Chapter 24 #2
I shake my head, reluctant to believe him. “Of course it’s the truth. My mother wouldn’t lie to me.” But I know that’s not true. My mother lied to me often.
“Have you been seeing things before they happen? In visions? Or maybe dreams?” Caene asks, the conversation taking an abrupt turn. I blanch. My mouth hangs open, my mind trying to catch up, unable to find words, unsure of what is safe to reveal and what I should keep close to my chest.
“You fight as though you know exactly where your opponent is going to be and when. My family has earned its fortune through war and battle. I’ve seen and done godsawful things, fought many men, and even I’ve never seen anyone fight like you.
” I might be mistaken but I could swear there is a touch of admiration in his voice.
I can’t seem to find my voice, so I slowly nod my head.
Caene sighs and drops his. “Fuck . . . you’re a Winddane.
” He shoves his fingers through his hair and tugs.
“I had hoped it wasn’t true. That it wasn’t you. But . . .” He gestures to me.
My eyes dart all around the room while I wrack my brain.
I’ve heard that name before but I can’t place it.
Mine and my mother’s last name is Cahira and I’d just assumed it was also my father’s.
It never occurred to me it might be my mother’s.
I give up on trying to remember who that name belonged to. “Who are the Winddanes?”
“The family with the gift of divination.” Once again, I’m blindsided by that information. “Your father was Altair Winddane, the last patriarch of the House of Divination.”
I shake my head, my mind refusing to believe what my heart is telling me is true. “I can’t be. I’d have been killed after my birth. Your lot don’t particularly like girls,” I sneer.
He slowly moves his head back and forth, still not looking at me.
“You should have been. Female heirs are useless to the Exalted because they cannot inherit the talisman’s gifts.
Or so we thought. Your mother, father, and a midwife protected you and kept you hidden.
To keep you safe from the other Exalted.
It left your father vulnerable and without an heir.
Another patriarch ordered his own heirs to kill him.
Whoever succeeded would come one step closer to being the chosen heir of their house.
The one to inherit the talisman and all the powers that go with it.
One heir succeeded, and his patriarch stole the divination talisman, hoping to gain its power.
It worked for the last fourteen years. That patriarch has been able to harness the gifts of divination.
But lately, the power in the talisman has been waning, draining from the Exalted who has it while simultaneously draining the life from the Exalted patriarch himself. ”
“Maziar Montbeth,” I breathe. “Your father.”
Caene nods.
Mama was right. Guilt swirls in my gut. I should have believed her. I should have helped her. Instead, I let her waste away in her misery. Alone.
Caene’s voice stops me from spiraling too far down that dark path. “I think the power’s been draining from the talisman and my father and returning to you. It’s why you can see things before they happen. I would bet it’s during times of heightened stress.”
I don’t confirm or deny it. I don’t need to.
“If females can’t inherit the powers of the Exalted, how is it possible that I am? And I thought the patriarch has to be in possession of their house’s talisman to gain its gifts. How are they returning to me if your father still has the divination talisman?”
Caene thinks for a moment. “I’m not sure, but I think since you’re the last of your line, there’s nowhere else for the gifts to go. They found you. The gods must have blessed you.”
I snort. The gods. Right.
“Why now? Why not fourteen years ago, when my father died?” I’m not sure when exactly I started believing him, I just know I do.
It all fits and explains so much about my life.
Why my mother insisted I should learn to protect myself.
Why we lived in the Rookery, even though my father was clearly wealthy.
Why I never met him. Why my mother never wanted to talk about the Exalted.
“That I can’t answer. Exalted sons are given their powers at eight years old. It’s plausible that because you were so much older than that, and the talisman was being used by another, it took time for the magic to catch up.”
Something dawns on me. He said my father’s death was ordered by Maziar. That his heir carried it out. “Who killed my father?” I ask, narrowing my eyes, ignoring the nervous tingle on my skin.
“My brother. Osper,” he says without hesitation. He looks straight into my eyes and doesn’t waver. I look for any sign of deception but find none.
I can’t wait to kill that twat weasel.
“My father is furious he’s losing the powers of the House of Divination, that the talisman, and his own body, are waning.
He’s desperate to keep the powers. He was sure Altair must have had an heir and was determined to find him.
It wasn’t until he found the midwife who kept your parents’ secret and tortured her that he found the truth.
