Chapter 8
Leon
“So. They know,” Tira says to Fairon.
She adjusts her crossed legs on the bench she’s claimed underneath a broad-branched oak tree.
Coincidentally, I think it’s one of a few Palquir gifted my grandfather as thanks after the war.
They litter the palace grounds, which is where we’re currently meeting to avoid prying eyes and ears.
Damia and Alastor are stationed as guards further out, between us and the palace, ready to alert us if anyone starts heading our way.
“You knew?” Ana asks Tira.
“Don’t look so surprised. Fairon had to have someone he could confide in when he realized his grandfather tried to kill him. Why do you think I didn’t come with you to see Frinach? I’ve already heard her story.”
“It’s true,” Fairon says, settling down on the bench beside her, his posture notably perfect beside her slouch. “I wasn’t sure who I could trust in Lavail after what I’d discovered. Tira was the one person I could be completely sure wasn’t in His Majesty’s pocket.”
“I don’t think I even understand what you’ve discovered,” I say. “I know he’s no saint—”
Tira snorts. “Understatement of the century.”
I ignore her interjection, needing answers. “Why in the gloam would Grandfather want to kill you, Fairon? You’ve always been his favorite. The perfect heir. It was a nightmare for him when you were sick.”
Fairon grimaces. It’s so unusual for him to put his feelings on display that my dread deepens. “Because I found something—something he didn’t want me to see—and it was the first clue in a much uglier tale.”
“You’re going to have to start with three years ago, and Agathyre,” Tira says.
Fairon nods. “I was working on a project on military restructuring when I stumbled across old plans of the king’s detailing a strategy to invade Agathyre.”
If this is where it starts, I have no idea where it’s going. I stare at him, and it’s up to Ana to break the stunned silence.
“He can’t do that. What about the treaty?” she says.
“A piece of parchment signed thousands of years ago?” Fairon shakes his head. “He doesn’t care about the treaty—or at least, he didn’t at the time he made the plans. He knew the dryads wouldn’t fight back, and back then, the Trovian monarchs were still massively in his debt from the civil war.”
“But why would he do it?” Ana asks. “What did he want out of it?”
“I asked the same question. He claimed it was so we wouldn’t have to rely on the dryads’ charity to heal our sick.
He said we could put an end to the Agathyrians’ selfishly hoarding their viatic secrets and force them to share their knowledge with everyone.
But he said he’d put the plan to rest decades ago, that I had nothing to worry about. ”
“And you believed him?” I ask incredulously.
“No,” Fairon says. “I was so disturbed he’d ever seriously considered it, I couldn’t trust that he’d let it go. I kept digging. A week later, I was sent out to investigate the star fall.”
“But…” Ana looks around her, making sure we’re truly alone.
“He tried to kill you for looking into a war that didn’t even happen?
How does that make sense?” She shakes her head.
“And he was using the star as, what, a murder weapon? Surely there are easier and more effective ways of killing someone. As proven by the fact that you didn’t actually die. ”
“Anything more direct might have blown back on him,” Tira pointed out. “He couldn’t be seen trying to get rid of his heir—it would have meant shutting up one fae at the cost of stirring up questions from about a thousand others.”
Fairon sighs, preparing himself for the next part.
“I spent the next two years not being able to remember my own name, let alone worry about His Majesty’s need to conquer the dryads.
I think he expected the sickness to kill me quickly, but he hadn’t factored in how fast you’d get me to the sanctuary, Leonidas, nor how effective it would be in keeping me alive. ”
“And once you were in there, you were protected,” I say, realization dawning on me. I see the question in Ana’s eyes.
“The sanctuary’s magic doesn’t just protect Claerwyn blood from sickness. We can’t be harmed within its walls.”
Ana turns to Fairon. “So you’re saying he settled for having you dying instead of dead.
It mostly worked for him anyway, I suppose,” she continued, thinking out loud, “since you were in no condition to be a threat to him like that, and he had no reason to believe you’d ever get better.
He just had to wait for the sickness to get you. ”
“Yes. Then Leonidas found the impossible: a cure.”
