Chapter 39 #3
I offered her a small but genuine smile. “We’ve all been through enough this past year. Let’s put this behind us.”
“That’s it?” Teller said, glancing between us. “That’s all you both have to say? Nothing more?”
I shrugged at him. “Of course there’s more, but I’m sick of holding grudges. It’s time to move on.”
He balked. “How do we move on from something that’s still happening?”
Mother’s shoulders sank. “Teller, sweetheart—”
“We thought you were dead, Mother. After you disappeared, Father became a shell of himself. He stopped hunting, he barely fished. Diem had to work twice as many hours to make ends meet. She nearly got herself killed trying to fulfill a bargain that turned out to be another one of your lies. I didn’t get a full night of sleep for months.
I nearly failed two classes because I couldn’t focus on anything other than where your dead body might be. ”
My mouth popped open. On the surface, Teller had seemed to be relatively fine during our mother’s absence. Worried, but fine. It occurred to me now that, with Father depressed and me unraveling, he might not have felt free to be anything else.
“I’m so sorry,” Mother said. “I should have left a note to explain that I’d gone away.”
“You plotted an attack on the Crowns. What you did with the Guardians put our entire family in danger. Didn’t we deserve to know that, too?”
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “Of course you did.”
Her contrition did little to calm him. He rose to his feet, shouting down at her.
“You had an entirely separate life you never told us about. We trusted you with everything, and you never trusted us back. You used me to help Diem instead of letting me make that choice for myself. You risked all our lives, and the only thing you think you should have done differently is leave a note?”
I bit my lip. He had a point.
“And you,” he snapped, turning to me. “You’re making all the same mistakes she did. You keep secrets from everyone. You risk your life as if your death wouldn’t impact us all. You’re trying to solve the entire world’s problems when the real problem you need to solve is yourself.”
I bristled. He had a point there, too.
“You know there’s more to it,” I protested. “I told you what I learned on the island. That’s not something I can ignore.”
My mother’s shrewd eyes turned to me. “What did you learn on the island?”
“Nothing,” I said quickly.
Teller threw up his hands and groaned.
“Your Majesty?” Alixe strode forward, holding a small paper in her hands. “I’m sorry to interrupt. A hawk arrived with a message marked as urgent.”
I stood. “Was there another attack?”
“I’m not sure. The envelope states that it’s ‘for the Queen’s eyes only.’” She held the note out. The crisp parchment was edged in pale pink wax and stamped with the seal of the Sophos Crown—a seal that only I had the rightful authority to use.
“I really should have killed Doriel when I had the chance,” I muttered, ripping it open.
To Her Majesty Queen Diem,
I want to first thank you for allowing me to sit in on your council.
I was quite inspired. I have taken the liberty of organizing a similar council here in Sophos, with equal seats for mortals and Descended.
You’ll be pleased to know that our first act of business was more equitable standards for those invited to study.
I worked my jaw. Sophos was the only realm I had not yet visited since my return from the island.
It was aggressively annoying to discover that Doriel had actually been a noble steward of it in my absence.
Teller leaned in, skimming the words over my shoulder.
I was about to crumple the note and tuck it away for another day when my eyes hooked on one word at bottom: Andrei.
I can only pray that you will forgive me for what I write next. Before I left Lumnos, I spoke with Evrim Benette about the knife used to kill Andrei Bellator. I asked Evrim how it was possible that it could be so similar to the dagger he created for me on behalf of late King Ulther.
He reminded me that my High General had placed a weapons order for my Royal Guard some time ago.
Evrim had the knives made to complement mine, with one difference—a blackwood handle.
Unfortunately, the knives were never received.
According to Evrim, they were stolen during an attack on his armory by the Guardians.
My stomach dropped. The paper trembled in my hand, the words becoming difficult to read.
Beyond that, he had no more details. I hope this information will be helpful to you in finding your father’s killer. I share your desire that this heinous crime be met with swift and final justice.
In the Blessed Father’s wisdom,
Doriel
The letter tumbled to the ground. The lights and sounds of the camp dimmed to a dull, blurry hiss, and a droning hum filled my ears, like the aftershock of a bomb detonating too close.
My eyes took a jerky, disoriented path through the drunken celebrants in search—and stopped on the one person that held the answers I’d sought for so long.
“Henri,” I whispered.