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CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

“Wait… I… What?” Arimen blinks at us in bewilderment. It’s after dinner and we’re crammed into the room Jaimin and I share. Arimen’s been processing the news the stone revealed to us for the past ten minutes.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I know this is a big shock. For me too.”

“It’s kind of a relief,” Coryn says placidly. “Now at least we know where to go. And we like you. I was worried that we’d find the champion and they wouldn’t be a very nice person.” He turns to Peiris. “Some people with lots of power are mean.”

“Oh, I know.” Peiris nods vehemently. “Very mean.”

Since the whole day has been one upheaval after the next, I decide to add another one to the list. It will give Arimen time to finish spluttering, anyway. “Peiris, is there something you’d like to tell us?”

They freeze. “Uh…”

“Perhaps about your family,” I suggest. I might be wrong with that guess, but there’s definitely something .

Peiris glances away, then smiles weakly. “How did you know?” They check. “I forgot—you’re a god. But you said you don’t have your powers?”

“I don’t.” I shrug. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m a teacher, and my students often try to keep secrets.” Usually that they’ve been experimenting with things they shouldn’t be. “It’s made me good at reading people.” Sometimes.

They sigh. “It’s not a secret—I was just enjoying the anonymity. People are often different when they know the truth.”

Oh, I’m so going to regret having asked, aren’t I? I slide a sideways glance at Jaimin, wordlessly begging for help, but it’s too late.

“I’m the fifth child of the Imperial Pair.”

Yep. Regret, meet me. Visions rise of what will happen to me if I somehow manage to get a child of the Imperial Pair killed. “Oh. That’s… fine.”

Jaimin’s elbow connects with my ribs. “What he means is, that’s not important to us, Peiris. You’ve been selected by prophecy and fate to be here, and that’s all that matters. You’re the right person for this job, regardless of who your parents are.”

I nod. “Yes. That. What he said.” And also, do they want to stay here in this nice, out-of-the-way inn? Where they’re unlikely to encounter zombies and die, spurring an intercontinental war?

Peiris’s smile is much more genuine now. “Thank you.”

Half raising his hand, Coryn says, “I don’t understand. The imperial pair of what?”

At the same time, Arimen asks, “If Talon is Wasianth, does that mean I should be telling my prayers directly to him?”

For a long moment, I look at them both. Their faces are earnest—neither is joking. “I might need another tankard of ale,” I tell Jaimin, and he wordlessly rises to get it. Lucky him, getting to leave. I turn to Arimen first. “Do not tell me your prayers. Whatever you’ve been doing your whole life, keep doing. If that changes, I’ll let you know.” It’s not going to change. Not unless my personality does.

Next, I brace myself and tackle Coryn’s question. Peiris is biting their lip, apprehension back, and I need to fix that if our team is going to be able to work together. “You know how Peiris is from the Baswich Empire?” I begin, and he nods.

“Yes! It’s all the way across the ocean.” He squints. “Does the sun rise on the other side of the world there? Because I have this theory?—”

“No,” I interrupt. I’ve heard that theory, and I’m not arguing with him about it. “The sun rises in the east in the Baswich Empire.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway, there are always two rulers in the empire. Peiris, correct me if I get this wrong. They don’t have to be married, but if they’re not, they usually have some kind of blood tie—siblings or cousins.”

Peiris nods.

“Great. So, the rulers are known as the Imperial Pair, and they’re the ultimate authority?—”

“Like my king?”

If I remember my second-year classes correctly, the empire actually has a parliament of sorts that governs day-to-day matters, but I’m not going to explain all of that to Coryn right now. “Something like that. The current Pair is a married couple, and Peiris is their child.”

Coryn blinks, then turns big brown eyes to Peiris. “Ohhhh, so you’re a princeps? I didn’t know. Is that why you’re so pretty?”

A tide of pink washes up Peiris’s face. “Yes. Um. No. I mean… What?”

“It’s okay,” Coryn assures them. “I’m not trying to have sex with you or anything. I don’t really like sex. But I think we should be able to tell our friends when we think they’re pretty. Everyone likes to hear nice things, right? I also think you have excellent sword skills, and I hope you’ll spar with me.”

