Tempest (25 page)

I think I may have gasped, but I wasn’t sure. The silence was so deafening even breathing was loud.

“No,” Gryphon hissed. He was staring at his father, his face pale.

Conall swallowed. “Soren was Garod’s sister. She was a beautiful woman, kind and quiet ...”

Gryphon reached out and gripped his father’s shoulder. “No!” he repeated, his voice louder than it had been before.

Conall’s eyes closed, breaking our connection. “Garod is your uncle,” he said. “I’m your father.”

Gryphon’s hand came up to cover his mouth, his eyes wide with horror.

“And you left her mother in Medeisia to die!” he roared.

I left the reaction up to Gryphon, my eyes staring at his irate face, at the way his blue eyes shone as he pounded the table in front of his father. I didn’t say anything. I wasn’t even sure I remembered how to speak. I just stared, stared at the man who’d just told me I was Garod’s niece rather than his daughter, stared at Gryphon, my outraged half-brother. My brother.
I
had a brother.

“I couldn’t bring her to Sadeemia,” Conall said, his voice low.

I knew by looking at Gryphon that he was older than me, knew that he had other siblings, and knew this meant Conall was married. I was the unfortunate off-spring, the child that should have never been born. The same child who’d been born to the forests the night of a Harvest Moon.

Gryphon’s gaze moved to mine, the shock in his eyes as stark as mine. He opened his mouth before closing it again.

“I’m sorry,” Conall whispered.

I finally found my tongue. I should be angry. I should be crying and upset, but I wasn’t. I was angry for my mother—that she’d been left lonely, afraid, and pregnant—but I wasn’t angry for me.

“I’m not sorry,” I managed.

And I wasn’t. I wasn’t sorry I’d been born in Medeisia, or that I’d been raised amongst my uncle’s Archives. Nor was I sorry I’d met the rebels. And I most certainly wasn’t sorry I’d fallen in love with Kye.

I saw flames in my mind, flames and fire. In it, I still heard Aigneis’ screams, and I knew now she’d died with many secrets. She’d known. Even Garod knew. Of course he knew! He’d taken his sister’s child into his home, and lied to his wife, telling Taran that I was his illegitimate daughter. He’d protected me. For that, I loved him.

“I’m not sorry,” I said again.

And I wasn’t.

Chapter 28

I don’t remember most of the council meeting following Conall’s admission. There was a lot of yelling, many suggestions, and a tentative plan for invading Medeisia. And then there was me. There was more talk of the Book of Truth, more stares, more gasps. Because of my birth and my power, I was a direct link to the Sadeemian gods according to the scribes. Daegan protested, his faith in our gods strong enough to induce argument. I was the daughter of the forest, Daegan said, the child of Silveet.

I didn’t say a word. I just stared, my thoughts going to my mother. The kind, quiet midwife who’d given birth to a child she would never know within the protection of the trees.

I missed the trees.

“We are here,”
a voice called out.
 

My head lifted, my gaze going to the arrow slit window. Had the trees heard my call, heard my internal conflict?

“Stay calm, daughter of the forest,
” they said. “
In the end, it will be your ability to remain calm that will save us all.”

I stared at the window. I should cry. I should scream. Something.

“Why?”
the trees asked.
“So you discover you are the daughter of a man you never knew? In the end, your true family is the forest.”

I swallowed back my tears, my eyes closing.

Behind me, there was a heated discussion about Raemon. The wyvers would know if we entered the country, someone argued. There is no doubt he has spies among the Sadeemians, someone else countered. This whole war was a foolish idea, impossible, another voice added.

I didn’t know who said what. My ability to discern their voices was lost in my own thoughts, but I knew one thing.

“You’re all wrong,” I said, my voice loud and confident despite my damp lashes and closed eyes.

“With war comes great sacrifice,”
the trees said.
“Remember your strengths.”

I stood, pushing back my chair before moving to the window. The trees could hear me now even when I wasn’t speaking. They knew my thoughts. I wasn’t sure if my powers had grown or if it was just something I hadn’t allowed myself to experience until now.

