39. Chapter 35
Chapter 35
Caelan
W hile the lion was butchered and cooked, there was drinking. The smaller dogs, voles, and rabbits became appetizers, grilled quickly and seasoned with spices pre-mixed and brought from the kitchens of the Palace of the Suns. They circulated the great tent on small sticks alongside trays of wine.
“Bring Eave,” I told Baris. For once, I didn’t want to leave the party to fetch her myself. Nobles who’d never offered more than a polite nod before now sought me out to offer their congratulations. They pretended to have always suspected, to have always seen me as a man who hid his power behind a quiet exterior. It was such bullshit but I drank it up, feeling seen for the very first time.
Eave sensed the shift as soon as she was brought to me. She wore draping silks of deep green, suggestive but demure. It must be delightfully cool in this hot weather; I was sweating terribly in my leather armor. I should change into something fresh and formal before dinner. But once Eave came to me, I had even less desire to leave than before.
She’d attached the delicate leash I’d given her to her collar. It hung down the front of her dress, just waiting for my hand to pick it up. Good fucking girl.
“Of course I’ve always suspected,” a minor nobleman was saying to me as Eave came to my side and offered a small bow. I acknowledged her by reaching out to take the end of the leash in my hand. My heart raced as I realized that she, who already knew my secret, was about to discover that everyone else now did, too. “I had the honor of joining your party on the very first hunt where you flew your eagle, my prince. It was obvious to all who observed that your connection went deeper than that of a standard austringer. I assumed, of course, that it was simply your blood as an Havard that made it so strong. But I had a tiny inkling it was more, I must say.” He chuckled at his imaginary cleverness.
Eave’s eyes burned a hole through my head until the man wandered off and we were alone. “They know,” she said quietly. Her eyes scanned the tent, noting how many were looking at us. “What happened on the hunt?”
“Arbaaz took down a lion.”
Her brows shot up. “You revealed your magic after a lifetime of hiding?”
“My brother’s life was in danger.”
Her face became thoughtful, but something beneath the expression seemed less than pleased. No question why—she’d rather have seen my brother’s guts torn out by the beast. “You saved Amon’s life.”
“Of course.”
“That clears the blood debt between you.”
How fast she thought through every implication of my actions today. She must, for today’s revelation had robbed her of my secret. While my power over her was still as secure as the collar locked around her neck, her power over me had reduced greatly since this morning.
“It does,” I confirmed.
“Clever of you.”
I scanned her face but she looked sincere. “Thank you.”
“But that’s not the real reason you did it, is it? You’re tired of hiding.”
The damned woman could see through me as if all my masks weren’t there. Was it because she was Touched? Some Touched were seers who foresaw the future. Compared to that, it must be easy to see into a man.
“I’m hiding no longer.”
She tightened her lips.
“It doesn’t please you,” I said. I felt practically jolly. Her off-centeredness only added to my enjoyment.
“To have lost some of my power over you? Of course not.”
I grinned. “A companion should have only one power over her master, and you still have that, I assure you. This rights things between us.”
Her slight frown disagreed but she said nothing.
Ksafa was setting as the feasting table was readied for the late evening meal. My lion’s skin hung nearby to dry. The meat would soon adorn the table.
“Give it to my son,” my father commanded when the head was brought to him. Every eye turned to me and I stiffened my spine.
“What does it feel like to be out of the shadows?” Eave whispered.
I didn’t have time to answer her question before the dresser and his assistants arrived before me. They had not had time to stuff and mount the head yet. Blood still marred the glorious mane around the beast’s face. The smell of death wafted to me, reminding me of the Borderlands after a town burned.
“This prize is not mine,” I said loudly. At the first word I spoke, the crowd quieted to listen. I wasn’t used to that. “Where is Lord Massriel Fakoury?”
Massriel stepped forward to reveal himself, his natural wariness masked by a look of curiosity.
“Lord Fakoury, this hunt was called to honor your father. A great warrior, lord, and hunter. It is right that a great lion fell today, for your father was nothing less than a lion himself.” Despite my fancy words, the death of the lion at my hands did feel strangely apropos. “His absence is strongly felt.”
