Chapter 53 #2
Dritan held his hand toward the fireplace, and it roared to life beneath the mantel. He’d inherited his mother’s flames.
Lark looked between the two of us with a smirk. “That went well.”
It hadn’t for me, but I wouldn’t sully for them that most of the nobles had taken the news with glee.
Dritan wrapped his arms around her shoulders and slumped into her. “Only you could think so.”
“I have to agree with him,” I sighed out.
“No fair—you two aren’t supposed to plot against me.” The Princess pouted. Lark’s cheeks flushed pink as Dritan squeezed her midsection.
My son met my gaze over her head. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Emmerick. For standing with us, for honoring what we want.”
My chest swelled to see them here together.
They were so damn young. I remembered a time when holding her mother like that in privacy had filled my heart with the same type of invincible hope.
“Of course,” I said. “I am here for the both of you—whatever you need.”
Lark leaned back into Dritan, and he broke his attention from me to smile down at her.
“I need a miracle. I am pretty certain that I won’t be leaving this castle alive,” he grumbled.
Lark huffed a laugh. “Ah, you mean my father? He’ll grow used to the idea of not killing you. That’s just a baseline impulse for him with most people. Plus, now he knows he can’t since we’re bound.”
No such luck for me.
I shifted from one foot to the other, hating that I would ruin the moment. “We have some things to discuss before anyone kills us all,” I said as I settled onto the edge of my bed. Lark pried herself from Dritan’s arms and pulled up the chair from my weapons table and a stool from the fireplace.
Once they’d sat, Lark met my gaze. “Should we get Aunt El?”
My jaw stiffened, and I shook my head. “No. She seems preoccupied tonight.”
My stomach lurched. While she should be in this bed next to me, sobering up enough to discuss our future, she was who knows where.
I should have run after her, should have stopped her.
Lark’s gaze softened. “She’s not acted like that in a long time. In truth, I’ve only heard stories about her wilder years. Did something happen?”
I sighed. To my dismay, whatever had or had not transpired between Elsedora and me needed to be tabled.
For now.
“She likely just needs to blow off some steam,” I justified, and I loathed the resentment in my tone. “That’s not what we need to discuss.”
I cleared my throat, and Dritan fished in his pocket and withdrew a golden stone before flipping it between his fingers. The inability to sit still hadn’t skipped a generation.
“I believe the Sources are conspiring against Caym from whatever in-between place they live in,” I said.
Lark leaned forward. “Conspiring how?”
“Well, we’ve learned time and time again that the natural Sources can interfere with what happens to us. Your Aunt Asterie was saved multiple times, and I don’t believe that they pair Source Matches flippantly. They draw us together for a purpose.”
I glanced at Dritan, who nodded, seeming to catch my meaning.
Despite Firose’s worst actions, despite her having hurt so many of the people I loved, he still existed.
Our magic had mingled in that tempting, intoxicating way, and it had turned into the only emotion we were capable of in that moment—lust.
Our Source Match had brought him into this world.
Dritan stilled. “Do you feel they have our best interests in mind or their own?”
I shook my head. “There’s no way to tell. But they have their plans either way. When Elsedora and I explored a sea cave in Eros, we found an entity that claimed to be Aquas.”
Lark’s eyes widened. “You met the Water Source?”
My stare locked with Dritan’s, and he seemed to be growing uneasy. Then I nodded. “Yes, he wanted us to bring him the last relic, but the relic is not an object... it’s a person—Dritan…”
Lark shot up from her seat. “We’ll do no such thing.”
Dritan motioned for her to sit. “Larkspur, listen to him. Wait... me?”
I drew a deep breath. “Isolde created two of the relics herself. But the last, she sought help from the Sources to craft.” I stared at my son, wishing for any other truth.
I continued, “You are the last relic. Your existence stops the black moon from occurring. Caym may try to rise, but he will not do so with Isolde’s power of compulsion so long as you live.”
“Me?” Dritan’s eyes widened. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck.
