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CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

I don’t even get to finish the fancy sandwiches the steward sent up before the queen’s summons comes. What is it with royalty and their habit of interrupting my meals?

At least I got to bathe, though, and the steward thoughtfully found me some clean clothes to wear. Somehow, none of us considered that I might need to change clothes at some point, so I didn’t bring any. An oversight, for sure.

The page who was sent to fetch me leads me to my mother’s apartments, which is interesting. Does the queen not want anyone to know she’s meeting with me? Or is this just her way of keeping things unofficial?

The page scratches at the door, then opens it and leans inside. A moment later, he stands back and motions for me to enter. As soon as I do, the door closes behind me.

My mother rises from where she was sitting beside the queen on a plush sofa. It’s been some time since I visited her here, but I’d swear the décor was different last time.

“Talon,” she says, and her usually melodic voice is strained. Now that I think of it, her face is rather set, and her eyes are a little puffy. She extends her hands toward me, and I cross the room to take them and kiss her cheek.

“Mother. How are yooooo—” The word becomes strangled as she throws herself against me, her arms wrapping around my neck as she sobs into my shoulder. Shocked, I meet the queen’s gaze over her downturned head.

“Your mother grieves Tavia most deeply,” she says quietly. “She fears for you also.”

I’m speechless. It’s not that I thought Mother wouldn’t grieve for Tia—I’ve always known she loves us in her distant, let-nanny-do-the-parenting way. While my father has always been an unloving ass, Mother is just… busy. I’m not certain she truly wanted children to begin with, but it’s not that she was ever unkind. I just didn’t expect this flood of emotion.

Awkwardly, I pat her back. “Thank you for seeing me, Your Majesty,” I say to the queen. My court manners might be rusty and dirty and not all that good to begin with, but even I know it’s inexcusable to be in a room with a monarch and not acknowledge them.

Queen Nyana tilts her head in a regal nod. She hasn’t changed much since the last time I saw her—a few more lines around her eyes, maybe, and the golden blond of her hair is nearly all silver now. “I regret that it’s under such vile circumstances, Lord Talon.”

I automatically open my mouth to say, “Just Talon,” but then catch myself. One doesn’t correct a queen over something so minor as what she calls one. Especially when she’s not wrong. “So do I, ma’am.” I hesitate. “I suppose I should apologize on behalf of the family for my father and uncle and assure you that I had no part in it.”

To my surprise, she chuckles. “I’ve heard enough stories about your relationship with your father to know you wouldn’t have part in anything he did, no matter what it was. Besides, you forget that I’m privy to where you’ve been and why.”

Before I can reply, my mother lets out a fresh sob, and I wince.

“I gather Mother knows also?”

The queen shrugs, and it’s the third occupant of the room, the man sitting in an armchair, who replies. “Lady Silverbright is one of the queen’s closest advisors. We deemed it prudent to ensure she was aware of all the facts.”

I give Master Kathion a nod. I don’t know him well enough to have an opinion on him—he’s lived here at court my whole life, and the brief occasions we’ve met before were when I was too young to be intelligent. Talk at the academy paints him as a decent mage but mostly a political creature—there was never any doubt when he was there that he’d be going after a position as a court mage once he achieved mastery. But he’s been dedicated to serving Queen Nyana for more years than I’ve been alive, and rumor has it that he’s the one who introduced Mother to her. I wouldn’t say I’m ready to welcome him into the inner circle, but I can cautiously trust him.

I hope.

Of course, that’s all irrelevant if I can’t get Mother to stop crying long enough for us all to talk.

Bending my head to hers, I murmur, “Come now, it’s okay.”

She sucks in a jagged breath and looks up at me, her blue eyes wet and miserable. Tia and I got her coloring, but otherwise, we look more like our father’s family. Unfortunately for us. Mother is a noted beauty, and every spring, when young debutantes and courtiers flood into Harfarin, a whole new lot of poems and songs are written about her, even now that she’s older. Father is… not a beauty of any kind.

“She’s gone, Talon. How can she be gone? How do you bear it?”