Massriel bowed in acknowledgment as the dresser turned a third time to present the lion’s head to him. “I will hang it in a place of honor in my manor. I hope you will come and see it, Prince Caelan.”
I bowed and the court clapped, but their attention had been stolen by the candles being lit on the lavishly set table. The table was long and thin so that as many people as possible could sit close to the emperor. We all Bowed to the Dark before we sat.
In my mother’s absence, the seat to my father’s left belonged to Amon. But I hadn’t seen him. He’d disappeared after the hunt, probably to vent his fury through some sickening act of violence.
As an honored guest of the emperor, Massriel took the seat on the emperor’s right. I sat beside Amon’s empty chair with Eave on my other side. First Priest Devan took the seat beside her. I tried not to let it annoy me.
Across from me, Lady Kassimi smiled as she swept into her chair. Her manservant stood behind her at attention despite the many servers employed by the crown. To her side, old Lord Raimon lowered himself into his chair. He was a thin man with a cane who looked ill-at-ease at the high table. He had only been elevated to Lord of the Mouth twenty cycles ago when Cassandra Cythera, wife of the Traitor and Lady of the Mouth, died. For many generations before that, his family was minor nobility in service to the Cytheran family.
Broker Kells should have that chair, I thought.
After all other guests were seated, Amon swept into the tent as if he’d disappeared solely to allow him to make a dramatic entrance. He wore his finest caftan of golden and red. His hair was still wet and his skin gleamed from scrubbing. His face was a blank mask as he bowed to my father.
“I apologize for my lateness,” he said.
My father pursed his lips and said nothing. The feast began. Metal goblets clanged against plates as impressed murmurings rose up at the spread. It was nothing short of spectacular. My father had spared no expense and the delicacy of lion only added to its richness.
The stuffed lamb was my personal favorite. Aromatic and melt-in-your-mouth, it was filled with spiced raisins and couscous and drenched in a sauce made from figs. Pickled cabbage offered a tang that contrasted well with a sweet, rich stew of root vegetables and meat broth. Roasted tomato pilaf was served with the lion meat, which had been lightly spiced and grilled so as not to overpower the meat's mild flavor.
Conversation quieted as silverware clanged and nuts crunched. Dessert followed—an array of dried fruits, fresh grapes, pastries drizzled with honey, and puddings sweet as syrup.
Beside me, Amon ate with frenzied hunger, impaling each bite of meat before consuming it. He hardly looked up from his plate.
“I’m stuffed,” Lady Kassimi said when her plate was empty. She’d eaten nearly as much as the men on either side of her. “A glorious feast, Emperor Calathan. It honors you and the fallen Lord Fakoury.”
My father acknowledged her compliment without any break in his eating.
“The Father blesses his chosen rulers with all the richness of his world,” Priest Farad intoned. He sat several seats down from her, but still shockingly close to end of the table, given the number of guests. I wondered how he'd arranged that. Certainly not with help from Devan, who glared with unmasked dislike.
“Of course,” Lady Kassimi said smoothly. “Though I do wish there was some fish.” She laughed to take the edge off the complaint. “The fish of the north are so unlike those caught in the south. I look forward to their unique flavor when I come down. How about you, Lord Raimon? Have you missed fish tonight?”
“Certainly not,” said the Lord of the Mouth. As the most southern territory of Vaharilar, the Mouth possessed a long ocean coastline. “All I ever seem to eat is fish. It’s lovely to have a change.” He nodded his thanks to my father, who’d stopped listening.
“Of course. They’re so plentiful in the Mouth,” said Lusa, as if she’d forgotten. Her eyes drifted to Eave. “How about you, my dear? Do you miss the taste of fish now that you’re in the capital?”
Eave was shocked to be addressed directly at the high table. The murmur of conversation quieted as those around us twisted to hear the prince’s new companion speak. Even the emperor put down his fork.
Eave’s cheeks grew pink and her eyes were glued to her plate. “It has been many cycles since I tasted a fish, my lady. It is hard to miss something you’ve forgotten.”
