Chapter 8
Kay’s the one who goes to let William in.
It’s better than letting him run off into the High Hold with all his questions festering.
Meanwhile, Jonas attempts to jam some of the larger shards of glass back into the window like a jagged puzzle, packing the gaps with whatever fabric and cushions he can.
We have six other reception rooms in this house, not including the study and the library, and moving to one of those would be the easiest thing for us to do.
But if Jonas wants to slice his hand open with a foolish endeavour, then who am I to stop him?
He probably wants to feel useful, which he is assuredly not.
As William enters the sitting room and stands only feet away from me, I struggle to know what to say to this fifteen-year-old boy – nearly a man. Up until a day ago, William was nothing more than Artur’s ward, and now he is my brother.
My brother, whom the king condemned to death. And yet here he stands, his heart still beating, every breath an act of treason, and one I am so, so grateful for.
Even if I can’t find the words to say it.
And I am not alone in my muteness.
Rather than taking a seat, William stands frozen, his gaze flicking between me and Kay as if he’s trying to reconcile two versions of the world at once. His face is pale, his mouth slightly open, breath fogging faintly in the chilled air. He doesn’t look angry. He looks stunned. Lost.
The silence stretches, brittle as the ice I recklessly wield.
‘You were eavesdropping,’ I say finally, just to say something.
‘I was following Jonas,’ he replies, not admitting or denying the eavesdropping accusation. ‘I was worried this morning. I could tell something was up at breakfast because he was acting oddly. And he got home so late last night.’
‘So you followed him here and listened in on our conversation?’ I finish for him.
He glowers in a manner that is remarkably similar to Kay’s glares. Would I have noticed the similarities if I hadn’t known? There is no way to tell.
Everything in William now seems to scream family at me.
Brother.
‘I’m glad I did.’ He continues to pout. ‘Would you ever have told me who I am if I hadn’t?’
I chew my lip. ‘I don’t know the answer to that,’ I lie.
I do.
I would have kept it from him for his own sake. For all of our sakes. The more people who know, the more danger he’s in. As much as I hate to admit it, Jonas was right about that. But then, there’s not telling people generally, and not telling his sisters. That’s a big fucking difference.
William lets out a short, disbelieving laugh. There is no humour in it at all. Nothing but pain. ‘So this is it, then? My entire life is a lie? And I only learned about it because I was stupid enough to worry about a person I thought actually cared about me?’
‘William—’ Jonas starts, but William holds up a hand without looking at him.
‘No. Just … don’t. I need them to explain this.’ His eyes flick between Kay and me. ‘Both of you. I need to understand. I don’t understand. I can’t …’
He drags a hand through his hair, pacing a short, restless circle on the rug. ‘My family are in Rowell. That’s what I believed. But you’re telling me that they’re not. That I’m from here. From Wrohelm. And yet, I was hidden here? It makes no sense.’
‘I know it’s a lot to take in. I get that.
I’m not even close to comprehending it myself.
Believe me.’ I edge towards him, but he flinches like he’s a scared animal.
Not wanting to spook him any more than he already is, I shift back.
‘We just want to help you, William,’ I say softly.
‘We want to keep you safe. But you need to realise, we’re only just getting our heads around this ourselves. ’
He stares at each of us in turn, nostrils flaring as his breathing quickens. Then he shakes his head in a rapid flurry.
‘It’s not possible. Florian Kultavaris died.
Everyone knows that. The king ordered it.
’ His voice falters as understanding dawns slowly, painfully.
‘My whole life,’ he murmurs quietly, as if to himself, ‘Artur told me I was lucky. Lucky to have been given a future here.’ His laugh is hollow. ‘Turns out I was stolen.’
‘You weren’t stolen,’ Kay says quickly. ‘You were saved. This is a miracle, William. I promise you.’
He looks at me again, a sheen glistening in his eyes. ‘Do you know what the worst part is?’
I shake my head.
‘I believed it.’ His voice drops. ‘Every word. I built myself on the lie my father … the lie Artur told me.’ He presses a fist to his chest. ‘If I’m not who I thought I was … then who am I?’
‘You’re still the same person,’ I hasten to reassure him. ‘You are. It’s just your history that’s changed.’
‘My heritage,’ he corrects. ‘How can I know who I am if I don’t even know where I come from?’
Finally, he stops his pacing and sinks onto the edge of a chair, elbows braced on his knees, staring at the floor.
‘I have sisters,’ he says again, softer this time, as though testing the shape of the words.
