“Why in the name of the gods would you do something so bloody idiotic?” Corin snapped, truly angry as he glared at Bram. The last thing he needed was this wretched, troublemaking witch causing havoc.
To his surprise, Ameena stepped forward. “He didn’t have any choice,” she said, looking rather daunted, but facing him all the same. “Bram was badly injured and without Inés and her magic, he wouldn’t have been strong enough to get us here. He didn’t want to bring her,” she added, sounding increasingly defensive on Bram’s behalf. “But it couldn’t be helped.”
Bram gave her a grateful look before turning to face Corin himself. “I am afraid it’s true,” he admitted, looking rather mortified. “I didn’t know what else to do. I am sorry, Corin. Truly.”
Corin looked at him and shook his head, letting out a breath of frustration. “I believe you,” he muttered, as even Bram wasn’t that bloody idiotic. “Gods, Bram,” he added, wondering how the fellow managed it. “I swear it could only happen to you.”
Laen sniggered, only too happy to get his own back as Bram blushed, looking uncomfortable.
“He nearly died!” Ameena snapped at them, and then looked terrified as Corin turned to look at her again and she remembered who she was addressing. She put her chin up nonetheless, which made Corin smile, he admired her spirit. In fact, she seemed an interesting girl. “He … he couldn’t help it,” Ameena stammered, folding her arms now and staring at the floor rather than meet his eyes again.
Corin looked from her to Bram with interest, and though he really was very annoyed Inés was in the Fae Lands, he relented, smiling at Ameena. It really didn’t seem to be Bram’s fault, and such loyalty seemed to imply that the man had an admirer. “Quite so, my dear,” he said, nodding at her words with approval. “Bram, I apologise. It sounds as if you have had quite an adventure.” Corin gave Bram an enigmatic look, which suggested he wasn’t quite as forgiven as he was making out, and that he wanted details. “I cannot wait to hear all about it,” he added, his tone dry as he held Bram’s gaze. He returned his attention to Inés. “I am sure we are all very grateful for your help, Inés, and I will see you are suitably rewarded, but there is no need for you to stay any longer. I will have my men escort you safely back to the gate.”
Inés gave him a sly smile and got elegantly to her feet unaided “Ah, oui, my reward. I would like to discuss that with you.” Her eyes slid to Claudette and back to Corin in a manner that made his skin crawl. “Perhaps we could talk about it, in private?” She took a step closer to him and Corin moved further away.
“I think not,” he said, his voice cold, daring her to try anything. She’d blackmailed him into her bed before now, but there was nothing on earth that would induce him to repeat the performance, though he hadn’t the slightest doubt that was what she was angling for.
Inés looked back at Corin, head on one side, and then looked down to inspect her nails. “Jéhenne needs your help,” she said, the sharp green eyes returning to meet the gold with a pointed expression. Corin’s eyes narrowed at her, wondering what she knew. “Perhaps we could catch up and chat … about old times. I’m sure Claudette would find it interesting.” The barbed tone to her voice left him in no doubt that she would cause him trouble any way she could if she didn’t get what she wanted.
Corin looked around as Claudette moved closer to her, frowning with curiosity. “Wait, you know Jéhenne?” she asked, obviously intrigued that she was acquainted with one of her closest friends, and then frowned harder, no doubt recognising those sharp green eyes, so much like Jéhenne’s.
“Bonjour, Claudette.” Inés waved her fingers at her. “You know me already, chérie. Jéhenne is my granddaughter, I am Inés Corbeaux.”
Claudette looked up at Corin in confusion. “But I thought she was dead. You were there when I spoke to Jéhenne about it. It was the day we met, you both said ...”
