The Truth
THE TRUTH
T abian took the feather and apple straight to Father so he could relate all that had happened. He was surprised when Father took one look at the golden feather and insisted the two of them meet privately in his chambers. What was it about seeing the feather that had jolted Father so?
Father sat down in the chair behind his desk and bade Tabian to sit down in one of the two chairs facing the desk. Tabian did so, sinking too low for comfort into the cushion. Having Father’s chair sit higher than the ones for guests was most likely intentional—a subtle reminder that the King was always on a higher plane than his subjects.
Tabian scooted forward, trying to sit up straight as his gaze swept over the plush furnishings that gave the feel of both opulence and coziness. A large, detailed tapestry took up one wall, and there were bookshelves filled with handsomely bound books on two other walls. Crimson velvet drapes dripping with gold fringe adorned the only window, which had a pristine view of the enchanted tree. This was the first time Tabian had ever been allowed to enter this room. He felt like he was intruding on Father’s secret personal space.
“Tell me everything that happened.” Father eyed the golden apple and feather resting on his desk with a restless energy.
“I will.” He looked Father in the eye. “But first, I need your word that you’ll release Garrin. After what I relate, it will be very apparent that he’s innocent.”
The muscles in Father’s jaw tightened. He leaned forward and punched his index finger into the table with his every word. “Need I remind you that I am the King? You do not get to make demands of me.”
Tabian’s instinct was to cower under Father’s steely authority, but the time for that had passed. There was too much at stake. Instead, he held Father’s scathing gaze. “Do you want to hear what happened or not? I need your word that you will drop the charges against Garrin and release him.”
An edge seeped into Father’s voice. “You do not dictate the terms of this discussion.”
“You and I both know that Garrin is innocent.”
Fury masked Father’s features. “Garrin is many things, but innocent is not one of them. His is a heinous crime for which there can be no forgiveness,” he said hotly.
“I know about the enchantress who helped my mother get pregnant.”
Shock paled Father’s features, and then his face turned an ugly red. “Did Garrin tell you this?”
“Nay, ‘twas not Garrin.”
“Then it was Elda.”
Tabian lifted his chin. “You have no right to punish Garrin. He only sought to help my mother.”
“Enough,” Father fumed, but Tabian continued, his voice unwavering.
“My mother went into the pregnancy knowing the risk. She chose to give her life for mine, and you hate me for it.”
Tears bubbled in Father’s eyes. “I told her not to get pregnant,” he uttered hoarsely. He balled his fist and placed it over his mouth. His throat bobbed up and down. After he regained control of himself, he lowered his hand. “She wouldn’t listen to me.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He meant that to his core. “I’m sorry that my birth caused her death and brought you so much pain. I have to live every day of my life with that terrible knowledge.” The truth was a painful wound bleeding out between them, never to be healed.
Father swallowed noisily. “Me too.”
“Executing Garrin won’t bring Mother back.”
Resentment burned in his eyes. “He must pay.”
“He has paid,” Tabian growled. “Garrin loved my mother like she was his own daughter. Elda loved her, too. Why do you think they took me in? It was because I reminded them of her. If you have a sliver of compassion remaining, you will drop this vendetta.” His voice rose. “Destroying Garrin’s life will never bring you peace. My mother loved Garrin. She would be appalled if she knew the course you were taking. If you truly loved her as you claim, then you would not stain her memory with this cruelty.”
“You didn’t know your mother,” he hissed. “How could you possibly know how she would react in this situation?”
Tabian squared his jaw. “I know she was a good person. She would not have wanted Garrin to suffer on account of her.”
Father opened his mouth and then closed it again. A veil slipped over his eyes as if he were retreating into himself. “Enough of this. Tell me about the gold feather.”
Tabian sat back in his seat and folded his arms over his chest. He and Father eyed one another in a silent challenge.
Sparks shot from Father’s eyes. “Maybe I should sentence you to the dungeon—give you some time to reconsider your insolent behavior.”
Tabian grunted. “Is that what you do to anyone who tries to talk some sense into you?”
Father bunched his brows. “Where is this defiance coming from? Did you just wake up one morning and decide it was time to finally develop a voice?”
Was that a trace of admiration Tabian detected in Father’s tone? All this time, he’d tried to stay out of the way, hoping that Father and his brothers would somehow recognize his value … when he should’ve been fighting them at every turn. Maybe then they would respect him.