My eyes went to the thin line of blue sky beyond the castle wall.

“Ari,” I whispered.

Only one word, and the entire room was filled with an answering
kek, kek.
A dark shape drifted on the breeze beyond the window, growing bigger as the falcon landed on the stone sill, her beady eyes on mine.

I raised my hand, and she jumped onto my wrist.

“You’re all wrong,” I said again. I turned, the large falcon perched heavily on my arm as Oran padded to my side.

“About damn time you figured this out,” the wolf grumbled.

My eyes swept the room. “War is not impossible. The wyvers can be swayed. Raemon isn’t the only man with spies. Your human spies are fallible.
My
spies are everywhere.”

It took everything I had not to show any fear, to be the leader the forest needed me to be, to be their voice.

Cadeyrn stood, his sword at his side.

“Nature and steel,” the prince said, his gaze going to his father’s. “The biggest threat lies in the broken pendant you wear around your neck. If Raemon succeeds in getting it, there would be more than war. We would be dominated and destroyed.”

Lochlen rose. “The dragons need the pendant returned. It is too powerful to remain in human hands, but until we get Raemon’s half of the pendant, it is too dangerous to remove yours. Any weakness could be your downfall.”

Freemont massaged his temple.

“So we are all in agreement,” he asked. “War with Medeisia?”

There were affirmative nods and many “ayes”.

The king reached for a piece of parchment before running a quill pen over its surface, the
scratch, scratch, scratch
ing of the pen mesmerizing me.

Freemont signed it before passing the paper to his sons. Both of them left their signatures. Lochlen did the same. The monarchs of Sadeemia and the prince of dragons.

Finally, Conall added his name to represent the people, and wax was dripped onto the page before Freemont pulled his dragon pendant free from the folds of his tunic.

I watched as the king left his seal, my eyes roaming the black scribbles on the page. Words. Such powerful things words were. Powerful enough to start wars. Powerful enough to end them.

Chapter 29

Two days passed after the council meeting with no more than a couple of private council discussions, due to the influx of guests arriving for the betrothal ball announcing Gabriella’s engagement to Prince Cadeyrn of Sadeemia.

There was little opportunity for visiting, although Gryphon stopped me once in the palace, his stance awkward as he patted me on the back.

“I always wanted a sister,” he’d said. “I’m the second of three sons.”

That had surprised me. I had three brothers. I wasn’t sure how to deal with that, wasn’t quite sure how to answer him, so I had nodded. He’d patted me on the back again, and then pulled me into an awkward hug.

“There will be more time later,” he promised.

I nodded again, my heart clenching. I would always look at Gryphon and see the man who’d once held a sword to my back, the same person who’d offered to give the man I loved relief from pain. He was the second son to the most powerful man in Sadeemia, and he was my brother. A warrior first, but also a physician. It seemed healing ran in the blood.

Gryphon had walked away then, his own emotions warring in his face. My true father never approached me.

With night came my isolation in Cadeyrn’s room, my gaze on the wall as the prince paced his chamber, his hard eyes always watching. The second evening, I noticed a chess board. It wasn’t much, but I’d always loved matching wits with Aigneis and the novice scribes at Forticry, and I’d challenged Cadeyrn to a game. It had stopped his pacing. We’d sat across from each other, each of us silent as we moved our pieces. He’d won, but I’d challenged him to a good game. The prince had amazing strategic abilities, his knowledge astounding. My company seemed to ease him. I wasn’t sure what his company did for me, but his friendship made me feel safe even though I knew being seen with him was more a risk than anything.

And then there was Gabriella, Cadeyrn’s betrothed. Something about her made me uneasy, her glares as I walked the palace halls with the prince were deadly. We never spoke, never interacted in any way, but I could hear her fits at night from Cadeyrn’s room. His head would lift when they came, his sighs long when they ended. Life with her would not be an easy one.

