From his robes, this visitor could’ve been a high-ranking member of the court. From his expression, he thought I was something to be scraped off the bottom of his boots.
“Princess Maralah wishes to see you,” he told me—in flawless modern Goblin.
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was the throne room from my dreams—except without Queen Baeseria.
Another unpleasant surprise awaited me.
Sandrina Ghalfari standing at the foot of the throne dais.
Her hands were manacled, as were mine now. I could hardly blame the Cha’Nidaar for not taking any chances. I sure would have chained Sandrina.
In Rudra Muralin’s book, my ancestor had found himself in much the same situation—brought before the throne with a pack of back-stabbing Khrynsani with evil on their minds and in their hearts. At least here it was just Sandrina without her entourage.
It appeared we were to be given the chance to explain ourselves, and what we were doing once again trespassing where we had been told never to return.
I had a good excuse. She was standing right next to me.
Sandrina was more than a master shapeshifter; she was a master liar, adept at what I referred to as “court charm.” I had watched her verbally eviscerate her opponents while appearing to be the very model of polite gentility. If any indelicate phrase passed her lips, it was due to the boorish behavior of her opponent. She was the perpetual victim, unjustly vilified, wrongly blamed.
I expected her to pull out all the stops here.
A door opened to the side of the dais, and a troop of guards marched through, escorting the courtier who had brought me here—and a woman I would have instantly recognized, had I not been told she was dead.
If this was Princess Maralah, she was the very image of her mother, or her ancestor, or whoever I had been talking to. She ascended the dais, turned, and sat on her throne, the courtier following to stand only one stair below.
Not a mere courtier then, but a high-ranking official.
The princess was tall and slender, with white hair that fell in a silken wave to her waist. On her head was a simple golden crown set with flickering Heartstones. Her robes were the blue of the sky on the surface, embroidered with delicate vines and leaves of the palest green and what looked like white roses.
All things that no longer grew on Aquas, thanks to the predecessors of the woman standing to my left.
The official had barely said a wor
d to me as he’d brought me here from the dungeon, but I didn’t need to speak to a man to know who and what he was—or the danger his presence here boded for my mission.
He had the angular features and high cheekbones of the old blood goblin families. Like Princess Maralah, his skin was gold and his hair white, but any resemblance either of appearance or intent ended there. His robes were unexpectedly plain for so one so highly ranked, which told me even more.
I had known many of his kind during my time in Queen Gilcara’s court. These men and women possessed the hunger for power and control, but they wished to avoid notice while they fed.
The peacocks who displayed their finery, bragged of their influential friends, and curried favor with sweet words were cowards when confronted with their deeds. The ravens kept to the shadows, quietly spreading their poisonous words and plots. They were rarely confronted, and seldom caught, and to do either put a target between your shoulder blades for the rest of your life. They were cunning and cautious—and deadly.
The princess was studying me, her pale eyes going from me to Sandrina and back again, all with no expression and in complete silence.
When she had looked to me, I inclined my head and bowed as I would for any monarch—especially one who held my life and that of my team in her hands.
Sandrina curtsied, but pride did not allow her to lower her eyes until the last moment, and she didn’t keep them downcast for long.
I saw where this was going. Sandrina was going to play the wronged woman and appeal to the princess as one woman to another.
Sandrina didn’t hesitate. “We have come to stop the Sythsaurians—the lizard men—from taking the Heart of Nidaar from your people. We were—”
I smiled. “The Sythsaurians’ staunch allies until they turned on you.”
“We were here to stop them,” Sandrina said smoothly. “We were doing that from the inside, gaining their trust—”
“And doing an abominable job of it.” I turned to Princess Maralah. “Your Highness, I do not want to take or destroy the Heart or your civilization. I merely want to keep it out of the hands of those who would use its power to enslave and destroy.” I hesitated. “I believe I have spoken with your mother, the queen. She has come to me in twice in dreams and most recently while I was in the hands of a Sythsaurian.”