“Someone has to stand up for what’s right,” Tabian fired back, feeling a rush of newfound confidence. It swelled inside him, expanding his possibilities.
Father pushed out a long breath and then flicked his hand like he was brushing away a pesky fly. “Very well. If I’m satisfied with your report, then I’ll consider releasing Garrin.”
“That’s not good enough. I want your word that?—”
“Silence,” Father growled. “That’s the best offer you’re going to get.” His eyes burned with the authority of one holding all the cards. “I’d advise you to take it.”
He’d pushed as hard as he could. “Fine,” Tabian acquiesced.
A peculiar eagerness lit Father’s eyes as he sat up taller in his seat. “Now, tell me about the feather.”
Tabian recounted the events from the night before, starting with the song. Then, he related his conversation with the maiden, leaving out the part where she kissed him. “I tried to grab her, but she broke away and turned to flee. I shot her with an arrow.”
Father winced. “You shot her?”
“There was no other way to stop her,” Tabian countered, feeling the need to defend himself. Why was Father acting protective of the thief who had stolen his precious apples?
He drummed his fingers on the desk. “What happened next?”
“She transformed into a golden bird and flew away with the arrow lodged in her wing. I went over to where she’d fallen and found the feather.”
Father stroked his chin, looking thoughtful. “I wonder if the bird will return.” He shook his head in wonderment. “This is …”
“What?” He leaned forward, wanting to pull the words from Father’s mouth.
Father blinked and then focused on Tabian as if just now remembering that he was in the room. Several emotions pinged over his face before it tightened into a rigid mask. “This is not enough to set Garrin free.”
Tabian’s heart dropped. “Of course it is. The thief is a maiden who uses magic to transform herself into a golden bird. Garrin is innocent. I know it, and so do you.”
“The deal was that you were supposed to catch the thief. Then Garrin would be set free.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Tabian fumed. “Why’re you being so unreasonable about this? This vendetta is beneath you, Father. You’re known for being just. This is … well, it’s pure evil.”
Father held up a hand to quiet him. “If you were to catch this golden bird … well, then I would have no other choice but to release Garrin.”
The full realization of what was happening rattled through Tabian’s brain. “You’re using Garrin as leverage so that I’ll be forced to capture the bird. Was that your plan all along? Did you somehow know about the bird?” He could tell from the guilty look on Father’s face that he was on the right track. It was Tabian’s turn to go into interrogator mode. “What do you know about the bird?” He gave Father a sharp look. “Don’t try to deny it. I noticed your excitement when you first saw the gold feather.” He twirled a hand, encompassing the room. “And then you brought me here, to your personal chamber—a place I’ve never been granted access to before.” He locked eyes with Father. “What do you know?”
Something shifted in Father’s expression. “I suppose it’s time.”
Tabian’s heart lurched. “Time for what?”
“Time to tell you a story.” He looked past Tabian as if getting lost in another time and place. “I loved your mother.” Tears misted his eyes. “She was my everything,” he said hoarsely. “When she almost died giving birth to Lucien, I forbid her from getting pregnant again.” He clipped out a chortle. “Zyrella was headstrong, determined to have her way. When she told me she was pregnant with you … well, I nearly went out of my mind. She assured me that all would be well. She told me that she’d had a dream so vivid she knew it would one day come true.”
He paused long enough for Tabian to worry that he wouldn’t tell the rest.
Finally, he continued, “Zyrella told of a time when her tree would flourish. The golden apples it yielded would give the kingdom notoriety. They would become a symbol of good fortune and wealth. But the apples were merely a precursor for what was to come.” He picked up the feather and examined it. “She spoke of a golden bird of rare beauty that would come and nest in the branches. She said that this bird would be a treasure to the kingdom—even more so than the tree. That its presence would help restore equity and balance. That it would usher in a golden age of the kingdom—a time when our family would finally be united and healed.”
Tabian made a face. “What does this story have to do with me?”
Father leveled a penetrating gaze. “You are the central figure in this story, for it is you who’s supposed to capture the bird and bring it back to the kingdom.”
Blood whooshed to his temples, pounding out a fast, hard beat. “Did my mother tell you this?”
He nodded.
He gripped the armrests of the chair, the weight of the words settling into his bones. “And she mentioned me specifically?”
“Aye.”
“What if I fail?”
A charge kindled in the room as Father held his eyes. “Then Garrin will die.”