The betrothal ball was to be a big event, and Maeve and I were recruited—along with everyone else in the palace—to clean or embroider. Even discovering I was the daughter of the Sadeemian minister of government had not raised my rank. I was glad of it. I enjoyed the servants’ chatter, enjoyed going down to the courtyard in the afternoon with Daegan and Maeve to see Cadeyrn’s soldiers train.

Watching the warriors parry with swords was a favorite pastime for the noblemen and women who came to stay in the palace. They stood outside a stone training ring, clapping for the victors and screaming encouragement.

Even Cadeyrn fought, stepping into the ring with his impossibly heavy sword; his expression even, his eyes cold. It was his fighting face. There was never any fear in his eyes, never any weakness. Only the strongest men, and those who didn’t know much about Cadeyrn’s prowess, dared challenged him. Maidens leaned over the wall, their eyes wide, their handkerchiefs waving, interest evident in their gazes. Gabriella reveled in it, wearing her most form fitting gowns while blowing kisses at the prince. He ignored them all.

Cadeyrn was a marvel in the ring. I had never seen fighting like the kind he did. There was never any mercy. But in the end, Cadeyrn always shook the hands of his opponents. He never boasted, just fought silently before walking away upon its conclusion.

There were archery competitions, too. Even noblewomen shot their bows toward close targets and cheered if it hit the center. I shuddered. The red bull’s eye reminded me of blood, reminded me of arrows protruding from human flesh.

Gabriella had challenged Maeve and I with her bow, but I’d refused, walking away with my head held high. I wouldn’t shoot a bow for sport anymore. I’d been forced to do it as Garod’s daughter. Now it seemed wrong to challenge maidens who’d never shot to kill.

Cleaning, sewing, and swordplay ... for two days, this was the way of things until the night of the ball. For two days, there was peace.

Chapter 30

“We shouldn’t have to attend this thing,” Maeve complained. She pulled at her gown before tugging on the brown cloak we’d been forced to wear over them.

Cadeyrn had enlisted the help of the royal mages, getting Daegan, Maeve, and I admission into the mage academy with training to commence once it was peaceful enough to do so. Until then, we were still Medeisian rebels; good enough to trust with a war, but still dangerous enough we couldn’t be left alone. Hence the reason we were being forced to attend the prince’s betrothal ball not as guests but as faux scribes, all of us donning brown cloaks with hoods pulled up over our heads.

“It’s only one night,” I answered while fingering the cloak. I liked the brown material. It reminded me of the forests, of the cloaks we’d donned when the snows came.

“The longer you stand here, the longer the night will be,” Daegan pointed out as he moved past us, heading down the marble staircase. We followed, Madden and Ryon at our backs. We’d gotten used to the guards shadowing us. Sometimes, I’d even forget they were there.

Lochlen fell in beside me, his brown hood hiding his strange eyes. Oran was left above stairs. It bothered me that the wolf couldn’t attend, even if I did understand the reasoning. I’d only agreed after Cadeyrn promised his chamber door would be left cracked open, a guard in the hall.

Music surrounded us as our feet touched the landing, the sound of instruments being plucked and pounded at as we rounded the corner invading my thoughts. The ballroom was magnificent, gleaming from the light of multiple flames burning in large chandeliers full of murky liquid. I stared at them.

“It’s lamp oil,” Madden said from behind me. When I looked back at him, he shrugged. “I’ve noticed you looking at it often over the past couple of days. It’s a type of liquid that creates fire rather than dousing it.”

I smiled my thanks, my gaze going back to the ballroom. Women in full, colorful gowns and glowing jewels twirled around the room with men in wrinkle-free tunics covered in magnificent surcoats. A table full of refreshments sat along the back wall, next to a group of minstrels who sang and strummed heavily on harps and other instruments. I wasn’t used to music, and even though the sound wasn’t a bad one, I wasn’t sure I liked it. The melody drowned out the trees’ whispers beyond the courtyard, leaving me feeling vulnerable and afraid.

Lochlen and Daegan led us around the room’s perimeter, and we mingled with the other scribes and mages as they did the same, their eyes on the revelers. There was a rejoicing cry when the king entered, his queen on his arm. Behind him, Arien marched, his own wife clutching his sleeve, her delicate arms covered to the elbow with white silk gloves.