Murmurs of agreement rose around us. It was a wise answer. I put my hand on Eave’s thigh and squeezed to indicate my approval.
But Lady Kassimi adopted a look of shock. “Oh! I’m sorry—your coloring. I just assumed you were from the Mouth.”
This made everyone study Eave more closely. Lord Raimon put down his fork and peered across the table. What he saw made him grow pale. His hand began to shake, clanking the fork against his plate until he removed his hand to his lap.
I looked at Eave, expecting to see something surprising, but she looked as she always did. There was a great deal of pink in her cheeks, though, and her eyes had risen from her plate to glare at Lusa across the table.
I squeezed her thigh hard. Such a gaze was disrespectful. She only drew more attention to herself that way.
“Lord Fakoury, do you see it, too?” Lusa leaned close to Massriel, who glanced at her before looking at Eave. His eyes quickly left again. He never seemed to want to look at Eave for very long, and I didn’t know why.
“She has the look of the Cytherans,” he said at length, before returning to his food.
It was not the first time Eave had been compared to the Cytherans, who’d once ruled the Mouth. My mother had mentioned them on my first night back in the capital when she told me they’d often been taken as companions by past emperors. They’d apparently been appreciated for their masochistic tendencies. But they were all dead now.
Lusa gasped. She turned to Lord Raimon, who’d taken over the Mouth after Lady Cassandra’s death. “Lord Raimon, you knew Cassandra better than anyone. Do you see it?”
Lord Raimon was perspiring quite a lot. He swallowed before speaking. Each word came out careful and slow. “Of course, I see some of the features. The skin tone, of course, and the delicate bone structure.” He coughed.
I'd been too young to remember the Traitor and his wife, but I knew what they’d looked like. Rosa was tall and strong with blue-black hair and blue eyes. His sharp features included a strong nose and formidable jawline. Cassandra Cythera had the olive-toned skin of the south. She was small and thinly built with curling hair…like Eave. Only Eave's hair was a black so dark, Jupe's light on her strands made them look blue.
My mind raced. I was beginning to get a very bad feeling.
It can't be true, I thought.
Or maybe I just didn't want it to be.
“I was born to peasants of the Mouth,” Eave said. “I was sold as a slave when I was young; Touched are prized even when they are peasants. I’m ashamed to admit such humble beginnings at such a noble table.” She pitched her voice low to show respect, but I heard the shaking beneath that she sought to hide.
“Perhaps you’re a noble bastard,” Priest Farad suggested.
“Perhaps. I remember nothing of my parents,” Eave said, her eyes in her lap, her voice carefully even.
Amon’s fork clattered loudly onto his plate. He spun in his seat and peered around me. His eyes were piercing and full of suspicion. “How old are you?” he demanded.
Eave hesitated. “I’m not quite sure, my prince. I do apologize.”
It was not at all unusual for a peasant and a slave to not know her own age, but Amon’s eyes narrowed. Lord Raimon was on the verge of a shaking fit. My father was the only one who seemed disinterested. I felt I should say something and turn the tide of the conversation, but I didn’t know what. I had a distinct sense that I didn’t understand what was really happening here while others at the table did.
“You should not be ashamed of having climbed so high, my dear,” Priest Farad said kindly. “Even your manner of speech does you credit. Not like a peasant’s at all."
Eave's gaze darted up to him and glared as he went on.
"It is my humble opinion that traditions matter. They are how we show our devotion to the Father and the gifts he bestowed upon us eons ago. At this table, I see a traditional companion and a prince with the altaya magic of his house. The Father can only be pleased by such things.”
Eave's eyes flashed with something like betrayal before she masked it.
Lady Kassimi raised her glass. "Here, here. To the death of the gods."
The table followed in murmuring the traditional toast.
But Amon did not toast. If his gaze could burn, Eave would be on fire. “Where did you learn courtly manners?” he asked her.
Eave smoothed her hands down her thighs, accidentally brushing my hand in the process. Her palms were sweating. “I was taught as a slave so as to better please my master.”
“Which was whom?”
She swallowed. Her eyes darted to Lady Kassimi, a desperate pleading look in them, but Lusa maintained her expression of curious, detached interest.
