Chapter Seventeen #3
Pamuna’s expression was raw and pained, her eyes filled with tears.
“He put a shield around the baby while I was carrying her, and then he put a shield around the crib so that no one would know I had her. His magic was already going pink. And then he lowered me out of the window on a rope of magic so I could bring her to you. And he stayed and fought so that I could get away and they wouldn’t realize the baby was gone.
” She sucked in a breath, and her voice was thick with grief.
“A few minutes ago, the shield around Cala went red as blood, and then it disappeared.”
“Goddess forgive me,” Var breathed. “What have I done?”
As far as he knew, a ruler could only bind or unbind a citizen while touching them, but Var tried anyway, reaching out and out, trying to push magic at someone he was very much afraid couldn’t use it anymore.
His magic feeling off, he realized with a jolt. That hollow feeling. A void that Var had made, not understanding the consequences.
Ferna recovered from her swoon and rushed to Var’s side to scoop up the baby.
Var didn’t want to let Cala out of his arms, but he could hardly deny her mother.
Ferna had been so sure that Tor resented Cala.
Var had never understood it, because he’d seen the love every time Tor was in the room with the baby.
But Ferna had been worried, and Yomil… Yomil had claimed that Tor was leading the attack against Cala.
Var whirled, but Yomil was already gone, when Var had been distracted like a fool.
“Guards!” he roared.
They crowded into the room.
“How long ago did Yomil leave?”
“A minute or two, Your Majesty,” one of the guards said, then quailed at Var’s expression.
Var fought the urge to snap. Var had let the man into every aspect of their lives, had trusted him in this most secure location with his wife and his baby. He couldn’t blame any of the guards.
“He is wanted for questioning. Assume he’s armed and dangerous.” They gaped at him. “And find Darmila and send her to me now!”
There was a still moment, and then they bowed. “Yes, Your Majesty. Right away.”
Darmila arrived what felt like ten years later but was probably only a couple of minutes. Var was pacing. Ferna was rocking the baby. Pamuna and Nawila were watching him with worried eyes.
Crisply, she said, “You believe Yomil involved?”
“He falsely placed my brother at the head of the attackers going after the baby, and he sneaked out while we were grappling with the news Pamuna brought of Tor’s…
of his last defense. I assume now that much of the information he was feeding me was false.
I want him found as soon as possible, I want any conspirators found, and I want—” He choked, had to swallow against the thickness in his throat.
“I want my brother’s body recovered. Immediately. ”
She bowed. “Your Majesty, I submit myself for any sanction you deem—”
Var waved this aside impatiently. “Find Yomil, and figure out what happened. We’ll look at apportioning blame later. My concern is for those who conspired with him, not those who were duped by him. Or are you proposing I sanction myself as well?”
There was a hint of amusement in her eyes, but her expression was still serious.
“Nevertheless, Your Majesty. Safeguarding the royal family is my duty, and I have failed. But I will execute this task, you have my word.”
He inclined his head. “I know you will.”
She bowed again, and then she was gone, barking orders before the door was even closed.
He stared at the door, mind reeling. He could blame her, of course. He could hang all of today’s deaths at her door. Maybe a portion of it was even her fault. But if he looked at the overall picture, if he considered intent, not just consequences, then this wasn’t because of her.
When had he stopped giving his own brother the benefit of the doubt? He thought of all the things that Yomil had said over the years, a shiver running through him as he wondered just how long this conspiracy had been going on for. Was this what the man had intended with his lies?
But Var had been the one to listen.
His head swam, moments flitting past his mind’s eye. Playing with his brother when they were children. Raking him over the coals after the disaster in the mountain. Grinning as they sneaked cake out of the kitchen and never once considered the trail of crumbs and sticky fingers.
I will always carry the weight of those twelve guards who died because of me, but that’s not what this is, Varex. I saved lives in Tond, thousands of lives, and now you’re punishing me for it.
Forex had been so angry, but while Varex knew he was prone to exaggeration and hadn’t been happy for some years with the situation with the exiles, Yomil had confirmed the contents of the letter.
Var had let them convince him that Tor had been woefully negligent. Yomil had been pushing for more, but Var hadn’t been willing to hear it.
You must know I would never willingly harm you.
Var had still believed that, but Ferna had been so worried after Tor had borrowed his magic. Yomil had endlessly laid out the ways this could be misused, how Tor had demonstrated the danger Var was in.
And slowly, Var had started to believe the worst. Oh, not that Tor was a malicious traitor, but that he’d been careless, that he’d gotten involved in things he shouldn’t have, that his reckless attitude had done real and lasting harm.
He’d seen the chaos Tor’s disobedience had caused in Vayrin, and he’d let that worry shape how he saw what was being reported in Tond.
Yomil had pushed for a charge of treason, carefully arguing that Var couldn’t see the situation clearly when they were talking about his own brother. Var hadn’t been entirely convinced, but he hadn’t stood up for his brother, either.
No, he’d bound over Tor’s magic, thinking that would give them time to sort everything out.
Instead, he’d been responsible for his brother’s death.
If they were talking about unintended consequences of a terrible mistake, then Var had just made the worst one of all.
He’d lost an integral part of his family tonight—and he had to assume that the remaining members were still in danger.
Ferna was weeping over the sleeping baby, and Varex pulled both of them into his arms.
If Yomil couldn’t be trusted, there was no saying how many people in the castle might be working for him either deliberately or inadvertently.
“We’re going to leave,” Varex said suddenly.
Fernila looked up at him, surprised.
“We don’t know who we can trust. We need to go somewhere safe to regroup and get to the bottom of this.”
After a moment, she nodded. Her lips trembled. “Yes, we need… we need to protect the baby.”
He realized that Pamuna and Nawila were still in the room. But if they’d been in league with whoever was doing this, Cala would be dead, and he might have believed that Tor had been responsible.
“Not a word about this to anyone,” Var told them sternly. “We don’t know who we can trust.”
“No, Your Majesty,” they both murmured.
“We’ll leave immediately, quietly and unobtrusively. You will behave as though we’re still present. Buy us time to get away.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” they agreed.
Var had to get his family out of here. He had to keep them safe—unlike his brother, whom he’d failed utterly.