‘I have a family.’ His voice hardens as he finally looks up. ‘And you weren’t going to tell me.’
Guilt ripples through me, so I give him the truth he deserves.
‘William, do you know the story of our mother?’ I ask, taking a seat on another of the chairs, still a distance away from him. ‘Do you know the tale of the Queenkiller?’
His mouth opens as he looks at me warily, but he doesn’t answer.
‘This isn’t a test, I promise,’ I assure him. ‘There’s no right or wrong answer here.’
‘I know a little,’ he admits. ‘By the time I was old enough to learn of the rumours, they’d died down. But they started up again recently.’
‘Since I entered the Retterheld,’ I reply.
‘Yes.’
‘So what have you heard?’ I press.
His lips twist. ‘I heard that she was jealous of the queen. That she thought she’d find a place beside the king if she let his wife and child die. And that’s why she did it.’
Great Goddess, that’s horrible. My jaw drops and I lean forward to him. ‘She would never … never.’ The thought alone is enough to choke me. ‘She loved our father with her whole heart. She adored him.’
‘Our father,’ William murmurs. His jaw tightens. ‘I heard that he was an illegitimate bastard.’
‘Bastard or not, he was a lord,’ I fire back instantly.
‘He was also one of the strongest wind weavers the Morathkians have ever known. And as for this rumour of Mother wanting to leave him for the king … it’s nonsense.
Mother loved Father and stayed with him even when he lost his mind to drink because he couldn’t bear the pain of the death of his son – a son he adored. ’
William winces at the words and I curse my thoughtlessness.
This is hard. Harder than I could ever have imagined. Not that I ever dared to imagine this moment.
Even when it came to my gifting, I knew that the Goddess could not bring back those whose power had already been returned to Mortidem.
I truly thought Florian was dead and gone.
This last part of the Goddess’s gift is a miracle I never dared to dream of.
Even if Kay and I knowing of William puts him in greater danger.
I draw in a lungful of air, which I exhale with a shudder.
‘I don’t know the details, William,’ I tell him truthfully.
‘All I know is that Florian Kultavaris didn’t die the way we were all led to believe.
That the king’s order to put him to death was somehow ignored, and a couple of years later he – you – were returned to Wrohelm and given to Artur Lorathin to raise.
The only thing I know for sure is that you are alive, and it is a miracle. ’
A surge of love, of pure joy I hadn’t allowed myself to feel in years, floods me, but it falters at the sight of my brother swallowing nervously, his hands opening and closing.
‘A treasonous miracle.’
Despite his obvious devastation, I’m pleased that he grasps the severity of the situation.
William may not have evaded the king’s order by himself – or even known that such an evasion had happened – but if Korvane found out, he would certainly correct the mistake and see my brother put to death. This time for real.
‘Yes,’ I reply simply. The word tastes like ash in my mouth, but I cannot soften this for him. He needs to know the danger he faces now. Only then can he guard himself as he must.
William turns to Jonas. ‘Is all this true?’ he asks, eyes wide. ‘Tell me it’s not. Tell me this is some sick joke?’ he pleads.
Jonas lowers his head ever so slightly.
‘It’s no joke. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,’ he says. ‘I should have as soon as I knew, but I couldn’t put you at risk. If you had told anyone – the wrong friend, a mentor you believed you could trust – you would have been killed, William. Please understand that all I wanted was to protect you.’
William’s lips disappear as he presses them together into a tight line.
‘And how long have you known, brother?’
The way he leans on the word causes Jonas to flinch.
‘A … a while.’
William’s jaw clenches as a waft of unnatural air rushes in from behind the open door, hissing as it escapes through the cracks in the broken window.
I shiver as the air rushes against my skin, realising that William has cyclone powers, just like our father.
‘How long?’ he repeats.
The wind is a quiet threat, and Jonas knows it. He pales.
‘I was fifteen or sixteen. Little more than a kid myself.’
The pain on William’s face is so raw I fear for the rest of our windows.
‘Over half my life …’ His words come out as a near sob. ‘And all that time you called me brother, knowing I was actually theirs!’
Jonas swallows. ‘I did what I thought was right,’ he offers quietly.
With another scoff, William turns back to me. ‘You only found out at the gifting?’ he asks.
‘Even later than that,’ I tell him. ‘Compelled by the Goddess, Jonas told me the truth after the ball the night before last.’ I feel no qualms about throwing Jonas even further under the carriage.
After all, if the Goddess hadn’t insisted, then who knows how long it would have been before we learned the truth? If indeed we ever would have.