Corin glared at Inés with hatred before turning to Claudette. “No, ma belle, she is not dead. You remember, I told you I had been taking a potion she made for me, to keep the voices at bay.” Claudette’s brow furrowed as she gave a confused little nod and stared at Inés with growing distrust. He couldn’t blame her in the slightest. “Inés is Dame Blanche, a witch, like Jéhenne. She is immortal and can regenerate to appear younger at will.” He wanted to reach out and take her hands to apologise for having deceived her, but he didn’t dare, as his worsening temper was making his magic ever more volatile. “We could not tell you at the time as you knew nothing of us or our world. I am very sorry that we didn’t tell you the truth, but it was our only option at the time.” He looked at her with anxiety, hoping that this would not make her unhappy. “You do understand?” he asked, watching the questions appear in her eyes and cursing Inés to the fires of Tartarus where she could remain.
Claudette nodded, though she said nothing. The way she looked at Inés suggested that she understood plenty, and she didn’t like it one bit.
Chapter 32
“Father?” Corin watched with concern as the old king’s eyes fluttered open.
His eyes flew open as he saw his son before him. “Corin!” He struggled to sit up, gasping with the effort as Corin sat on the bed beside him and took his hand.
“Hush, Father, lay still. There is no need to trouble yourself.” He swallowed down a lump in his own throat as he saw Edard’s eyes fill with tears.
“Oh, my boy, my boy,” he said, weeping as he clung to Corin’s hand, and pulled him closer to hug him. “I thought … I thought …”
Corin held him tight, his heart clenching as he discovered how very frail his father had become. “I know,” he said, letting him go and arranging the pillows behind him so that he was comfortable. “I am so sorry for having frightened you.” He smiled and took the king’s hand again, squeezing gently. “But as you see, I am fine.”
He clasped Corin’s hand between his own, his throat working with emotion, staring at him with such love and pride that it made Corin’s heart hurt. He had known for most of his life that this man was not his father, biologically speaking, at least. But Corin had never felt the lack of his true sire, whoever he had been. Edard had been the only father he had needed or wanted, a kind and forgiving presence who had never failed to be anything other than a loving parent. Though occasionally a stern one when Corin had pushed his patience to its limits.
Magic coiled around Corin’s fingers and Edard watched, amused, as it curled over his hand and up his arm. Corin huffed and cleared his throat, releasing his hold. “I haven’t quite got the hang of this yet,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck and feeling like an awkward child, not for the first time today.
Edard chuckled and patted his hand with a warm smile. “That is hardly surprising,” he said, breathing in with obvious awe as he looked Corin over. “You shine with power. I have never seen the like.” A shadow flitted behind his eyes that Corin tried hard not to notice. “You … you feel alright, like yourself, I mean? The voices, they have stopped?”
Corin dropped his gaze, unwilling to meet his father’s eyes. The old man saw too much. “I am fine, better than fine. I have never felt more alive.” He looked up, then, smiling, and Edard laughed with delight as the bed he was lying on sent out shoots that twisted and curled around the bedposts. The sweet scent of honeysuckle filled the room and dozens of tiny silvery blue butterflies fluttered around them.
Edard snorted, chuckling and shaking his head. “You always were a show off,” he said wagging his finger at his son.
“Always,” Corin agreed, grinning.
They sat quietly together for a moment before Edard spoke again. “I have always known, Corin,” he said, his voice low and full of sorrow. “You do realise that?” Corin looked up, not wanting to hear that tone in his voice, and certainly not what he was going to say next, but his father’s eyes were serious. “I’ve always known that you weren’t my son.”
Corin shook his head, wishing with all his heart that it wasn’t true. �
�Father ...” he began, wanting to stop him saying any more. He had always hoped he hadn’t known the truth, but it was clearly a foolish wish.
“It doesn’t matter now,” Edard pressed, sounding happier now, his eyes full of pride. “The land has chosen you so my bloodline is irrelevant, though I’m happy you’ll continue my name all the same, and with such honour.” He beamed at Corin, his face alight with happiness. “But I just wanted you to know that it has never mattered to me. I have always loved you as my own.” He paused before reaching out and putting his frail hand to Corin’s face and adding fiercely. “You are mine. I raised you, you are my son.”
Corin nodded at him, fighting not to break down and sob, and cursed his mother for having treated such a good and kind man so badly. He wiped a tear away with his sleeve. “I am,” he agreed, his voice thick. “I would have it no other way.”
Edard chuckled. “So emotional, just like your mother.”