“Now we know why he tried to sabotage that damn trial,” Tira says to Ana. “He was worried what would happen if you succeeded with Fairon.”
Fairon nods. “He didn’t want me to keep following the trail of the Agathyre invasion and discover the real secret he was trying to hide.
I’d actually gotten a clue already, thanks to something I read in those old plans, but its significance only dawned on me when Proctor Gallis sent her reply to Tira about the artifacts. ”
Fairon swallows, steeling himself. “The Traveler’s Mark—that’s what they called Ethira’s seal at the Lyceum, and that’s what it was called in the king’s plans.
It was the key to it all—those resources we needed that would allow us to invade Agathyre.
The Miravow would stand between the dryads and anyone trying to conquer them.
You know firsthand how dangerous it is,” he says, gesturing to us all.
“But the Traveler’s Mark would allow the bearer safe passage through the forest,” I say. I take a step back. Something’s brewing inside me, an idea too dark to entertain. But it’s lurking there in the shadows, fighting to come into the light.
“Yes, that’s why he needed it,” Fairon says.
“And that’s why our father went after it,” I finish. “To keep it out of Respen’s hands and avert a war.”
The truth claws its way to the front of my mind, demanding to be acknowledged. Ana feels how hard it hits me, reaching out across the bond to soothe me.
“You reached the conclusion much faster than me,” Fairon says. To an outsider, he looks as serene as ever, but I know him too well, and the sorrow and bitterness in his eyes are obvious.
Ana looks to Tira, who nods.
“Yep,” Tira says grimly. “What happened next is…exactly what you’re thinking.”
Ana’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes darting to mine.
“Respen?...He was the one?” she asks across the mooring.
“That’s what they’re saying,” I reply.
All these years, I wanted to know what really happened to our parents. I’d been so certain there was more to the story. And now it’s clear that I was right. I’d just been seeking answers in the wrong places. I never thought to look in my own home for their murderer.
There’s a lead weight in my lungs, making me desperate for air.
“Excuse me,” I say, turning and letting my feet carry me away. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to breathe somewhere different. I have to escape this pressure building inside me.
“Do you need me?” Ana calls across the bond.
“No, thank you,” I say. “I just need some time.”
She understands, of course. Doesn’t even bother with another question. I just feel a reassuring pulse of warmth across the mooring, and then nothing.
Eventually, I have to stop walking because I hit the edge of the lake. I let the water lap against the toes of my boots as I stare across it toward the palace. I have an urge to cleave apart the ground underneath the building, splitting the earth open until it swallows the place whole.
My father was always a popular figure. He was good at getting people to like him—a charming man.
Not like his sons. But part of that was because he never disagreed with people openly, especially not my grandfather.
Whenever Respen was off doing something despicable, Father always tried to deal with it in the least confrontational way possible.
He’d ask questions that made my grandfather consider a different angle, or line up allies that shared his viewpoint to speak for him. He was subtle. Some might say sneaky.
If he wanted to stop the king going to war, removing a necessary item from Filusia and hiding it elsewhere is exactly the kind of thing he’d do. It explains why my father took the seal in secret—why our grandfather never told us about it.
And why he tried to silence Fairon when my brother got too close to finding out what had happened.
As if I’ve summoned him, I hear my brother’s careful footsteps behind me. He doesn’t speak right away, coming to stand beside me, examining the surface of the lake.
“Did Ana send you?” I ask eventually.
“She didn’t want you to be alone,” he says evenly.
I feel a surge of love for the woman. It’s a new thing—feeling so loved, so cared for. I used to be the one always doing the protecting in my life; now, I finally have someone I’d give the world to keep safe, and she’s the one saving me, in every way.
“I wasn’t surprised, when Phaia told me about the mooring,” Fairon says, still keeping his eyes on the water.
“We had to do it,” I explain, braced for his disapproval. “Otherwise, Ana would’ve died and Caledon would’ve gotten everything he wanted.”
“That may be true, but something tells me you would have ended up there one way or another, with or without the Temple.” He shakes his head, but his tone isn’t angry. “All those warnings I gave you about it—I should’ve known better.”