His mannerisms were so familiar; they reminded me of my father’s, despite them never having met. They resembled me.
“What am I to do?” Dritan asked.
I sighed. “I don’t know—but you two finding one another is no coincidence, as happy as your union might be.”
Lark huffed as though wanting to disagree.
The whole thing felt risky. If it were up to me, I’d bar him from going. That right wasn’t mine.
“So, with me, we have all three relics,” Dritan mused. “That is good, is it not?”
I shrugged. “It could be... but we’re no closer to answers of how to defeat Caym before he finds a way out of that mirror.”
“Then, I will go to Aquas,” Dritan concluded.
I sighed. “It could be a trap,” I warned, wanting so badly to deter him.
“What harm can it do, if we already know so little?” he answered. Lark nodded along to his words, seeming to warm to his idea of going.
I wouldn’t allow him to run toward danger without understanding what he was up against. “The Sources let your mother die instead of saving her. They let Lark’s Uncle Ryn die, too—and so many others in Sahlmkar, and my father…”
It was the first time I’d referred to the late Mattock as anything other than the North King. A lump the size of a ball of yarn grew in my throat.
“More will die if we do nothing, though, won’t they?” Dritan asked. “If I can help, I want to.”
At this rate, I’d rub the back of my neck raw with worry. His intentions were noble, brave.
Any father should be proud.
“We go together, then,” Lark agreed. “Tomorrow afternoon. I’ve had enough prophetic excitement for one night, and we should get our rest.”
“It will be risky,” I warned again.
“We risk our death, or we risk the death of all,” Lark said and met my gaze. “Time ticks against us either way. With all respect, Emmerick, this is our decision to make.”
She rose and extended her hand to Dritan. “Husband, shall we go rest up at Lamoreaux?”
Dritan huffed a laugh. “You mean, shall we go hide out? Gladly.”
I watched helplessly as they linked fingers.
There wouldn’t be any forgiveness if something happened to either of them.
“Wait for me before you two lovebirds go face a Source Origin, please.”
Lark smirked, agreeing before they slipped out of my bedchamber. I wouldn’t sit here and sulk alone.
My next hard conversation this evening would be worse.
When I worked up the nerve to go back downstairs, the party had ended. Maids rolled away piles of linens on a cart. Trays of empty glasses and plates floated off toward the kitchen, charmed to clean themselves.
Sybilla, seemingly determined to wear a track into the marble, paced the length of the ballroom. She threw her arms up with a frustrated growl that sounded like all the curse words she could think of at once.
Krait sat on the fourth step from the bottom of the grand staircase, quietly watching her. He let her stew in her rage—I’d once tried to quell it, to comfort her. He seemed to better understand what she needed.
I didn’t give him time to accost me before I trotted down the steps past him. “The boy is my and Firose’s son. We were married in the Central Tower when she captured me and Asterie. So he’s a legitimate heir.”
Krait shot a dagger-like glare my way as he groaned and rose. I hoped Lark had inherited most of his Shadow power at this point.
I didn’t want to be turned to pulp tonight. Though maybe I deserved it.
“You had a child with the woman who destroyed my city,” Sybilla said. “What kind of man beds someone who tried to slaughter his people?”
I stood taller. “Might I remind you that Firose was under Caym’s influence when she attacked your city? Just like I was when I killed Sheffield, or Haward, or countless others,” I argued. “Yet you wish me back on that throne.”
I jutted a finger toward the throne room.
She didn’t get to be hypocritical.
Krait sighed and descended the remaining few steps, then he crossed the room to his wife and took her hand.
“There’s nothing that can be done now. I gave Hurley an earful for not telling us sooner, but I don’t believe we would have been able to stop them even if we’d tried.
” His tone didn’t hold the same contempt for the situation that Sybilla’s did.
“Where are they?” Syb pressed.
I shook my head. “She seems like a smart young woman. But she also seems to have your temper. Are you sure that speaking with her tonight is the right move?”
She balled her fists and huffed another curse beneath her breath.
