Epilogue
A s Conor made his way up the steps of the North Tower, he could not help but remember that long ago, when he and Kel had both been children, they had taken astronomy lessons here with Fausten.
At the top of the tower, they had studied maps of the stars, the movements of the spheres, and the legends of the planets, each ruled by a different capricious god. They had promised each other that one day they would visit the far south, where the stars were different.
But much had changed since then—the kinds of great sweeping changes that made a long-ago promise between two boys feel small and insignificant. He could not think of Kel without pain, despite all he had tried to do to save him. There had been no way to keep Kel with him, and not to know when he might see Kel again—if ever—felt as if Conor walked a narrow bridge over a yawning chasm below, its recesses lost in shadow.
And then there was Lin. Like Kel, she would be safe because she was away from him. He had to believe that, or die.
He forced his mind back to what she had told him just before she’d left Marivent. What had seemed at first like a Story-Spinner tale. The young Prince at a foreign Court, the discovery of a magical creature long thought to be lost, an exchange of blade and blood and fire, and a secret kept for many years by a King who seemed to be turning into a madman but was changing into something else altogether.
And yet he felt it to be true. Conor had always inhabited a world in which he only trusted a few things: his connection to Kel and, later, his feelings for Lin. In that same fashion—more instinct than logic—he trusted this, with a trust that went as deep as his own blood and bones.
Conor reached the landing, where a Castelguard stood at attention in front of his father’s chamber. Conor passed him with a nod, and once he was inside the tower room, he locked the door behind him.
King Markus sat in his customary place, his chair, though its position was different now. Rather than gazing blankly into space, the King was facing the narrow window as if he were looking out at the world beyond. And when Conor came close, although he did not otherwise move, he inclined his head in greeting.
“Father,” Conor said. In the sunlight, the change in the King was very apparent. His eyes were clear and focused, and the color had come back to his skin. The anger that had seemed to grip him before was gone, though there was still about him the sense that he was waiting—not impatiently, but with anticipation—for some great future event.
Conor knelt down before his father’s chair. He knew what he had to say; the words came clearly and simply, as if there were no other words he could use. “Father,” he said again, “Lin has told me everything. Everything that you told her about Malgasi, the phoenix, and what is happening to you—all of it.” As he spoke, he saw Lin’s face, the tears in her eyes as she left his room. He remembered her telling him that she loved him, and though he knew it might never matter, he might never see her again, it gave him strength. “I sent her away, far from here. I told her never to come back. And she’s not the only one. Kel is gone, too. My Királar. Everyone in the Palace thinks he’s dead. And I sent Mayesh away. I know you told me that he was the one I could always trust, that every Aurelian King has always depended on his Counselor. But I had no choice. They have to think I’m all alone. Can you understand that? They must believe that I am at my weakest, completely undefended. That there is no one in Marivent who will lift a hand to protect me. It will make them overconfident, and when they strike they will do so because they think I am alone. But I am not alone, am I? Not entirely.”
He could no longer hold his father’s gaze. He looked down at the floor. “They think you are weak, Father,” he said. “But I believe they are wrong. I believe we can defeat them, together.”
He heard a rustle as his father moved, and a moment later the sharpness of needle points against his scalp as the King reached out and ran a clawed hand through Conor’s hair.
“Yes,” Markus rasped. “Together.”