Page 39 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain

Expecting him to tell me he’s never met her before, to try and sell me the same lie he told me when I asked him about our own history together, he surprises me with the truth.

“Yes. I do. Or more, I used to. I used to know your useless father, too.”

The admission is like a kick to the chest.

Strangely, I haven’t given much thought to who either of my parents could be, despite Locane insinuating that I may come from nobility. Despite my memory with Nana suggesting that my mother is gone.

My temples throb and a drop of blood escapes my nose. I wipe it away hurriedly with the back of my hand.

Sitting up straight, my pillow flops to the floor as I uncurl my legs from my relaxed position. I place my feet on the floor, palms gripping each knee tight. “How?”

Locane’s demeanor exudes apprehension. That air of guilt that he’s been letting slip through more and more briefly flashes in his dark eyes.

“Her and my mother were friends. I spent my youth between Quinndohs and Brhadir. I saw your Nana often during my time in Brhadir as a boy. I have not seen or spoken to her, or your father, in many years, Ellya.”

My mouth drops in shock at the revelation. I jump to my feet, unable to sit still as my mind sluggishly drifts back towards the weight of previous conversations with Locane and all the things he might have said without saying them.

“Were you ever going to tell me if I hadn’t asked? That is a big thing to only just now be telling me. And especially after I told you all I knew about my training with her, with my staff? About her training in Bokhaii herself. And you, you… Fucking you!” My tone turns frantic as I recall that conversation, pointing a finger accusingly at him.

He knew. Locane knew the whole time.

“You already knew! Didn’t you? And made insinuations about who I might be, based on the cost to hire a foreign staff master. They weren’t insinuations. You knew!” My feet pace while I tear at my hair like a mad woman—feeling like a mad woman.

The scope of his lies and half-truths come into sharp focus, making a tight ache deep within my belly burn and flow through my body. Something I’m becoming all too familiar with around him.

“Tell me fully, what you have compelled me to do, and why.”

Locane moves forward on the couch to stand but thinks better of it, instead lifting his hands to rub both temples with his pointer and middle fingers. He seems even more ill than he did moments ago when I studied him, now a drastic difference to how he looked after dinner.

His rapidly declining appearance gives me a sudden, sharp stab of alarm.

I’m about to ask him if he’s okay when my senses come back to me. I shake the sudden wave of worry and complacency from myhead and glare at him, no longer pacing. Facing him fully, my arms hanging loosely at my sides. “Are you going to say anything?”

Locane’s eyes are vacant, devoid of any emotion. “Yes. I knew. I know who your family is—who you are. There is a lot to tell, but your father isn’t even worth mentioning. He willingly shipped you off to be raised by his mother, who did everything she could to hold you back.”

My head pounds and more blood drips from my nose. My heart constricts, and I fight the roiling in my stomach, trying to stay focused. “Why am I here? You haven’t even told me what you want from me.”

Locane stands abruptly rounding the coffee table to stand in front of me.“You’re not ready to accept the truth, accept your greatness. You’re not ready to know what you can do. I’m starting to wonder if you ever will be.”

Hurt swells in my chest and pulsates through my veins, mixing with ever increasing burning rage radiating down to my toes. I pull my arm back ready to land a punch to his jaw. Before my fist can connect, Locane catches me by the wrist and swiftly spins me, my back flush with his front. He curls his other arm around me, pinning my other arm to my chest—trapping me against him.

“Let me go!” I yell.

“Never,” he grits through clenched teeth, his hot breath tickling the shell of my ear.

“Let. Me. Go,” I huff on ragged, angry breaths.

Locane’s grip tightens. He exhales slowly, blowing a small tendril of hair falling loose around my face. “Let’s not fight, Ellya. You get under my skin just as much as I do you.” My response is a kick to his knee. His weight barely shifts with the connection, and heholds me tighter still. “Don’t think the fire you put in me is any different from yours.”

He releases me so swiftly my feet falter, and I stumble forward on the unexpected weight. Steadying my balance, I see that he has already made it more than halfway down the hall.

“Where are you going?” My scream carries after him.

“I have to go pull a fucking tooth,” Locane yells back over his shoulder.

“But we are in the middle of a conversation!” I’m chasing after him, determined to not let his deflection tactics work this time. I catch up to him just as he’s lifting a foot to climb up the ornate staircase. Grabbing his wrist, I tug hard enough to convey that I’m not relenting.

Locane turns to me with irritation. “Ask a question. I’ll give you an honest answer.” He watches me expectantly, impatiently.