Chapter 45
Blaze
‘River,’ I whisper.
Since discovering the truth about my family, I haven’t had much time to consider all the ways this moment might play out, and now that it’s arrived I don’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to handle any of this, quite frankly.
First I find out that I’m Demari, then that Fox is too. Then I wake up after being drugged and abducted to be told that the Rain Singers are alive, and not only are they alive but they truly seem to believe that I, of all people, am a God.
Power still hums through my veins. My head is spinning and my hands are shaking and all I can hear is this rushing, whistling sound, like when you hold a seashell to your ear.
For a moment I wonder if I’m going to vomit. Wouldn’t that be an auspicious way to mark my elevation to divinity?
‘I …’ My voice trails off limply and I begin to sway on my feet.
Fox reaches for me, but it’s River who says, ‘Shall we go somewhere quiet and talk?’
And I nod, because I seem incapable of doing anything else.
I let River guide me through the kneeling Rain Singers.
I try my best to smile, though in truth their apparent deference makes me so deeply uncomfortable I want to curl into a ball.
For I have lived my entire life as an outsider, feared and reviled.
I am used to people tripping me up or tearing me down, whispering insults in my presence, not prayers.
I glance back to where Fox is standing with the now-weeping Elder, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder.
He gives me an encouraging smile coupled with a shrug, as if to say, Just own it.
So I hold my head up high until the pebbled beach turns to rough-hewn steps cut into the cliff face, which lead into the mouth of a cave.
River is not dressed like the other Singers, but wears the same crisp blue tunic he wore at the Golden Palace. The last time I saw him it was covered in Queen Hydra’s blood.
I follow him through a series of interconnecting tunnels until we come to a large chamber lit by a crackling fire.
In the centre sits a low stone table set with an array of food – fish mostly, plump spit-roasted birds, a loaf of slightly burnt bread, cheese.
I realize suddenly how ravenous I am. My stomach is tight and hollow, but I don’t sit down; I just stand stiffly by the fire, letting it thaw the chill that seems to have crept right into my bones.
‘They’re not dead,’ I say weakly.
River shakes his head. ‘No.’
‘Fox said that … that the rumours about the Rain Singers’ extinction were fabricated after his grandfather ordered their deaths. That he sent his soldiers to slaughter them.’
‘That’s true,’ says River. ‘Caius disliked their autonomy, their refusal to be governed by Etherian laws. He saw them as a threat. But his attempt to eliminate them, though crippling, was unsuccessful. Thousands were lost, but hundreds survived. Now their existence is not only secluded but entirely secret. They’ve spent decades training to combat any future attacks.
You saw how hostile they were when faced with intruders. ’
I nod as I recall the arrows firing down from above, the disbelief and distrust on the Singers’ faces. At first they were prepared to kill me. Except now …
‘What just happened out there?’
‘The Rain Singers have named you Om Shikara.’
‘Yes, I’m aware of that. But why?’
‘You’re the most powerful Rain Singer that’s ever lived, Blaze.’
‘Even more powerful than you?’ I challenge.
Recognition flickers in those deep-blue eyes. He knows that I know what he is, but does he know that I know who he is?
‘Will you take something to eat?’ River asks gently.
I pause, reluctant, then edge towards the table.
All restraint vanishes the moment the first mouthful passes my lips, and I devour my plate like some starved animal, ignoring the pile of cutlery.
I wonder briefly what Grandmother would say if she saw me eating with my hands.
The thought fills me with annoyance, because Grandmother has no right to criticize anything I do any more, given that she concealed my true heritage and let me grow up believing I was some kind of freak, just like my mother before me.
River clears his throat. ‘Blaze, I wonder, do you know –’
‘That you’re my real grandfather?’ I say bluntly. ‘Yes, I do.’
I realize then that I’m not just angry with Grandmother. I’m angry with River, too. Perhaps it’s unreasonable and unkind, but reason and kindness feel beyond my reach right now. I’m hanging on to composure by a rapidly fraying thread.
My voice is quiet, biting. ‘All this time you knew and you said nothing.’
‘Your grandmother forbade me ever to speak of it.’
I scoff, rage sparking. ‘Why does that not surprise me?’
‘She had cause to keep it from you.’
‘It was your secret, too.’
‘It might’ve been mine to tell, but it was hers to carry.
’ River speaks calmly, yet there is a diamond-sharp edge to his tone.
