Chapter 11
Morgana
Ismother Respen’s inner flame with darkness, suffocating it, crushing away its heat. The king’s eyes widen, a gasp rattling through him, and Alastor’s screams stop. Respen can’t sustain his magic when the life is being squeezed out of him.
But he’s not dead yet. The flame stutters in my grasp, fighting not to go out, and I’m aware of a rushing noise in my ears.
My whole body starts to ache as my magic drains out of me faster than it ever has before.
My hearing goes strange, the sounds of the dining room disappearing behind a muffled wall, as if I’m underwater.
Respen is shaking now, his eyes rolling as he tries to combat my magic twisting inside him. He slides out of his chair and slips to his knees beside the table.
“You can stop now, Ana. My love.”
The words snap me out of my haze of fury, and I look up to meet Leon’s eyes.
Of course he can feel what I’m feeling—knows what’s happening inside me.
I pull my magic back, allowing the flame to burn brighter again.
Respen groans but manages to lift his head, his eyes alert as he looks for the source of the magic.
A wave of exhaustion hits me, but my hearing returns fast enough for me to hear Fairon giving instructions to Leon. The pair position themselves on either side of their grandfather, Leon holding a sword to his throat.
“What part did you play in the murders of your son and daughter-in-law, Keleus and Helena?” Fairon repeats Alastor’s question, loud enough that it rings across the room. The fae nobles seated around the table can only watch in stunned silence as Respen sneers at his heir.
“What are you going to do, boy? Kill me if I don’t answer? Murder your king in front of a room full of witnesses? I thought you were smarter than that.”
He stares into Fairon’s eyes, and the crown prince shakes his head. “Don’t bother trying to push your sensic magic through, Grandfather. You may have surprised Lord Gyrion, but I know your tricks too well.”
Respen makes a grunt of frustration, then shifts his gaze to Leon. I’m surprised when I can feel it, the pressure dancing around Leon’s consciousness as Respen tests his defenses. It’s not an emotion or a physical sensation, yet it’s unmistakably there, pulsing across the mooring.
“The game is up, Grandfather,” Fairon says. “Your court knows what we suspect now, and you cannot reject Lord Gyrion’s questioning without proving you have something to hide.”
“I have nothing to hide,” Respen spits out, his eyes shining with rage.
“Then answer,” Leon growls, pressing the blade a little closer to the king’s neck. Respen glances up at Leon, a flicker of worry crossing his face. My guess is that while he knows Fairon is too calculating to kill him prematurely, Leon is less of a certainty.
“I only did what a king had to do,” Respen snaps. “I am not ashamed.”
He looks around at the gathered court members, addressing them.
“My son, Prince Keleus, committed a crime. He turned traitor, deliberately disobeying my wishes and stealing something priceless from the crown. What else could I do with an heir who betrayed his own kingdom? It was not an easy choice, but it was right he be executed. We couldn’t have a crown prince who would turn his back on his own people. ”
I watch the fae nobles carefully, wondering if they might agree with Respen’s defense. It’s hard to tell what they’re thinking—right now, they still look stunned.
“He didn’t turn his back on his people—he turned his back on you,” Leon says as his anger floods through the mooring. It’s heavy, tinged with sorrow and pain.
“They’re the same thing,” Respen spits. “An injury to the crown is an injury to the kingdom, but I don’t expect you to be able to see that, Leonidas.
In fact, I didn’t expect either of you to be able to see reason in this matter.
It’s why I didn’t tell you the truth, because I knew you wouldn’t have the wisdom and discernment to accept that I was bringing your father to justice. ”
“And our mother?” Leon asks, his voice dangerously quiet.
“She chose your father over the kingdom,” Respen says. “She had to pay for her treason too.”
Leon strikes him across the face, hard, forcing the king’s head to turn.
There’s a stir from the dining table, and I glance over to see one of the lords looking frantically at the doors.
It strikes me that he’s thinking of running for help, but Damia steps up and places a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.
“Oh no you don’t,” she murmurs.
Respen laughs. It’s a bitter, rasping chuckle as he straightens his neck. “Oh Leonidas, you always had a way of proving my point so exquisitely.”
“Let’s be frank, Your Majesty,” Fairon says, the distaste audible in his voice.
“You kept this a secret because you knew that Filusia wouldn’t stand for it.
Prince Keleus was loved, much more than you.
Oh, your people respect and fear you,” Fairon says when he sees Respen open his mouth to deny this.
“But none of them love you like they loved our father. Even you weren’t sure you could afford to be known as the villain who murdered him. ”
“Prince Fairon is right, Your Majesty,” comes a voice from the table. The fae woman with the dark complexion stands, holding up a hand when some of the soldiers move closer.
“I know it’s not my place to intervene. But I want to look the king in the eyes as I speak to him. We have known each other many centuries, Respen,” she says. Her eyes are filled with tears.
“You know full well I haven’t always agreed with every choice you’ve made,” she continues, “but I believed in your dedication to Filusia. I never imagined that dedication would result in something like this,” she says in an appalled tone.