I clench my teeth against the hot tears that rush to my eyes. The last thing this situation needs is both of us bawling. “I—” I stop and clear my throat, then look her squarely in the eye. “I bear it because she was dedicated to this mission, and I won’t disgrace her by giving up. I bear it because there is vengeance in my heart, and I will mete it out against those who are responsible for her death.” I take a breath. “I bear it because I have to, Mother. Because the alternative is to give up, to curl into a ball and wait for death to take me, and she would hate me for that. She would hate me for wasting the life she didn’t get to live.”

Her lower lip trembles. “It hurts, though. I-I wish I had been a better mother to her. I wish she’d known how I truly did l-l-l—” Her face contorts with another sob.

“It hurts,” I agree. “It guts me, and I can see it does you too. Tia knew you loved her, Mother. We both do.”

Her gaze searches my face, and finally, she nods. “You’ll avenge her?”

I’m surprised by the vicious intensity in her voice, but it makes me smile. “I have her dagger, and I’m going to use it on whoever is behind all this.”

Disentangling herself from my hold, she pats my chest. “Then I can leave it in your hands. You always were as stubborn as a rock.”

So much for our mother-son bonding moment.

As she reseats herself on the sofa and the queen takes her hand, Kathion clears his throat. “Your implication seems to be that you don’t believe your father and uncle are responsible for this.”

I turn to look at him. “They absolutely are responsible, and I’m confident my queen will deal with them as they deserve. But I don’t believe they are solely responsible, or even in charge. My uncle isn’t motivated or skilled enough to learn this kind of magic on his own.”

“He’s as thick and lazy as a whole stack of bricks,” Mother says bluntly. “But he’s mean and greedy, and if someone came to him with promises of power and wealth and showed him what to do, he’d leap at the chance.” She grimaces. “Your father would as well.”

“Oh, I know. He did, in fact. I believe he knows more than what he’s told you.”

“So do we,” the queen says grimly. “But Kathion says I can’t torture him into talking.”

“That might work against you, ma’am,” I say as diplomatically as I can. Executing him once we prove his treason is one thing, but torturing her lover’s husband when he’s seemingly confessed to his wrongdoings would probably look bad in the eyes of the royal court. “Let me talk to him instead.”

All three of them turn doubting expressions on me. “You think he’s likely to tell you more? He knows about your mission—that alone is proof of his guilt, as he was never told by official sources,” Kathion points out. “Why do you think he’d be likely to spill secrets to the other side?”

“I don’t. But if I can get him talking, the stone will tell me what’s a lie and what we need to investigate further. I just need some hints.” I purse my lips. “I really want to know why the temples got involved in this.”

“The stone,” Kathion repeats with chagrin. “You have it with you?”

“It’s not the kind of thing I can leave lying around.” I reach into my shirt and pull out the pouch. “Would you like to see it?”

“Perhaps later,” the queen interrupts before Kathion can reply. “It might be best for you to speak with your father now, if you truly think you can learn something new. He won’t be prepared to see you, especially at this time of night.”

“That seems a wise move, Your Majesty.”

“Talon,” my mother says suddenly, “Commander Riverford said you flew here on a dragon. He was teasing, wasn’t he?”

Kathion’s brows rise. “I’m very interested to hear the answer to that myself.”

Fuck.

“He wasn’t teasing. I assume you were advised that the stone forged a temporary communication ability between me and Leicht, so he could continue to travel with us?”

“Yes,” Kathion says. “I have many questions. A mage has never been able to speak directly with a dragon.”

I snort. “I don’t know about other dragons, but if they’re like Leicht, you’re really not missing much. He’s grumpy and doesn’t like me.”

“You have grown on me somewhat,” he says, surprising me. I didn’t think he was listening. “Do not give away secrets that could endanger you. It would be a breach of treaty if I tore apart the palace to save you.”

