65. Chapter 59
Chapter 59
Caelan
W hen my father’s guards announced my arrival at his office, I heard him shouting through the heavy wooden door, demanding to know how I’d snuck into his palace.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” I reminded Baris before the door opened. He’d be waiting outside with my father’s guards in a standoff that was sure to prove uncomfortable.
“Me?!” Baris feigned innocence. Though I would have liked to know he was with Raven, keeping her safe, I was grateful to have him by my side. He was the one person loyal to me that I hadn’t successfully banished or nearly gotten killed. Yet.
The guards made me disarm. Every blade, even the small dagger in my boot. It didn't matter—my skin, my hands, my entire body was a weapon.
My father was glowering when I walked into his office. He’d shoved all the scrolls on his desk into a large, disorderly pile, the full measure of his displeasure focused on me.
How many times had he glared at me with this familiar expression? It was beyond counting. All I’d wanted as a boy was to please him, but I never could. Now, maybe, I knew why.
The door clicked shut behind me.
“Are you going to tell me how the fuck you snuck through my city and into my palace without being seen?” he snarled.
“No.”
My father pursed his lips and the natural redness in his face darkened. It was going to be crimson by the time we were through.
“My guard tells me you’ve arrived with no entourage, no empress, and no companion. My reports say your mother is dead. Some reports say you killed her. That your own companion turned on you and you defended her. What the fuck happened?”
“The empress is not dead. And she’s not my mother.”
My father glared at me, his beady eyes narrowed on me as if assessing a threat.
“I have also received reports that you burned like a damned Tajawl on the field in front of everyone.” There was no doubt it was an accusation.
“You can’t be surprised. You must have known all my life that Ead Tajawl was my mother.”
My father’s face grew redder, veins bulging in his neck. He seemed to be holding his breath. He clenched his fist until his skin turned white. I thought he might burst. But then he deflated and fell back against his chair. He looked almost relieved. “How did you find out?”
“Nahome Obsan accused me of being a halfling. That was before Mother was injured and I cauterized her wound, saving her life. I’m responsible for her old burns, too, aren’t I?”
“Of course.”
I felt sick. My mother’s chest. Her hands. I’d done that to her as she cradled me against her breast.
I was a monster.
“Your mother was perfect, actually." Now that the truth had been spoken openly, my father relaxed, leaning back in his chair, his tone as casual as if we discussed the weather. Meanwhile, my mind was spinning as every word he spoke filled in blank spaces in the story of my own life. "She’d just lost a child and couldn’t bear another. She’d accept any child as her own, even a demon. Her love for you was more than I'd hoped for. After you killed three wet nurses, she fed you herself. Ruined her body. Disgusting. But admirable.”
I felt shaky and sat in a chair.
“I am the abomination,” I whispered.
My father scoffed. “Prophecies. I’ve never thought much of them. But others are weaker-minded.”
“Marcus Rosa. He knew I was the abomination spoken of in The Tapestry Unweaving. The child of bird and dragon. He thought it meant I was the Arbiter of the Reckoning, too. That the two figures were one and the same. That’s the reason he rose up against you.”
An expression that merged fury and hatred with regret overtook the emperor’s face. I thought he’d spit with rage when he spoke, but his voice was quiet instead. The regret had won out. “Marcus was my best friend. Practically a brother. He was the one to capture your mother in the Bald Peaks.”
“But you were the one to rape her.”
The emperor made eye contact with no shame in his eyes. “She was the so-called queen of the demons. She was my prisoner. What the fuck else would I do with her? I tortured her, too. Of course I fucking did.”
His confession washed over me and I waited for it to shift something inside of me, waited for my eyes to see him differently than I had before, for feelings of shock and disbelief to rise up. None of it happened. I had always known he was a monster. And I'd chosen his side, obeyed his wishes, even sought his approval anyway, because he was my family. My father.
But Ead Tajawl was my family, too. And he'd tortured and violated her.
"She's dead?"
"Died giving birth to you." He seemed to enjoy saying the words. Enjoy hurting me. No surprise there either.
“Why didn’t you kill me when I was born?”