“Ordering the death of your own child? Whatever Keleus had done, there had to have been another way.”
“Thank you, Duchess Serth,” Fairon says as she sits back down.
Respen’s paler, as if he’s only now starting to realize he’s lost control of the situation. His eyes flick to Velrir, but his head of security is still locked in Hyllus’s grip.
“It was the only way,” he says, a hint of desperation in his tone now. “Keleus’s actions proved he was too weak to rule. He couldn’t make the necessary choices to ensure Filusia grew stronger.”
He lifts a bony hand, reaching out for Fairon’s wrist. “I had higher hopes for you, Fairon. I believe you have what it takes to rule. Even you, Leonidas, are an important asset to this kingdom.”
“You’re too kind,” Leon says, but the king ignores his sarcasm.
“I was protecting you from yourselves. I knew if you discovered how your parents had died, it would result in a mess like this.”
“And what about when you sent Fairon to collect the star you knew would poison him? Were you protecting him then?” Leon growls.
Respen looks unsurprised by Leon’s words. He must have suspected Fairon was in contact with Kora Frinach. It was why he sent the assassin, hoping she hadn’t told us everything yet. He shakes his head, as if Leon has it all wrong.
“These are not matters for public discussion. The decision of the crown—”
“You mean you don’t want to be held accountable for your actions in front of an audience,” Leon barks, nudging his blade against Respen’s neck to remind him it’s there.
The king glares at him. “I didn’t want to remove Fairon,” he snaps, to more inhalations from around the table.
“He was jeopardizing the stability of the throne. Trust me, I would have rather kept him in play than face the idea of you in line for the crown, Leonidas,” he adds venomously.
“That’s why I was willing to give him a second chance when he recovered. ”
Respen looks at Fairon. “But now you insist on disappointing me once again.”
I feel something across the mooring, a new emotion emanating from Leon. I frown, trying to identify it as Respen keeps talking.
“I want you to do as I’ve trained you to for your whole lives: think logically about what’s best for Filusia,” Respen says, speaking quickly.
“Think about the damage a violent coup could do to the kingdom now, when Trova is about to fall to a fae-hating maniac. If you killed me now, you’d be responsible for putting your country in grave danger. ”
The brothers don’t have a response to this. Instead, Fairon and Leon look at each other, something unsettling in their eyes. Leon’s sword falters from its position at Respen’s throat, and I recognize what I’m feeling across the mooring at last.
“He’s using his sensic magic!” I shout. Leon and Fairon were braced for an attack when they first entered this room, but the conversation with Respen distracted them. The king has used the opportunity to start flooding them with fear and paranoia.
I throw my magic out again, grasping at Respen’s inner flame once more, but it’s different this time. Before, my anger was so strong and sharp that I felt like I could snuff the flame out completely if I tried, now I can only stifle it, dimming its light until Respen’s power wavers.
The king stiffens again, sweat beading on his forehead as he tries to hold his magic in place. But my magic is putting too much pressure on him, and his shoulders slump.
Leon’s fear dissipates, and Fairon stands up straighter, looking angrily down at his grandfather.
“Enough tricks. Enough fighting the inevitable.” He looks up at the members of the court, at Velrir and his security.
“You’ve heard the king confess, but what he hasn’t told you is the nature of Keleus’s supposed treason.
He acted to stop my grandfather from invading Agathyre and from breaking the treaty between the three nations. ”
“This is ridiculous,” the woman wearing the rubies blusters. “That can’t be true.”
“Your Majesty,” Duchess Serth says with a voice full of sadness. “Is it true?”
Respen says nothing. He’s too smart to admit it, but he’s also too proud to deny his actions. He won’t lie to save himself.
“Prince Keleus was only guilty of trying to keep the peace in Tiearland,” Fairon says.
“King Respen murdered my father for it, and my mother. And when I came close to uncovering the truth, he tried to kill me. He speaks of stability for Filusia, of what’s best for the country, but I believe what’s best for our kingdom is to be free of its treacherous, bloodthirsty king. ”
No one argues. Even Velrir, looking furiously from behind Hyllus’s thick arms, has enough sense to stay silent.
“Would you like me to do it?” Leon says to Fairon. “I am the King’s Sword, after all.”
Fairon shakes his head. “The time when you had to do every dirty, difficult task for the crown is over. If I’m taking the throne, no one should doubt my ability to do what needs to be done.”
Fairon draws his sword, placing the tip against Respen’s ocher robes, just above his heart.
Respen’s pale eyes meet his grandson’s. He suddenly looks very old and very tired.
“Remember everything I taught you, my boy,” he murmurs. “Hate me if you must, but protect Filusia. Keep it strong.”
“I will,” Fairon says, and there’s a tightness in his voice that I know everyone in the room recognizes. He doesn’t hate his grandfather, not completely. He doesn’t want to do this—even though he knows he must.
“But there are some things you couldn’t teach me,” Fairon continues, “because you never learned them yourself. Perhaps you’ll find them in the next life, Grandfather. I hope so.”
“Be done with it,” Respen says, and Fairon drives his blade into the king’s chest.