He seems to have this under control, so I accept my fresh drink from Jaimin and sit back to watch. I deserve this—my whole life is being turned upside-down.

“I’ll spar with you,” Peiris says faintly. “Um. I think you have the most beautiful hair I’ve ever seen. Your hair and your heart are like sunshine. And… um. I don’t like sex either.”

“Do you like hugs?” Coryn asks hopefully, and Peiris nods.

“Yes. I like hugs from my friends.”

Coryn’s beaming smile makes me think all might be right in the world after all. “That’s good! Because we’re friends now, aren’t we? So we can give each other hugs and compliments.” He screws up his face. “Unless I’m not supposed to because you’re a princeps. I know the rules are different for royalty sometimes.”

“You’re supposed to because I said so,” Peiris insists, showing some of their royal upbringing, and the two of them grin at each other.

“I still don’t understand how Talon can be Wasianth if he isn’t Wasianth,” Arimen says plaintively, and I chug from my tankard as Jaimin patiently explains it all again. Arimen doesn’t look more convinced when he’s done, but he seems to accept it.

“So… what happens now?”

Jaimin shoots me a sympathetic glance. He’s heard me—and Tia—talk enough about our parents to know I’m not excited about this next step. “We’ll set sail as soon as possible for Talon’s family home in Rebithia. That’s the birthplace mentioned in the Baswich prophecies. Along the way, we’ll keep searching for any information that will help us reconnect Talon with his awareness as Wasianth.”

“What happens if we get to Rebithia before we find what we need?” Arimen wants to know.

I blow out a breath. “We wait. Hopefully just being back where I was born will jog some element of awareness, now that I know who—what—I am.” The truth is, we have no idea what we’re doing or how to do it. “My master has already begun that research, and Leicht is asking the dragons if they know anything.” He doesn’t think they do, but we’re not willing to leave any avenue unexplored. Which reminds me… “Peiris and Arimen, I need you to consider what you know about the godsborn and Wasianth and write down anything that might be helpful.”

Arimen’s face lights up. “I can do that! Do you think the innkeeper has paper?”

Jaimin silently passes over the blank journal the innkeeper gave us earlier, along with a charcoal pencil. Arimen holds them to his chest as though they’re more valuable than the finest riches.

“I have paper of my own,” Peiris volunteers, eying Arimen with an indulgent smile. “I don’t know if you can read Baswegian, but I also have copies of the relevant section of the prophecies, if you’d like those.”

“Yes,” Jaimin and I say at the same time. Not that I read Baswegian or anything.

“Please,” Jaimin adds. “My Baswegian isn’t wonderful, but I’d still like to see them. Perhaps our perspective will reveal something relevant to Talon.”

They nod. “That’s what I was thinking. I can help with any words that cause problems. After all, I don’t know him as well as you do.” They pause. “My knowledge of geography in this part of the world isn’t very good, but I believe Rebithia is some distance from here?”

“Faster by sea than overland, even with having to sail downriver in the opposite direction first,” I say. “But yeah, it’s not close. It will take us at least three weeks to get there— probably four.” At least by then, it will be spring even that far north.

“In that case, when we get to the river mouth, we may want to consider buying a larger ship. The horses won’t be comfortable on the deck for that long, and our space for provisions is limited. The time we lose in searching for something will more than be made up with the need for fewer stops.”

Jaimin shakes his head before I have the chance to eagerly agree. “I’m not sure. Aside from the need to fund that kind of purchase, a bigger ship means a crew. The ‘solution’ becomes very complicated at that point. We might be able to buy passage aboard a ship heading in that direction, though.”

I can tell Peiris doesn’t like the idea, which fits with the whole royalty scenario. Personally, I’m not fond of the thought of strangers in my space while we’re on this mission, so I don’t like either scenario. “Let’s wait until we get to a seaport,” I prevaricate. “Maybe another idea will come to us before then.”

“Talon,” Arimen says suddenly, “is Sweetie really Frestin?”