“You’re my son!” He shouted this fiercely, stabbing his finger at the ground. He said it like he’d said it many times before, perhaps in this very room. Perhaps to the Traitor who would betray him. “Father be damned but that means something. We are bound in blood, you and me. I would not kill my own damned son!” He huffed, breathed out, gathered himself. “And for that, Marcus tried to steal my empire from me.”
"So it's true." I had to speak the words. They were practically unbelievable, even after days of time to contemplate them. “The Traitor’s Rebellion was about me. Rosa wanted you to kill me and you wouldn’t.”
My father snorted. “You think ‘emperor’ is such a powerful thing, but it’s fragile as an infant’s skull. A hint of weakness and those closest to you will topple you. That’s what love is—weakness. The love of a friend. The love of a son. And your demon blood—more weakness. The demons were crushed and defeated a thousand cycles ago and still haven’t managed to stand back up again. Pathetic. Her blood in you is why you can’t understand power.”
“Your blood in me is stronger than you think. I’m an altayr, remember?”
“How could I forget? Power you hid for decades. That you were afraid of. You're a fucking coward.”
“Because when I tried to show it to you, you tore my bird apart limb from limb! You made it clear there was no greater crime than embracing the power that flows from my Havard blood!” I was shouting now, all the words I’d always wanted to say to him pouring out.
“Because I didn’t want Marcus to be right!” my father screamed. Then he sat back, defeated by his own explosion, huffing breath after breath. “Have you read the damned thing?”
“Yes.” I knew he meant the prophecy.
He shook his head, disgusted. “So much for burning every copy. For killing every priest and scholar and Touched who’d seen it. Well, fine, then. The Ravager’s Rider flies to him. That’s what it says. I tried to tell Marcus it had to be a demon. Someone with old Rider blood. ‘But eagles have wings, too,’ he said. So I kept you from the mews and I made the prophecy disappear.
“I stopped the raids into Los, where my soldiers might stumble across a Tajawl who could burn. If you lost control, I had to be able to say it was your Hagos blood. Couldn't do that if everyone knew the Tajawl magic was alive and well. So I killed and killed until their power was a myth. Until the prophecy wasn't even a memory. I practically lost my empire trying to protect you.
“And then I waited. I looked for reasons to be proud of you. Hoped to see my blood was stronger in you than hers was. Hoped you were worth all I paid to keep you. But you never were. At times, I’ve thought I should’ve let Marcus murder you. You cost me enough and have paid back little.”
It was shameful how hurtful the words were to hear. I’d been stabbed and sliced by blades but his belittlement hurt more. Until it didn't.
A roar of rage and rebellion grew loud inside my mind. The soft spots where he'd cut me crystallized, turning to steel. What the fuck did I care what this monster thought of me? Only another monster would earn his approval.
I vowed right then and there to never try to please him again. Whatever he abhorred, I would be. Not to spite him. But because his cruelty and selfishness were like a compass needle, pointing the wrong way with unerring accuracy.
It was time to go see Tanead. He would probably laugh in my face when I proposed an alliance, but I'd bring him around.
To do that, I just had to get out of here without being arrested. And right now, I wasn't exactly doing a great job of convincing my father I was loyal.
“You hid from me who I was, but I found my way to the truth anyway. You treated me like half a son, but it’s me and not Amon who carries the same blood-power that allowed Calathan the Conqueror to slay Archeon. You say I don’t understand power, but I do. I understand that it’s not always a blessing," I said.
My father was quiet. He turned to the window to look out. I couldn’t read him anymore. “Tanead Tajawl has escaped,” he said.
The declaration hit me like a shock of cold water. “When?”
"Nine days ago.”
“And he hasn’t been recaptured?”
“No. They can’t even tell me how he got out. Apparently my palace isn’t as secure as I thought.” He glared.
“He’ll be going to meet his dragon at Archeon.”
“Yes. And he’ll find a company of soldiers there ready to kill them both.”
“Don’t,” I said.
My father sneered, a look of self-satisfied rage overtaking his features. He sat back in his chair and studied me derisively. “I knew it. I called you back here because I hoped—but it doesn’t matter now.”