“You forget how many times I’ve ignored your warnings before,” I say.
“I was so worried Grandfather would use you to manipulate the princess, or the other way round. I could only see it ending in a lot of ugliness and pain for you both.”
We lapse back into silence. I can’t argue with his fears. It’s not like they’re unrealistic.
“It would be a fucking evil thing to do, even for him,” I say at last. We both know I’m not talking about meddling with Ana and me.
“I know. I refused to believe it for a while,” Fairon says gently.
“When Ana cured me, the dryads spent weeks filling me full of potions to keep me calm and my mind quiet while I healed. It kept my memory hazy. By the time I recalled the conversation about Agathyre from years before, I thought it couldn’t have any link to the star.
After all, if our grandfather wanted me dead, he’d had plenty of opportunities to finish the job after I left the sanctuary. ”
“So why didn’t he?” I demand, my voice harsh. Fairon’s familiar enough with my temper that he’s not offended by my tone.
“What does our grandfather care about above all else? What does he tell us is most important—the thing we should protect with everything we have?” Fairon asks.
“The kingdom,” I say without hesitation. He’s drummed the lesson into us our whole lives. Filusia comes first. Some of us have just been better at receiving that lesson than others. Which is why if Respen could avoid killing Fairon, he would.
“You’re still the superior heir,” I say, answering my own question.
“As long as you drop the Agathyre issue. Maybe he thought you’d forgotten—or decided to let it go.
” I can’t help but give a bitter laugh. “I was such a terrible replacement. He’d risk giving you a second chance to avoid having to deal with me as crown prince. You’re the better choice for Filusia.”
Fairon waves his hand dismissively. “He believes I am. Just like he believed Father committed the ultimate crime: disloyalty to the kingdom.”
Fairon is right. Respen cares about the strength of the fae nation above all, and that includes ensuring it has the right leadership and direction. If anything jeopardizes that, like a prince trying to sabotage his king’s goals, then the threat must be removed.
“Why did you wait to tell me?” I ask. “I realize on their own, the plans, the seal, and Kora Frinach might not seem like much. But all together, it’s pretty damn incriminating.”
“I had a lot to weigh up,” Fairon says. “At first, I didn’t know if I could fully believe Ms. Frinach’s story.
Maybe she was misleading me, claiming that Respen knew what the star could do.
I needed someone like Alastor who could confirm it.
I didn’t count on that giving His Majesty the time to organize an assassin to try to silence her. ”
“Which means he knows you know,” I point out.
“I don’t think he’s certain she’s spoken to me. Not yet,” Fairon says. “He’s just trying to tie up any loose ends. But he’s certainly been troubled about something recently. Almost as troubled as me.”
He sighs, shaking his head in an unusual display of frustration.
“Besides,” Fairon says, “I couldn’t have moved against him without telling you about my plans.
” His voice raises a few decibels as he gestures agitatedly toward the palace.
“What if I failed? Grandfather would find another way to have me killed to keep the truth buried. You’d come back and find I’d been murdered by some assassin, or killed in some freak accident.
How could I risk leaving you in the dark about what really happened to me—and to Mother and Father? ”
He exhales, steadying himself, and I see now how this has been eating my brother alive.
“Honestly,” he continues, “without Tira to confide in, I’m not sure I would’ve withstood the pressure. That woman has been through so much, and yet she’s got more spirit than anyone else I know.”
Fairon has always been so good at keeping himself in check—always calm, always balanced.
But living in the shadow of this has almost been too much, even for him.
I’m not surprised it helped to have someone like Tira around to give a little perspective.
“I’m here now, too, brother,” I say, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And we can deal with him together.”
Fairon relaxes under my hand, nodding. “I’ve been a fool. You always saw him more clearly. All these years, I thought he was just a wily old man. I knew he saw us as pawns in a larger game, yet still I never thought we were disposable to him. Much less this.”
Words fail him for a moment, and then he finds them.
“Murdering his family for the sake of a stronger nation makes him nothing short of a monster.”
“True,” I say, looking once more out to the spires of the palace in the distance. “But I’m good at dealing with monsters.”