“A rich Losian merchant. Manners are important to such men, who have climbed from nothing."
“Where is he now?”
“I do not know, my prince. He sold me cycles ago to the demon Tajawl, and I have not seen or heard of him again.”
“And now you’ve found your way into my father’s court.” Amon's voice was very cold.
I was overcome with a sudden foreboding feeling. It felt like my mount was hurtling too fast towards a jump I knew we could not crest.
Devan made a thoughtful sound, then his hand reached out to grasp Eave’s chin. I wanted to tell him to take his hands off her but I stopped myself. I didn’t want to be crushed by whatever unseen forces were moving here.
Devan turned Eave’s face towards him and studied it, his fingers tightening the longer it went on. His jaw clenched and redness flooded his face. He seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it. His eyes flew to my father, who finally looked up. They exchanged a silent communication.
My father muttered something very quietly under his breath.
“What was that, Emperor?” said Amon eagerly.
“Shut up, boy,” my father said.
Amon’s face flooded beet red.
“Raimon!” my father shouted.
The older man jumped. Then gathered himself. “Yes, Emperor?”
“She looks like a Cytheran. You know it and I know it. But she looks like someone else, too, doesn’t she? Doesn’t she, Raimon?”
Raimon swallowed. He didn’t look at Eave again. He knew the answer already, I realized. He looked almost guilty. Lusa, beside him, appeared self-satisfied. This all had been a trap, I realized. But why? Who was in on it? And how had Lady Kassimi known what even I had not?
“I believe she bears a striking resemblance to the Traitor, Great Emperor,” Raimon said. His words were full of regret, as if he did not wish to speak them.
But my father looked triumphant.
The table collectively gasped.
Lusa cocked her head as if studying Eave in detail for the very first time. “My goodness,” she said.
Eave pulled her head out of Devan's hand and lowered her gaze to her plate, but it was too late. Every eye at the table studied her as if she were a sculpture. It was my hand that reached out this time to wrench her chin up. I turned her towards me and stared at her myself, hoping to see something new in her face that would tell me it wasn't true.
But I'd seen her mark. I knew it was. She didn't even try to deny it as I stared her down. Her eyes were defeated, tears rising in them, misery etched on every line of her face.
Eave was the daughter of Marcus Rosa, the Traitor. Pieces of a puzzle fell into place, the little details and lies she'd told finally making sense. I felt like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. But fuck. I didn't even know Rosa had a daughter. She must have been only a couple of cycles old when he was killed. Where had she really been in the time since? The story of her life was obviously a lie. There was so much I didn't know.
The words Eave had spoken on the night we met rang in my memory.
“I see our names, woven together like destiny.”
“Oh? Then tell me your name, Touched.”
"Oh, can’t say my name. It’s secret, for only ravens and crows who pick at the dead to hear. Can’t say until you bleed out like me. You can’t know my name until you’re ready to die.”
“Why is that?” I had asked.
“You’ll kill me. More dishonor.”
“You wanted me to kill you. Tell me and get your wish.”
“Your wish. You’ll wish you killed me.”
Now here I sat at my father’s high table with my heart beating out of my chest. Only this afternoon, I’d flown high on the triumph of my great reveal.
Now I stood on a precipice, hardly able to breathe.
Bringing the Traitor’s daughter to feast beside the crown prince and the emperor was an act of treason. Not knowing her identity was no excuse; I’d known she was a rebel and a liar. It should’ve been enough to stop me from bringing her to court, but it hadn’t been. It was an unforgivable error in judgment.
My father pushed back his chair and stood. “You will tell us all your true name, slave, for if you don’t, I will have your skin flayed from your body by my dresser right here and now.”
Eave shivered in fear. Her eyes darted from me to Lusa to Priest Farad and the other faces along the crowded table. She looked utterly terrified. The self-possessed woman was gone.
“You will obey my father or I’ll do the flaying myself,” I said quietly. Anger had frozen my heart to ice.
"Tell the truth, child," Priest Farad advised.