“It’s not that. The Ravager has risen." I injected my words with confidence and just a hint of drawling distain. If I wanted out of this room without dragonstone shackles around my wrists, I had to wear the most convincing mask of my life.
The emperor scoffed.
“Raven and Nahome both confirmed it.”
“Two traitors. Worthless.”
“Then go ask a Touched who is loyal to the Temple,” I snapped. “The threat is real. The time of the Unweaving has come. I am not the Arbiter—” Gods, I hoped Raven was right about that. Hoped against hope that all the many people who thought I was were wrong. “—but someone is. And the dragons are our best chance to fight. We must ally ourselves with the Losians to face the greater threat.”
My father laughed. “All those cycles of your childhood spent in the library and you’re still stupid. The Ravager is one of the dragons Reborn. Tanead probably is the fucking Arbiter. You should have killed him on the plains of Los.” He shook his head, scolding himself. “ I should have killed him as soon as he got here.”
“That’s what Junaid said. He tried to kill me in Los after he urged me to kill Tanead and I refused. He said the Traitor was right all along. That the Ravager could not be allowed to find his Rider. I thought for a while he meant Tanead. But now, I think he meant me.”
My father’s eyes grew very wide. I’d delivered the news with a dull voice, no longer afraid to tell him the truth of what had happened. It felt so small beside all the other horrible truths and I was tired of secrets.
“How did you do it?” he asked gruffly.
“I slit his throat. It was quick.”
My father looked very old with deep wrinkles around his eyes and a sadness in them, weighing down his gaze. “It’s easy to kill men in the aftermath of a rebellion. Just say they're traitors. But I didn't kill Junaid. Your mother. A few others."
“Does Amon know?” I asked.
My father shrugged. “Tell me what happened in the Blood Lakes.”
“Lord Najjar met us at the Corpse of the Father with a full complement of men. A formal greeting. You know how he is. Was. He’s dead.”
The emperor grunted.
“While we were there, the Ravager hijacked Raven and Nahome. They went into some sort of trance during his birth. Raven stabbed me.” A slight misrepresentation, but basically true. “When my men turned on her, Nahome called for her protection and half of Najjar’s men were with her. She’d brought a secret rebel cell to greet us and they tore through Najjar’s forces. My mother was injured. I defeated Nahome and the rebels and we retreated to the Fakoury manor. I was gravely injured. It’s only because of my guard, Baris, that we made it there.”
I waited for some sort of acknowledgment but received nothing.
“I was out cold for days and when I woke, I received your message and came straight here.”
“Without passing through the palace gates,” my father noted.
I shrugged. “Wasn’t sure if you’d have me arrested as a traitor. I’m still not.”
My father assessed me, his expression cold. This man was a rapist and a murderer many times over. Yet he’d also gone to great lengths to save my life. Baffling, considering he’d never shown me any actual love or affection. I had not a clue what was going through his mind right now and finally, for the first time, I didn’t care.
“Where’s your companion?” he asked finally.
“In Massriel’s dungeon with Nahome Obsan and the other traitors,” I lied.
My father sized me up. "Are you a traitor?"
"If I was, I wouldn't have come back. I would already be raising banners against you. You may not think much of me, but I'm not afraid of a fight." I thought of Broker's advice to me before he was lost in the Borderlands and drew on the truth to tell a lie. "I've been told my solution to everything is to stab it. Yet here you sit with no wound in your gut. There are no guards in this room to stop me. You let them stay outside even though you know I'm faster than you. Even though my very hands are a weapon. I think it's because you know I'm no traitor. Never have been. Let me prove it. If you say Tanead is the Arbiter, let me kill him."
My father's eyes narrowed and he sat in thought for several long moments. “Maybe I've always been stupid when it comes to you. Too hopeful, too…" His mouth quirked. "…weak. But I will allow you to walk out this door. Join the forces at Archeon. Kill the dragon. Kill Tanead. I want to hear that you did it with your own bloody hands. But know this: The time has come for one of you to die. The choice is yours. If you fail to kill Tanead this time, best turn and greet the army that will come for you. They will have orders to kill you both.”