“God magic, remember? I’m not in danger.” I don’t want to test that, though, so I choose my next words carefully. “Leicht was deeply angered by what Father did. When he heard me say several days ago that I wanted to see what the stone could make of Father’s story, he offered to fly me here as a one-off, times-of-crisis solution.” I grimace. “Learning to fly on a dragon is not fun. There’s a lot of falling, and dragons aren’t gentle when they catch you.”

Mother pulls a face. “You never did like physical exertion.”

The cell my father is being held in is one designed for nobles who’ve done bad things. From what the queen said before I left Mother’s apartment, she feels that treason and zombies warrant one of the nastier cells where hardened criminals are sent, and I have to agree with her. Kathion, however, was the voice of reason who pointed out that we can’t afford for the other nobles to begin wondering what, exactly, my father did to warrant such harsh treatment—not until the zombies are vanquished. So Father gets a cushy cell that resembles a guest room more than anything else.

“I’ll wait out here,” Kathion says quietly as we approach. “I doubt he’ll speak as freely if I’m with you. The guards will come if you shout, but I presume you can handle a single unTalented man?”

My derisive glance is just this side of disrespectful. “Yes. He won’t get near enough to me to be a threat, and even if he does, I can manage.”

A smile tugs at the right side of his lips. “They told me you had a smart mouth.”

Turds. “I?—”

He waves me off. “I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve earned the right to some sarcasm. Find the champion and save the world, and you’ll earn the right to a whole lot more.”

I said something similar to Jaimin not that long ago, but for some reason, hearing it from someone else rubs me the wrong way. “I’m not doing this for what I can get out of it.”

He studies me for a moment, then shakes his head. “No. I don’t think you are. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t demand your due once it’s done. For your mother’s sake, if nothing else. When the truth about what your father’s done comes out, she’s going to face a great deal of backlash, and not even Queen Nyana will be able to fully protect her, no matter what she believes. You being the one to clean up your father’s mess will defuse the situation.”

I hold in my groan. I love my mother, and I don’t want her to pay for crimes she didn’t commit, but it seems as though the list of things I need to do and people I need to look after is getting longer and longer. All I want is to hide in Jaimin’s rooms with him, a giant bed, and a mammoth bathtub. Is that truly too much to ask?

Out loud, I say, “I’m glad she has people looking out for her.”

Kathion recognizes that for the conversation-ender I intended it to be and nods. “Don’t be delicate if you need to ask me a question while you’re in there. I’ll be ready for telepathic contact.”

“Thank you.” We part, him stopping to lean against the wall, me continuing toward the guarded door. The guards look at me, glance over my shoulder at Kathion, and then step forward.

“Are you armed, sir? We can’t permit weapons in with the prisoner.”

“I have no weapons.” Not any my father would be able to use, anyway. Talent skipped him entirely.

One of the guards unlocks the door while the other reminds me that I can call for them if I need assistance.

And then the door is closing behind me and I’m staring at my father’s surprised face.

He’s propped against plush pillows in bed, reading, and I take vicious satisfaction from the facts that the bed is on the smaller side and he’s never liked reading all that much. Otherwise, the luxury in the room infuriates me.

“Talon,” he says slowly, and just the sound of his voice raises the familiar urge to leave. Talking to him has never been something I enjoyed. “My son! I should have known you’d come to my aid.”

I blink stupidly at him.

“What did he say? Did he…” Leicht sounds just as befuddled as I am, and that gets my brain functioning again.

“I have no idea why you’d think that,” I say coolly, and his face crumples artfully.

Suspicion burns in my belly.

“Please don’t turn against me, Talon,” he implores. “I made a stupid, stupid mistake, and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it.”

“That last part is true,” I agree, strolling over to a cushy armchair and seating myself. I hook my ankle over my knee and lean back, hoping I look powerful and in control. It helps a little that he’s in his nightclothes. “Though I wouldn’t plan on having all that much time for the aforementioned regret.” I meet his tragic expression with a bland one.

“How can you be so unfeeling? Can’t you understand what I’m going through? I let your uncle and his friends talk me into unwise choices, and now my daughter?—”

“Do not,” I interrupt, “talk about my sister. Don’t even say her name, or you won’t need to worry about any trial or execution. I’ll gut you right here myself and laugh while I do it.”