Zave dug in her mind until he learned that their heir was female and hidden in the Rookery and what she looked like as a baby.
” I cringe, knowing from experience what she went through, feeling for a woman I’d never known.
“He sent my brothers and me to find you and bring you back. We brought a few women back that might have fit the description Zave gave of the baby from the midwife’s mind before my brothers found you.
They didn’t last long. But you were stronger.
” My blood turns to ice. How many women went through that?
“My father wants to use you. When you were near death in those dungeons, the talisman was the weakest it has ever been. He thinks he’ll find something in you that he can harness and will be able to continue to use the divination talisman.
He thinks that since you’re gaining the gifts back without the talisman, you know the key to transferring the powers permanently. ”
“I don’t!” I jump up from my seat. “I don’t know anything.
I just had a dream one night that happened to come true.
I was always a skilled fighter but I just thought it was because I was fast, not that I was sensing their moves before they made them.
I don’t know!” I’m starting to panic. My chest is aching, it is getting hard to breathe, and I’m talking fast and high.
I shake my hands to try to relieve the buzzing sensation blossoming in them, then start to pace back and forth in a tight pattern.
“I know,” he says, soothing. “Look at me.” I stop my pacing and look him in the eye, the green of them somehow calming, but my hands refuse to stop shaking.
“I swear to you, to the gods above, the goddesses on earth, and to Death himself below, I will not let my father or brothers get their hands on you again. I know you don’t trust me yet, nor do you have any reason to.
I’ve misled you, I’ve kept the whole truth from you.
But please, trust that I would rather die than let them chain you up again. Use you. Hurt you.”
He leans over and takes my trembling hand in his. Blinding pain explodes in my head.
I open my eyes to a large room with glass cases all around.
It’s dim and dripping with dark wood. I look up.
There’s an enormous creature hanging from the tall ceiling just below a frosted skylight.
It has a giant fin and a gaping mouth. I think it’s a whale, though I’ve only ever seen one in the picture books my father would send.
Movement in my lap catches my attention.
I look down to see Caene. He’s covered in blood from a deep gouge in his neck that has a strange purple glow to it.
He’s struggling to breathe. I watch in horror as he takes his last, stuttering breath and dies in my arms.
“No.” I shake him. “No, you can’t be dead.
You can’t die! You’re invulnerable! Be invulnerable godsdamnit!
” I shake him harder. I push him off my lap and begin pumping his chest, desperate to make his heart beat again.
He doesn’t respond. My scream echoes through the enormous chamber, fading when my voice gives out.
I slam back to the present. My back is flat on the dirty tavern floor.
I look around me, trying to figure out how I got here.
People are running toward me, and the kind innkeeper is rushing over with a leather bag, a kit of some kind.
Warm hands touch my face, bringing my focus in closer to my body.
Caene is kneeling over me, brushing my hair away from my face. He looks absolutely terrified.
“Vayna? Vayna, can you hear me?” His deep voice shakes the remaining dust from my mind that these visions seem to leave behind. I try to sit up, but my head is pounding so furiously I have to lie back down on the disgusting, sticky floor.
The innkeeper is at my side, digging in his kit for something. “Well now darlin’, had a bit of a turn did we?”
“I’m fine.” I force a smile, hoping to reassure both him and Caene.
“No, you’re not. You went stiff, you stopped breathing. Call for a healer,” Caene barks at the innkeeper.
The innkeeper produces a vial of fine powder from his bag. “No need for that. This’ll fix her right up.”
He holds the vial to my nose. Immediately I wrench my face away curling toward Caene, ignoring the stab of pain behind my eyes. It smells like death and rot. “What in the abysm is that?” I ask him.
“Oh just some powdered yarrow and frankincense. Nothin’ to worry your pretty little head about.”
I eye him. There’s no way the powder is just yarrow and frankincense.
“I’m alright,” I say to him, waving the powder away and trying to sit up again. This time Caene helps me up with one hand in mine and one supporting my back.
“You really oughta take this powder miss. It’ll put you right . . .”
The innkeeper is prattling on but his voice fades into noise.
I’m caught in the snare of Caene’s gaze.
He said he would rather die than see me hurt and, despite all logic and reason, I know I feel the same.
I still don’t trust him. He’s a Montbeth and a liar besides.
But I will do what I have to do to keep him alive.
I will do whatever is necessary to keep this vision from coming to pass.
Even if it means giving myself to Maziar on a silver platter.