I swallowed thickly, hating myself for the answer that sat on the tip of my tongue.
“I wish I could say that I came for you, that I missed Iluul, or that I came for my legacy in these walls”—I shook my head—“but it’s much more self-serving than that. I need to use Iluul’s navy, Father. The gods . . . the gods are moving quicker than we anticipated, amassing an army the likes of which Elyria has never seen. It’s almost time to make the final stand, I can feel it in my very soul. And if we stand alone, we’ll die. All of us. Me and Ellowyn first, then they’ll come south. They’ll come and conquer every city, kill or enslave every person until they have total dominion over mortals. It truly is the end of days.”
My father was silent for a moment, contemplating my words.
“If you’re searching for the legacy of the d’Eshus, you won’t find it here. Legacy is not in the adornments you put on a building. It’s not tied to your family name or awarded based on your progeny. It’s not found in a mausoleum or from the mouths of others. Legacy is in the way you shape the world, the way you treat Elyria’s people, the impact you have.”
I smiled wistfully as I patted the old man’s knee.
“I have missed you, Father.”
“And I have missed you, my son. But you were never meant for Iluul. You weremade for Elyria, for its people. For that woman who loves you and you love in return. Made to protect them from a greater evil than your mother or I could comprehend at the time of your conception. You say you need our army? I trust you. You have my blessing.”
Tension eased from my posture immediately as I sank bonelessly into the couch.
“Thank you, Pasha,” I said, using his formal and honorific title. I was nearly giddy at the weight that was lifted from my shoulders. As Lord of Iluul, his word was law. If he demanded ships leave with me, then our army was obligated to follow.
“But it’s no longer my permission or blessing you need,” my father finished, his words heavy and regretful. Instantly, the weight returned to my soul, my stomach sinking like a stone. I sat up quickly, the leather of the couch groaning with my movement.
“What? What do you mean? You’re the pasha, it’s your army . . .”
My father shook his head, cutting off my incredulous questions.
“Not anymore,” he said softly. “When my disease progressed, and it became clear to the council that you were not coming home, decisions had to be made to ensure Iluul’s security and prosperity were in the best hands.”
“You . . . you are no longer Pasha.” It was an incredulously whispered statement, a truth that made my blood run cold even as shame made my cheeks flush with heat.
“I don’t fault you, Torin,” my father said, his paper-rough hand coming up to shakily clasp my cheek. “But transference of power was all but demanded by the council, a demand I agree with,” he added heavily.
“If you are no longer Pasha, then why are you permitted to still live in the pasha’s quarters?” I asked, diverting attention from the question that really needed to be asked.
My father’s hand dropped from my cheek with a small smile.
“As you so astutely observed, Torin, I’m a dying man. My days are numbered and dwindling fast. While my body is beyond repair, there has always been a second in line. Have you not gone around proclaiming yourself Lord of Iluul for the past two decades?” My father chuckled wryly as I gripped the back of my neck in embarrassment, even as a wave of sadness crested over me with his admittance.
How much time did he have left?
My eyes found the ornately decorated floor, where patterns in blues the same color as my mother’s irises speckled the surface. I focused on the comfort that hue brought rather than the dying man next to me as I made my next confession.
“It was necessary. In order to draw powerful allies to me, I needed to appear asif I had equal power without giving away the fact that I could control four elements without the need of a Vessel or crystal,” I admitted. My father simply waved his hand in my direction.
“Thatis what has saved me this position. I may no longer be Pasha in action, but I am still Pasha in name. News of your . . . exploits traveled here, making some of the council members uneasy or unwilling to transfer full power to the sitting Pasha.”
I barked an incredulous laugh, pulling my eyes from the floor to rest on my indomitable father.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered with a shake of my head.
“Mmm,” my father agreed quietly. “Yet rather helpful.”
“How so?”
Father shrugged with a sigh, his body practically molding to the couch beneath him. I could tell the night was wearing on him, the desire to retire to his bed strongly written in the exhausted sag of his shoulders. “It’s a bargaining chip, Torin. Use it as one. I expect you’ll be called to dinner tomorrow.”
I stood, recognizing that his time with me was ending, and helped my father from the couch. The leather squeaked as we moved, and I noted with a deep, profound sadness how light he felt in my arms, the fragility of life apparent in every shuffled step from the couch to the bed.
“Are you not going to tell me who rules in your stead?” I asked as I helped him into the massive white bed he once shared with my mother, setting his cane against the wall in easy reach before I tucked the covers around his thin frame.
“Use your brain, son.” He rapped his knuckles against my forehead. “Remember what I said about legacy, Torin. It is not made in these walls for you. But for others, they cannot see past their own nose, wanting a gilded shrine in their honor above all else.”