In the middle of our first night aboard ship headed downriver, I’m woken by Leicht’s agitation. Sitting up abruptly, still half-asleep, I reach out to him. “What’s wrong?”

“Talon?” Jaimin asks sleepily, and I shush him, tapping my temple so he’ll know I’m speaking to someone. He closes his eyes, but I can tell he’s still awake.

“News from Harfarin,” he says curtly. “A dragon and rider stopped there to check in with the queen, and they report that your father arrived less than an hour ago.”

My father ? In Harfarin at this time of year, with the estate about to begin spring planting and things unsettled across the continent? He would never—he thinks things would fall apart without him there to oversee them. “You mean my mother,” I guess. She’s a favorite of the queen and spends most of the year at court.

“No, your mother was already there. Your father rode in well after dark, as though monsters were chasing him. He had one man with him, no luggage, and burst into the poetry reading the queen was hosting to confess his sins and demand aid.”

Fear races through me, and I rub the sleep from my eyes. “Zombies attacked the estate?” Oh gods, the staff. Mrs. Hickings, the housekeeper, would need to be dragged away kicking and screaming—she’d never evacuate.

“No. Worse.”

Worse? How… I try to concentrate on what he actually said, and a knot begins to form in my chest. “Tell me the rest. What sins? Aid for what?”

“He claimed to have been overcome by grief since he got word about Tia, and now can no longer live with the guilt.”

The knot grows exponentially larger. No. No, no, no.

Master’s telepathic knock goes ignored. I suspect I know what he’s going to tell me, anyway.

“He says there’s an army of zombies at the estate under the command of your uncle and a high priest.”

“Jaimin, wake up,” I say grimly, then ask Leicht, “Uncle Domys?” I don’t know why I bother; I only have one uncle. A mage uncle who never amounted to anything in any area of life.

“What’s happened?” Jaimin asks, sitting up and reaching over to light the candle. I stay his hand and flick a mage light into being instead.

“Yes.”

Master knocks again, and I grit my teeth. “I need to talk to Master and Jaimin. Get as much detail as you can.”

Leicht doesn’t reply in words, just with a sense of acknowledgment. “Zombies at my family estate,” I tell Jaimin, and then before horror can fully form on his face, I add, “By invitation. Hold on a moment.”

“Master? Leicht has just given me some interesting news.”

“I thought that might be the reason for your delay. I’m so sorry, Talon. Kathion—he’s the court mage in Rebithia. Did you ever meet him?”

“Once or twice.” When I was too young for him to bother about, and definitely before my Talent began to make itself properly known.

“He was there when your father burst in. As soon as he heard the word ‘zombie,’ he and the dragon rider removed him from the room and questioned him.”

Well, that’s something, at least. Hopefully everyone else who was there thinks my father’s just losing his mind.

“Leicht said Uncle Domys and a high priest are in command of the zombies. How did that happen?”

Master’s mental demeanor is grim. “If I understand the situation properly, your uncle is one of the necromancers. He approached your father two years back with a plan to gather more power within Rebithia, perhaps even seize the throne.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “An idea my dear father no doubt jumped on.” Damn him. He’s always hated that all his influence at court comes from my mother; always resented the queen for not recognizing his value—such as it is. It doesn’t surprise me that he’d consider stealing the throne; not really. Tia and I even had a debate about it once. She didn’t think he’d go so far as treason, whereas I am far more cynical and declared that the only thing holding him back was the threat of dragons coming to settle the revolution.

But not even I thought he’d go as far as zombies.

As for Uncle Domys… I am surprised by his involvement. Not because of the whole treason thing, or even the zombies, if I’m being honest. He’s not the most moral of people. No, what surprises me is that he managed to apply himself to learning necromancy for long enough to be able to actually raise zombies. He’s never been known for working hard, and he left the academy as soon as he passed his first year, preferring to live off the allowance the estate allots to him than to actually learn to use his magic in any meaningful way.

“Who taught Uncle Domys how to raise zombies?” I ask as Jaimin gets out of bed and goes to the washstand to splash water on his face. “He wouldn’t have learned anything about them in his first year at the academy, and he’s not the kind of person who spends all his time reading old tales and prophecies… or practicing magic.”