Eave swallowed. Closed her emerald eyes. Tried to gather herself and still her quivering lip. At length, she answered: “My name is Raven Rosa, daughter of the Traitor, Marcus Rosa.”
There was an uproar around the table. Chairs toppled as nobles rose to their feet. Amon drew his sword and I thought he might behead Eave right then and there. A stab of terror pierced my chest and I acted without thinking.
I shoved Eave’s— Raven’s —chair over, toppling her to the ground. She cried out in shock and then pain as her body landed. I stalked out of my seat and stood over her, glaring down.
“Did you think you could use me to infiltrate my father’s court?” I roared. I kicked her in the stomach. She cried out, but I blunted the pity and guilt that rose in me in answer. If I did not put on a show of punishing her, Amon or my father would do it. That would be infinitely worse. I knew where to kick to avoid damage. I kicked her again.
Then I reached down to grab her by the neck. I lifted her and she began to choke. Her fingers flew up to scratch uselessly at mine. Those beautiful emerald eyes bulged with fear and pain. They begged me to stop. I twisted so all the court could see.
“What did you think? That I’d let you roam the palace freely? That you’d be able to find your way into my father’s chambers and kill him as your father failed to do all those cycles ago? Did you think you could be something here other than a slave at the end of a Slayer’s leash?”
I let go of her neck and she gasped in a ragged breath, but it quickly left her in an anguished moan. She fell to her knees in the grass and I put my boot to her back, forcing her down further. I ground her pretty face into the mud churned up by the toppled chairs.
“That’s where you’ll stay, if you are even allowed to live,” I shouted. My boot pressed down, making her eat dirt. But I needed to make sure she could still breathe.
I tugged her leash to raise her head and allow her to gasp in a breath, but I kept my boot on her lower back. Her back arched. It looked painful. Tears streamed down a face covered with mud. I kicked her again.
“You’re nothing, do you understand that? A slave, and nothing more. Kiss my boots. Go on. Kiss them.”
I gave her some slack on the leash and she rose with alacrity to her hands and knees. She crawled to my boots and bent to kiss them. She was sobbing uncontrollably. It sounded nothing like it had when I’d toyed with her in the dungeon. This was true pain. This was brokenness.
Her tongue snaked out to lick my boots, but her face only dirtied them. I made a sound of disgust and kicked her away. She sobbed as my boot contacted her chin, but I was careful not to kick hard enough to bruise.
I bent to take her once more by the throat. Then I turned and faced my father.
I bowed very deeply before him, dragging Raven with me. She was not quite on her knees. Her weight hung heavy in my hand, which squeezed her neck. She was thrashing, struggling, making awful choking sounds.
But I felt nothing. No pity. No arousal. Nothing but fury and a detached sense of practicality. I couldn't afford to feel anything else.
“Emperor,” I said without releasing her. “I was blind. I brought a traitor to your table. Whatever you tell me to do, I will do.”
My father seemed shocked by my display of violence. Or perhaps it was a Rosa coming back into his life that had unseated him from his usual sense of his own authority. He stared at the choking girl in my hand.
“My son,” he said slowly.
I released Raven’s throat so she wouldn’t die. She fell to the ground and lay there, sobbing quietly.
My heart raced but my mind was empty. This was nothing if not a battle.
“Today, you proved yourself to be a true Havard. You felled a lion with your Imperial eagle, as emperors of our line have before you. Now, you show your power again to the Traitor’s bitch on the end of your leash.”
I blinked in surprise. Far from being angry, my father was smiling.
“It was admittedly reckless to bring her to my court. But I understand the power Cytheran women have always had over men like us.” His eyes caressed the shaking back of the sobbing slave-girl at my feet. “But the power of the Cytheran witches is no more! The power of the Rosas is no more! And the power of the Havards is everlasting. Here she is—the blood of the Traitor—on my son’s leash! See her and remember! Let it be known to all who might think the throne is weak. We are not weak! You wish to threaten us? Look down and see your destiny.”
All eyes descended on Raven. She had regained her breath, but she was still rocked with quiet sobs. Feeling the eyes on her, she raised her head. But seeing everyone looking at her only made her cry harder.