Corin nodded, though he grimaced inwardly. He would not be like her. He would not cause Claudette the pain that his father had suffered.
Edard lay back on the pillows with a sigh, watching Corin with a curious expression. He pursed his lips, amusement in his eyes. “So, you and Laen …” His father cleared his throat. “You made up?” He lifted one eyebrow in an enquiring fashion.
“Oh.” Corin cleared his throat. “You saw that?” He shifted uncomfortably on the bed under his father’s scrutiny, and looked up again to see Edard trying to suppress a smile.
“I did,” his father agreed, his tone mild. “I’m so happy that things have worked out as they should. I would have been sorry to see you lose Laen’s friendship. I know how much it means to you and … well, who would have thought he had it in him?” he said, chuckling now.
Corin snorted and shook his head, taking a great interest in the pattern on the bed cover and avoiding his father’s eye for fear of blushing again. He would not make it twice in one day. “Certainly not me,” he admitted. “I am not often at a loss for words, but that … well, that was a surprise.”
The old man smiled and closed his eyes.
Corin looked at him with sorrow in his heart, wondering how he had suddenly become so terribly old. He remembered being a small boy and being swung up into arms that had seemed so strong that nothing could ever stand against them. Until his mother had worn him down. “I’ll leave you now, Father, get some rest.”
Edard nodded, his eyes opening again. “I am tired,” he admitted with a smile. “But come and see me again soon.”
Getting to his feet, Corin leaned down, kissing his father’s forehead. “Of course I will.” He turned away and walked to the door, stopping as his father spoke again.
“I am so proud of you, son,” he said, staring at Corin with such love and affection that it was humbling. “You will be the king that I never could be.”
Corin swallowed hard and shook his head, he wouldn’t allow that. “You were a fine king, Father, and if I am, it will be because of you and everything you taught me. I won’t forget, not any of it.”
He closed the door behind him and walked to the end of the corridor where Laen was waiting for him with Claudette, Dannon, and Anaïs. Dannon bowed low, and after a moment’s hesitation, Anaïs curtsied. “It is good to see you looking so well, Your Majesty,” Dannon said. Despite the strange and distressing nature of the day, the duke looked as impeccable as ever. Most everyone around him was a little singed and smelled strongly of smoke and ash, but somehow the Duke of Dannon didn’t have a hair out of place.
Corin searched the man’s expression for any hint of mockery, but could only see sincerity in his eyes. “Thank you, Dannon,” he said, deciding his suspicion of the man had to be put aside now. He’d proved his loyalty. He put out his hand to Dannon and shook it, clasping it tightly before he remembered. Dannon dropped his hand as fast as he could, though he was smiling. Corin returned a rueful smile. “Your support over the past days will not be forgotten,” he said, finding he really did mean it. Dannon had made himself indispensable in Laen’s absence.
Corin glanced around as he felt Laen shift uneasily beside him, guilt in his eyes, as the reason for Dannon’s support remained unspoken. Corin sent him a reassuring smile, and Laen rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor. Dannon looked from him to Laen and back again, and chuckled, shaking his head. “I should hope not,” he said, his voice tart and his usual mocking expression firmly in place.
Claudette turned to Corin and went to link her arm with his before remembering why that was a bad idea, and she sighed. “How is he?” she asked, concern in her eyes as Corin frowned.
“I … I don’t know.” He turned to Anaïs, hoping perhaps she could explain what he could not. “I have never been able to find anything wrong with him, nor have our healers, but ...” He shook his head and Anaïs smiled at him, though it was a rather sad expression.
“There is nothing wrong with him, Corin … I mean, Your Majesty,” she added in a rush, but Corin waved her formality away.
“Then why, why is he so unwell?” he demanded as Anaïs gave him a sympathetic smile and moved to take his hand. Corin snatched it away from her in alarm, that was all he needed. “No! Don’t touch me!” he snapped.
Anaïs jumped in shock and Laen snorted with amusement. “Don’t take it personally,” he said, grinning broadly and obviously enjoying Corin’s discomfort. “The new king is having a few issues with his powers,” he explained, waggling his eyebrows at her.