“When did you find out?” Krait asked.
“About which part?”
“All of it,” he grunted.
I recounted everything from the beginning, sparing no detail, sharing even the painful ones about what Caym had been doing to me while asleep. I laid every soul-crushing moment at their feet. Sybilla’s eyes watered when I got to the part about Ryn visiting me in the in-between.
“Something tugged at me when I saw Dritan in the mirror the night they unbound me from Caym,” I concluded. “I was nearly convinced he was my son then, before ever speaking with Ryn.”
Their expressions turned to shock and worry.
“He was with Lark when she unbound you?” Syb asked.
I nodded, and Krait grumbled something that sounded an awful lot like fucking Elsedora.
A new ache sprouted in my chest. If they didn’t know, then that meant El had protected him that night.
“They saved me,” I said. “The two of them got to me just in time. As for the part about their being wed, I only learned that at the start of our tour. Lark has known Dritan was the heir of the North Corridor for far longer. You’ll need to speak with her about it—when your heads are level.”
Krait slumped and sat on the edge of the stage. The castle had put half of the sconces out. I couldn’t tell if the shadows around him stemmed from the dim lighting or his turmoil.
“Who thought having a child at this age was wise?” he grumbled.
Sybilla smirked. “Did you think any child of ours was going to be easy to raise?”
Krait glanced my way. “Send our daughter home. I suspect she’s holed up at the estate in Belray. We’ll speak with her and your son... civilly in the morning. And tell El she’s got a lot of explaining to do.”
I flexed my hand at my side. “Do you know where she went?”
“No,” Sybilla said and winced. “But I fear El’s behavior tonight might have been my fault.”
Sources, what had she done? I knew something had happened between turning my wildflower to putty and watching her leave on the arm of another as if none of it had mattered at all.
Krait’s interest piqued. “What behavior?”
“You truly didn’t notice? She was out of sorts—acting like the old El,” she answered.
“Old El?” he questioned.
Syb rolled her eyes.
I swallowed hard—what Lark had said rang true. I’d suspected something had triggered El’s shift in mood. “What happened?” I asked, interrupting their bickering.
Sybilla sighed. “I made a comment that upset her, and she resorted to chugging my wine and quitting her role as your advisor, rather than fighting about it. I haven’t seen her that way in decades.”
I stilled.
Quitting her role as my advisor?
No.
“What did you say to her?” It came out harsher than I’d intended, and the room grew a touch darker. So the Shadows were coming from Krait. I wouldn’t be scared off by him—not when his wife had gone meddling in my business. Again.
Sybilla’s arms hung at her sides. “I simply told her I didn’t see the two of you together. And that she’d ‘eat your heart out.’”
Krait ran a hand down his face. “Sources, Sybilla.” His tone was laced with irritation. He was an unlikely ally in my exasperation.
The blood pumped hot in my veins, and my jaw tightened. I’d been mad at Sybilla Wymark plenty of times. She’d been dishonest with me for years, she’d lied to me about my lineage, she’d chosen another.
I could forgive her for most of it.
But if this ruined my chances of even vying for Elsedora’s love? She would find no forgiveness.
“That is not for you to judge. You do not get to weigh in on matters of my heart,” I growled out. “Do you understand?”
Sybilla nodded with wide eyes. For once, she actually looked sorry.
“What you do or don’t ‘see’ is not a concern of mine. You spoke out of line.” I clenched and unclenched my fists. “And you hurt her.”
The last part landed like a blow to Sybilla’s stomach. She hunched with a hand placed at her neck—a nervous tell. She knew she stood in the wrong here.
Krait sighed before he cut in, “Unfortunately, I can see it. The two of you.”
My head tilted as I tried to understand how the Sahlms’ King, who’d once loathed me, could imagine me and his dearest friend together when even Sybilla could not.
He met my gaze. “Maybe look past whatever mistakes El’s bound to make until she can see it. She’s lost so much. She is worthy of someone fighting for her.”
At last, Darvanda and I finally agreed on something.