“Yes, Emperor. Thank you,” I said. Elation flooded me and I dampened it down so that it would not show on my face. I rose to leave but hesitated at the door, thinking of my upcoming confrontation with Tanead. An overwhelming feeling seized me that life was cyclical. We were all just playing out the same dramas, over and over. Brothers standing on opposite sides with a throne in the middle.
“How did you defeat Marcus? What happened on the Night of a Thousand Torches?”
A little smile crawled up my father’s face. It looked like one of Amon’s but his eyes were far away, lost in a fond memory. “I exploited his weakness. Everybody loves someone.”
I grasped the handle, but my father called my name once more. One more blow to deliver.
“She’s not his daughter, you know.”
I turned back and his face was self-satisfied.
“Your companion. Raven Rosa. Or whatever her real name is. She’s not his daughter.”
Another impossible revelation. My mind could not hold them all. My sanity was leaking out the edges like an overfilled cup. “How do you know?”
He smiled. “Raven Rosa died with her father. I threw them both into the pit myself.”
My body felt heavy but my mind whirred like a child’s top.
Raven wasn’t Raven.
My mother wasn’t my mother.
I wasn’t me.
I didn’t know anything anymore.
“How did it go?” Baris asked.
“Supposedly we’ll be allowed to walk out of here,” I muttered.
“Weren’t we going to go…somewhere else?” His gaze darted down.
“Tanead has escaped. We hunt him and his dragon.”
“Do we?” Baris asked.
I didn’t answer, only charged through the halls, stopping for nothing. Until a familiar, drawling voice called my name. In another life, I’d feared the man it belonged to, but I had bigger things to fear than him now.
I turned to my brother.
“You get to go after the dragon after all. Finally.” He mocked my thwarted desire, but I no longer cared about such things.
“You were the one torturing Tanead. Did he say anything that might give you a clue where he’d go, if he were to escape?”
“He’d go home. To his dragon, to his little demon army. Isn’t it obvious?” Amon said.
“Yes, it is,” I said.
Amon’s eyes searched the empty space around me as if he might’ve missed something that wasn’t there. A smile widened on his face. “Where’s your whore?”
Heat spread through my muscles. I imagined for the first time what it would be like to burn him. I could press my palms to his face as Tanead had once done to me and make him scream like he made others scream. Like he once made me scream.
I took a step forward and permitted my loathing to show on my face. Every fucking bit of it. My skin grew hot as I allowed the magic to pour into my blood. I imagined my eyes turning coal-red, like Tanead's when he burned, and I knew from Amon's widening eyes when they did.
“You will never touch her," I growled.
His smile only broadened.
I thought of snapping his neck right here. Or touching his face and watching the skin melt off. I might hate my father but I was like him in one way—I was a sadist, and it would fill me with joy to watch Amon hurt and crumble and perish. The world would be a better fucking place.
But if I gave in to the impulse, Tanead and his dragon would likely be killed by the Vaharilaran forces at Archeon before I could intervene.
I forced my blood to calm and the heat to seep away. “Do you have a purpose here? I’m rather busy.”
Amon smirked in triumph. “No purpose. Only a question. I have a curiosity, you see.”
I waited for him to finish toying with me. All Amon cared about were his little games and manipulations. Once, they’d felt so important. Today, they felt small.
“I was wondering what you think it will feel like to kill your brother.”
I kept my face a mask. His wording was deliberate. It was not just a game but a test.
Amon grasped my shoulder and pulled me close. He whispered in my ear. “When you get back, I’ll show you the room where your mother died.”
I ripped myself away.
To my surprise, Amon didn’t laugh. He usually did after he got a rise out of me, but this time he grew very serious. His eyes bored into me. His lip curled in disgust. “Demon,” he hissed, “I’m ashamed to share blood with you. Our father should’ve killed you in the cradle.”
“You’re not the first to think so,” I said evenly.
“But he didn’t. And now you go to kill your own brother. You think that’ll make him proud, don’t you? You think if you kill the beast and the demon, your nature will be forgiven. But all it’ll do is make you a brother-killer, Caelan. Go ahead and become a brother-killer. See what happens after you cross that line.” His mouth curled into an animalistic snarl. His teeth gleamed.
Amon would see what happened, I vowed. But the brother I planned to kill was not Tanead.