A slow smile curved over Anaïs’ mouth as she realised Corin was now suffering with a predicament that she had only mastered herself in recent weeks. Corin glared at Laen in irritation at having his issues made fun of. “I am perfectly capable of explaining myself,” he said with a huff before waving Laen’s amusement aside. “Never mind that. What is wrong with my father?”
He watched as Anaïs sighed and shook her head. “Nothing. He’s just tired.”
Corin frowned, certain that could not be the answer. His father was not so very old for the Fae, who could live to be thousands of years old, in some cases. Yes, his health had never been strong, but … “That cannot be all.”
Anaïs held his gaze, her eyes sad but honest. “He’s tired of living, Corin. He feels the weight of his years. He has held on because he wanted to see you become king. From what he said to me, I think perhaps that he would like to see you marry, but ...” She paused, seeing the effect her words had had on him as Corin’s swallowed, sadness blooming in his chest. “Make the most of him,” she said, her voice soft. “It’s possible he might not be with us for very much longer.”
Corin felt Claudette take his hand. “Are you alright?” she asked. He felt the magic rise between them but forced it down as hard as he could, not wanting to let her go. “I think I knew, really,” he admitted, looking away from the sympathy in her eyes, as it was too much. “I have for a long time; I … I just hoped. He is not so very old, you see. My grandfather lived to be twice his age, but … but ...” He shrugged and stopped speaking.
“I’m so sorry, Corin. I wish there was something I could do,” Anaïs said, and he looked back to see she was standing with Dannon’s arm tucked securely around her waist.
“Not your fault,” he said, forcing a smile to his face. “It comes to us all, I suppose, sooner or later. It is not as if he is unhappy about it. I know you are right, I just didn’t want to see it. He wants to join the Old Ones. It is what he waits for now.” He felt Laen lay his big hand on his shoulder and looked around at him.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, which somehow choked Corin even further bearing in mind what had just become of Laen’s father. “Would you prefer to see Océane another time? She’ll understand, in the circumstances.”
Corin shook his head and hauled in a breath. “No. I could do with cheering up, and I am looking forward to seeing how your babe has grown.” He chuckled, grinning at Laen. “Poor Océane, if it is built like you, she’s going to be enormous.”
Laen sn
orted, scratching at the stubble on his chin with a thoughtful expression. “She is certainly expanding at quite a rate,” he admitted before dropping his voice with a confiding air. “But I tell you now, you mention that at your own risk.”
“Understood,” Corin said with a grave expression.
They said goodbye to Dannon and Anaïs and were walking to Océane’s apartment when a voice hailed them from behind. Laen groaned as Bram caught them up.
“I thought you had gone off with your young lady,” Laen grumbled, his voice echoing around the endless stretch of corridors along with the thud of his heavy boots and the clank of his sword and various weapons. Corin cast a sideways look at him and smiled; he was still covered in blood and filth, but then, he’d had no time to clean up.
Bram scowled at him. “She’s not my anything,” he corrected, looking a little uncomfortable. Corin snorted as Laen rolled his eyes at him.
“What?” Bram demanded.
Laen shook his head. “Nothing,” he replied before adding with a hopeful tone, “Shouldn’t you be ...” He waved his hand in a general manner. “Making sure she is alright or … or something?”
Bram was looking around the castle with interest as they passed through the maze of corridors. He paused for a moment and grimaced in the face of a spectacularly ugly portrait of one of Auberren’s female ancestors before catching them up again. “Stop trying to get rid of me,” he said.
Laen looked to the heavens. “As if I would do such a thing?”
“Where are we going, anyway?” Bram inquired.
“We,” Laen said, pointing at himself and Corin and Claudette, “are going to see Océane, I don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I’m coming too, then,” he said, looking pleased by the idea. “Océane will be pleased to see me,” he added, smirking at Laen. “She likes me.”
Laen snorted and gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Océane is pregnant. She likes pickles with strawberries. Her judgement is clearly impaired. You can’t hold it against her.”
The Darkest Night Page 39