Master considers that. “An excellent point. The priests couldn’t have taught him; they don’t have Talent. Could he have taught himself if they did the research?”

“Hardly. Trust me, my uncle isn’t that motivated.” I’d say I take after him in that area, but the difference between us is that I am motivated to learn about things that interest me. I also have morals, which he does not.

“I’ll keep that in mind. Anyway, your father didn’t hesitate to get involved, although the way he tells it, he was reluctant and felt pressured by his brother. Kathion said he hinted at coercion, though nobody really believed that.”

I don’t either.

“His involvement mainly seems to have been hiding an army of zombies on his estate and providing occasional funds for Domys and his cadre of priests.”

My gag reflex kicks in, and I clap a hand over my mouth as Jaimin hurries over to lay a hand on my back. The nausea instantly recedes, but the feelings that caused it remain. There are zombies at my childhood home? In the fields Tia and I explored as children? I could never be glad my sister is dead, but I’m grateful she was spared this knowledge. It would have hurt her so badly. “The staff? And the workers? Are they safe?”

“I don’t know. I’ll ask Kathion to find out. Is your father the kind who’d allow…”

“He’s too fond of his comforts to allow himself to be inconvenienced,” I say bitterly. “For that reason alone, I don’t believe he’d deliberately allow the staff to be harmed.” But surrounded by zombies, the risk of accidents is very real.

“I’ll have Kathion find out,” Master promises.

Something tickles at the back of my mind. “Master, tell me about these priests. Are they renegades?”

“Not according to your father. He claims that the convocation of temples supports their efforts.”

I hang endlessly in the pause between seconds, trapped by time itself as I struggle to process his words. The convocation supports this. The same convocation that declared me outcast and killed my sister.

My father and uncle have been working with the people who murdered Tia.

Leicht’s earlier comments about grief, sins, and guilt flood back to me. My father has been harboring zombies. He’s betrayed his queen, his country, and the rest of the continent. By association, he’s guilty of Tia’s death. And now, weeks later, he claims to be so overcome by remorse that he raced to Harfarin to confess?

“Tell Kathion not to believe my father’s sudden change of heart. Whatever prompted him to go to court, it’s self-centered.” My chest feels tight. This… this would have killed Tia. She still believed, deep down, that Father isn’t a bad person.

“Kathion knows your father well,” Master advises. “He’s already questioning him again, and the dragon rider has gone to do reconnaissance over the estate.” He hesitates. “I’ll update you as things progress, but Talon… this changes everything. We thought the secret to unlocking your godhood was at your home. If it’s overrun by zombies, the chances of you being able to find it are slim.”

I swallow, trying to keep my demeanor calm. “I know, but I need to go there anyway, especially now. There’s time to consider options—we won’t even reach the mouth of the river for another two days. Unless… Do you think I should take Leicht and fly ? —”

~No~

“No!” Master echoes the stone. “Not until you’ve regained your godhood, at least. Leaving your companions behind while you’re still so vulnerable would be a mistake.”

My head spins with exhaustion and new information. “Then it will be weeks before I get there.”

“We may be able to trim a few days off the trip, at least. What does the stone think of me commandeering a naval ship for you?”

I blink, but before I can ask, the stone gives its opinion.

~Yes~

“It agrees, but Master ? —”

“There’s a navy yard at Trijmbin. I’ll reach out to the court mage in Camblin tonight and make the arrangements for you to meet them there. It will be a faster journey, and you’ll have trained fighters with you, at least.”

“I need to tell Jaimin what’s happened” is all I say. I don’t even know how to respond. It was one thing to request an escort for a short time in Lenle, but to borrow a whole naval ship and crew for weeks, if not months?

On the other hand, if I am a god, that gives things a new perspective.

Master promises to check in at dawn, then cuts the connection between us. I can sense that Leicht is busy talking to other dragons, so I turn to Jaimin, who’s back in the bed with me, his concerned gaze fixed on my face.

“Tell me,” he says, and I do. Then he folds me in his arms and holds me as I weep.