I must be suitably convincing, because he closes his mouth. Not for long, though.

“I’m grieving too. It was never supposed to happen.”

“You killed her,” I say flatly, “just as much as if you’d shot the arrow yourself. It was never supposed to happen? What did you think would happen when the zombies came after us? Were you there when that order was given? Did you stop to consider that zombies sent to kill us might actually kill us?”

I watch his face closely, and sure enough, there’s a tiny flinch. He’s every bit as complicit as I thought he was, but this time he keeps his mouth shut.

The silence rides for long moments before I sigh. “You’re going to be executed, and there isn’t any way around it. If somehow the queen isn’t able to manage it, I’ll come back here and take you to the City of Knowledge myself, where you can face the dragons. They’re out for blood.”

“Does it give you pleasure to tell your father he’s going to die?” he asks, and it seems that he’s still playing for sympathy.

“No. I’m just making it clear that no matter what happens next, you will die. I’ll make sure Uncle Domys does, too—and his temple friends. It’s the least they deserve. But you and I both know that no matter what you’ve told everyone else, your brother isn’t capable of learning complex magic on his own. He wouldn’t even have known where to start looking for the spells—or thought his way through the best way to use them. Tell me who else is involved.”

“There’s nobody else,” he declares, but his eye twitches. He’s never been a good liar, which is ironic because he lies all the time.

I shrug. “Have it your way. I’ll find them eventually, anyway. It’s hard to hide that kind of magic at the academy for long.” That’s not exactly true, but he won’t know that, and I’m fishing. There is a chance the mage behind this is someone living away from the City of Knowledge, but I don’t think so. It would be much harder to do the research that would have been needed, and someone in the academies has definitely been feeding information to the other side.

Father’s eye twitches again, confirming my assumption, and I push it further.

“It’ll be easy enough to see who’s traveled this way in recent years,” I muse. “It’s not like Uncle Domys would have befriended that many people when he was at the academy.”

His eye twitches for a third time, and I make a mental note to have Master look for the class lists from when my uncle was a student. This also means we can rule out everyone younger than he is, which is helpful.

“They’re not friends,” Father mutters sullenly, and while I manage to hold in my cheer, Leicht’s roar of victory is so loud that we can hear it clearly through the thick stone walls. Father’s eyes widen.

“The dragons must be restless,” I say casually, as though I didn’t just threaten him with dragon justice a minute ago. “Not friends, huh? Are you sure they’re not fooling you about that? This is a pretty dangerous scheme to trust to someone who’s not a friend.”

Father snorts. “You’ve met your uncle’s friends. None of them have the brains for anything like this. Besides, Domys is ten years younger than—” He stops, but I don’t care. That’s enough information for me to get started with.

I stand and stretch. “Well, I’m glad we had this time together. I was worried that some part of me might regret that we never had a better relationship, but…” I shrug. “You’re not the kind of person I could ever want to have a good relationship with.” I make for the door.

“Don’t you want to know why I did it?”

The words stop me short, and I turn to face him. He’s dropped all pretense of remorse—the sorrow gone from his face, and his lips twisted in a sneer.

“I already know. You’re greedy and power-hungry, a bitter, miserable man with no morals.”

“No morals! I have more morals than your bitch queen! What kind of person buys a husband for her lover so she can control him?”

Leicht’s incredulity echoes through my mind. “Does he really not hear himself?”

“He has no self-awareness.”

“What kind of person sells himself in the hope of gaining power?” I counter. If he was hoping to shock me with the revelation that the queen found Mother a convenient husband so they could be together without complications, I hope he’s disappointed. I’ve known for years—Tia and I listened to the servants gossiping about it before we were even old enough to know what a lover was. “What kind of person makes an agreement, takes money for it, and then plots to betray his own word?”

His mouth works, but no sounds emerge. I wait another moment before turning away to knock for the guards to open the door.

“Good luck with the gods’ justice, Father.”