‘Your grandmother is of noble birth. She was the jewel of one of the most powerful pureblood families in the realm. Those raised that high have so much further to fall. Do you know what would have happened if word had got out? Her reputation destroyed, the honour of House Harglade forever sullied –’
‘You speak of honour, but what of honesty?’ I snap. ‘What of truth?’
‘Truth can be dangerous, Blaze. Your grandmother wasn’t just protecting herself but her children, and their children. If Analiese was named a bastard, the legitimacy of the entire House could have been called into question.’
I recall what Fox told me about growing up illegitimate: sneered at and disregarded by the court, a child held accountable for the circumstances of his birth – a fate my mother was spared, shielded as she was by Grandmother’s deception.
‘Did she ever learn who you really were?’ I ask quietly.
River’s face is pained. ‘I don’t believe so. My visits stopped before she was old enough to ask questions.’
‘Visits?’
‘I would often steal into Harglade Hall,’ he says.
‘Your grandmother would bring Analiese down to the crypt, where I’d be waiting.
She was … extraordinary.’ River smiles softly.
‘She was still in her swaddling cloth, and yet fire itself was in tune with her every breath. When she smiled, the flames danced; when she cried, they blazed; and when she slept, they burned low, as though waiting for her to wake again. I would sit there for hours, just holding her.’ His voice cracks and I look away.
‘As she got older, the risks proved too great, so I kept my distance. But when your mother was branded an Heir, I couldn’t resist travelling to Cor Caval with the Court of Waves.
I had to see her, just as I had to see you and your brothers.
It’s why I came to your Name Day ball, why I volunteered to be the Aquatori trainer.
I wanted to be near you, even if you had no idea who I truly was. ’
I think back to what River said that first day of training at the Keep.
We meet at last.
I never understood the depth of those words until now.
I swallow hard, my gaze fixed on the fire as more memories descend – River defending me before the other Heirs, telling me of the book about Melding, escorting me safely from the throne room just as my panic was about to spill over, giving me a clue for the first trial, carrying me back to my rooms after the second, sitting in my tent with Grandmother before the third.
He’s always been there, through everything. More than a mentor – a protector, a guardian, someone I’ve trusted, listened to, cared about.
Emotion wells in my eyes and I blink it away.
‘Blaze,’ River says gently. ‘Knowing you has been one of the greatest joys of my life.’
I can feel the anger splintering. River was sworn to secrecy. He vowed never to reveal that he was my grandfather, and yet he found a way to be one without ever breaking his word. And for that, I’m grateful.
‘I understand how unsettling this must be,’ he continues. ‘But please, don’t blame your grandmother. All she’s done, she did for you.’
‘No, all she’s done is lie.’ I hear some of the viciousness creeping back into my tone. ‘To my mother, to my brothers, to me. Clearly she didn’t trust us to keep our mouths shut.’
‘Blaze –’
‘Why are you defending her?’ I demand.
‘Because I love her.’
There is no hesitation. He says it so simply, and yet the words are steeped with such ardent intensity that they seem to scorch the air between us.
‘Still?’ I ask quietly, as if the answer is not obvious.
River smiles sadly. ‘Until the very end.’
I feel a tug beneath my ribcage as my reluctant heart expands. I watch him trace the brandmark on the back of his hand – a gift Grandmother gave to him so that he might have a choice in who he could become. Her fire forged his future, and he wears it proudly.
‘I … I saw you,’ I confess. ‘Both of you. I saw the moment you met. I saw you at the Choosing. I saw your lives, intertwined.’
‘But how?’ River asks in surprise.
‘With the Eye of the Past.’
‘I thought King Balen –’
‘His is a fake. Fox has the real one.’
A corner of River’s mouth twitches. ‘Smart boy.’
‘That’s certainly one word for him,’ I mutter.
River laughs, and soon enough I find myself telling him everything.
About the Eyes, about Elva, about the escape from Fire Mountain, the Ridge tunnels, the Wildlands, what happened in Wellwall.
He listens with unwavering patience, letting me talk until my voice is spent.
He tells me of unrest among the courts, the break-out from the dungeons, Hal’s waning authority, the attempt on his life and the chaos left in its wake.
‘And you believe that you’ll find Syla’s Eye here, in Brava?’ River asks.
‘Yes, or at least Fox seems to think so. He reckons wherever I sent the Eye will have a stronger connection to my past.’
‘And exactly how much do you know of my past, Blaze?’