Cadeyrn entered next, his only concession to the event a black coat he wore over his usual white tunic and black trousers. His hair was tethered behind his neck, his watchful gaze constantly searching the room. It put me at ease, even when the crowd cheered once again as Gabriella entered from a door opposite the prince. She was led up onto a dais dominated by the royal family, resplendent in a blue, jeweled gown and silk gloves. She met Cadeyrn in the center and Freemont lifted their hands above his head.

“To the betrothed!” the king declared.

He joined their palms, and the crowd exploded. Chalices were lifted and emptied, handkerchiefs were waved, and cheers rose up to the ceiling. Two liveried soldiers pulled open double wooden doors at the end of the room, opening the ballroom up to a beautiful, manicured garden beyond. I saw trees there, their dark shapes fluttering in the navy blue sky, a crescent moon and a sprinkling of stars behind them.

The crowd mingled, some of them spilling out into the gardens beyond, dancing around torches that sat along cobblestone paths. I eased around the ballroom, my eyes on the doors.

“I sense something,” Lochlen said suddenly from my elbow, his hand going to my arm.

I looked up at him.

“Sense something?” I asked.

He nodded.

I strained my ears, attempting to hear the trees beyond the music and failed. My feet moved forward, my gaze on the sky and my eyes more alert. It was then I saw it, the dark shape that flew suddenly in front of the moon and then away from it again.

I looked back at Lochlen. When his gaze met mine, I knew he’d seen it as well.

“That wasn’t a dragon,” I said.

Lochlen shook his head.

I walked faster, my feet pounding on the stone walkways beyond.

“Wyvers!”
the trees yelled suddenly.

My heart filled with ice, my gaze frantic as I searched for Maeve, Daegan, Lochlen, and Cadeyrn.

“Wyvers!” I yelled.

Lochlen heard me and went running, using magic I’d never seen him use before to speed through the crowd toward the training field beyond. Weapons. We needed weapons, and he knew it.

Maeve and Daegan joined me just as Madden and Ryon did. The guards’ faces were red, their eyes flashing with anger.

“Wyvers!” I told them.

My yell was loud, hysterical even, but I’d seen the creature in the sky, and I had heard the trees.

“Oran!” I screamed.

I had no idea if the wolf heard me, but I wasn’t leaving him above stairs in the chaos.

“Wyvers!” I yelled again.

Noblemen and women stared up into the sky, many of them clutching their throats as they backed toward the palace.

They weren’t moving fast enough.

Madden and Ryon had pulled their swords, the tips going to my back. I didn’t fight them, but I did beg them with my eyes.

“The wyvers wouldn’t leave the desert,” Madden said.

I shook my head. I knew what I saw.

“Lower your weapons,” Cadeyrn’s voice commanded, and I watched as he stalked into the courtyard. His eyes were on the sky as he pulled off his coat and dropped it to the ground, holding his sword to his side.

 
“There are wyvers here,” I told him.

His gaze moved to mine before going to the sky. I knew he would believe me, his ability to discern lie from truth making it easy to persuade him.

Lochlen returned then, two swords in his hands, a bow and quiver on his back. Noblewomen screamed when they saw him, turning to rush into the ballroom, their faces white with terror.

“What madness is this?” Gabriella screamed, her voice livid. “She’s ruining the ball!”

“There are four of them, Phoenix,”
the trees said.

I took the bow from Lochlen, slinging the quiver on my back before pulling an arrow.

“There’s four of them,” I told Cadeyrn.

He nodded and moved to my back, far enough from me he didn’t impede my ability to grab arrows.

“Gather the men!” Cadeyrn ordered.

I could hear the king’s voice, but Cadeyrn’s booming yell overwhelmed his.

“Get everyone inside now!” the prince commanded.

My sense of urgency rose even as Cadeyrn’s warrior’s obeyed his orders. The women were moving too slow, the men too desperate to get a look at the sky to get inside quick enough.

In the end, we were too late.