“It concerns your father.”
Fire shot through the Prince’s body, gathering in his fingers and toes and lifting the hair on his arms and neck. His vision narrowed in on the Elder to theexclusion of all else. The fuzzy feeling in his head was replaced with the sharp, cold sense of a well-honed razor.
“My father?”
The Elder nodded. “Twenty years ago, your father was sent on a mission to the Empire.”
“Mission?”
“Yes. He and hisashandelpartner were Rogue scouts.”
“He was… my father was an Exile?”
Crane nodded.
“One of our most skilled Spellblades, born here to Exiled parents. His father died before he was born, and his mother, your grandmother, died in childbirth. He was raised by all of the Kindred, as our orphans are; he was everyone’s son, everyone’s brother. He was the last of his line, and he was treated with respect because he showed such promise.
“It was thought that he died on his mission to Lucien. The last report we had from him and hisashandelsaid that they were infiltrating the Fortress itself. He no doubt sent it when he did knowing we wouldn’t be able to stop him. He was smart and headstrong, and in the years since I have often thought that we should have waited to send him out… but hisashandelwas older than he, as was customary, and it was thought that the two of them were so well paired that this would be our first chance to see the inner workings of the Imperial Fortress with your father’s skill and hisashandel’s experience.
“Their message was the last we heard of them. What we have learned since is that your father infiltrated the Most High and was brought into an audience with the Empress herself, where it is rumored he fell in love. He became her consort, though we cannot be certain whether it was for true love or in an audacious attempt to gain information. In any case, once you were born and found to be a viable Child of the Empress, she had your father killed. It is a perverse sign of the respect she had for him that he was killed by a BladeMaster, not by the Death Watchmen; he was thought too dangerous for anyone else to handle.”
The Prince had to work moisture back into his mouth before speaking.
“How do you know all of this?” he asked.
The Elder looked to Tomaz and raised an eyebrow. The big man, face white and eyes wide, nodded the barest fraction, and the Elder continued.
“This information came to us when Tomaz joined the Kindred.”
The Prince looked up at the big man, whose face was now a mask of grief and pain as well as unquestionable shame.
“What does he mean?” the Prince asked Tomaz. The big man took a deep breath, his brows drawn and his mouth turned down at the edges; his black eyes bore a deep sorrow, making him look suddenly much older than his years.
“I told you I was asked to commit an act that led me to betray the Empire.”
The Prince nodded numbly.
“That act was to kill the Empress’s consort and his traveling partner. To kill your father and hisashandel.”
His eyes locked onto the Prince’s, wordlessly asking for forgiveness and understanding, but not expecting it. It was clear that no matter what pardon the Prince could try to give, Tomaz had already judged himself.
“That’s why you wouldn’t let me leave in the mountains,” the Prince said softly. “That’s why you came back for me in the Seeker’s dungeon, and that’s why you took the blow from Ramael’s axe that should have killed me. You thought you were in my debt.”
Tomaz nodded. He cleared his throat gruffly and shifted his weight, putting his hands on his hips; the Prince realized the big man was close to tears.
“I can never bring your father back,” Tomaz said, his voice rough and heavy with years of regret, “but when we found you in the mountains, I made it my duty to protect you. I couldn’t save your father, but I could save you. Even if it meant saving you from yourself.”
There was a long moment when no one spoke. The Prince’s mind was blank. Fatigue and shock had addled him.
“But what does any of this have to do with the sword?” Leah asked.
Elder Crane nodded and continued.
“The sword was the first valerium weapon forged, but also the first sword enchanted as a Spellblade’s weapon. Being a valerium weapon, the link forged was much more powerful than anticipated, and when Aemon died, we found that none could touch the blade. Aemon had a power in his blood, the seed of the same power that the Empress has. They brought it with them from across the Sea, and when they settled here that power began to dim. The Empress found a way to sustain that power, but Aemon fled before he could learn from her and his power died out, though some trace of it remained in his blood; when he came here and found valerium, and used his blood to bind it to him, that dormant seed grew and blossomed, allowing him to fight and defeat the Tyrant when she invaded. That seed was, we believe, passed down from him to his son, from that son to his daughter, and so on and so forth until your father.”
Leah and Tomaz both looked as though they’d been punched in the gut. The Elder fell silent as he gave them time to absorb this piece of information.
“But the line died with Aemon,” Tomaz said. “Aemon had no children!”
