“What do you want from me then? Are you going to force me to join your Sisters? Arrange murders for me to carry out?”
Nimue studies me, a ponderous look in her eyes. “I suppose you don’t have to join the Sisters.” She says it begrudgingly, but there’s something calculating about her tone. “In fact, I could release my claim on you altogether.”
My heart pulses with hope but my suspicion is stronger. “How so?”
She leans back in her throne, her serpent’s tail flicking this way and that. “You took something from the Sisters, daughter. Saved a life that was never meant to be spared.”
I know at once who she means. Brother Dorian. “You were responsible for the shipwreck.”
“Yes.”
“Why? What did he do to deserve your wrath?”
She barks a laugh. “You have no idea what kind of monster you rescued. His name is Dorian Ariko, and he’s the son of Astern Ariko. Does that name sound familiar?”
I shake my head.
“It figures. I assume your father gave you a sheltered life at Bircharbor. Regardless, Astern Ariko was part of Saint Lazaro’s brotherhood, a man following the Order of Strength. After the rebellions were quelled, he took fae prisoners who’d been captured during the skirmishes and brought them in secret to his personal estate. In his very own cellar, he started an illegal fighting ring that he operated for three years before the fae discovered it. His captive fae were forced to fight, sometimes with each other or other newly captured fae, sometimes against men of Saint Lazaro. Many fae died, and by the time the fighting ring was exposed, there was only one fae left. A sea fae. She was killed by Astern’s son, Dorian Ariko, when the boy was only ten years old.”
“Why did he kill the fae?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. I can’t seem to reconcile a murderous ten-year-old with the handsome photograph outside the church.
Nimue shrugs. “He’s the son of his father. What other reason could he have? Astern Ariko was raising his son to follow in his footsteps and join the Order of Strength within Saint Lazaro’s brotherhood. Many believe the boy was training to fight when he killed the fae, despite him claiming it was self-defense. But the fae he killed was stabbed seven times, and when the boy was found, he was covered head to toe in her blood as if he’d bathed in it.”
The visual sends bile rising to my throat.
She continues. “Astern and all the others who participated in the fighting ring were executed, but the Alpha Council deemed the boy innocent. Hardly a soul truly believed he was, though, not even the royals.”
I’m surprised to hear the crime was big enough to make it into the Alpha Council’s hands. As the highest form of government in Faerwyvae, consisting of every ruler from each court, only the biggest cases require their judgment. Most issues can be handled by the rulers of the court the crime was committed in. It’s normally only legal scandals involving the royals themselves that require a verdict by the Alpha Council. Then again, Saint Lazaro has been on thin ice since the rebellions. I suppose it makes sense that any crime involving the brotherhood could be considered next to treason.
“If everyone thinks he’s guilty, why wasn’t he assassinated sooner?” I ask, and the question tightens my stomach. Do I believe heshouldhave been assassinated sooner? Should he have been assassinated at all?
“Shortly after the executions, the boy’s mother sent him to boarding school in Bretton. Probably to prevent further investigation that could prove her son’s guilt. He’s been living there ever since. There was no need to punish him further.”
“But he came back?”
“Yes, to claim his inheritance,” Nimue says with a sneer. “Astern Ariko’s properties, gambling income, and estates were seized by the Alpha Council, but since he was the only one in his family found guilty of a crime, his will had to be honored where his son was concerned. He’d set aside a sizable trust for Dorian’s education as well as a hearty fortune for him to claim when he came of age. The money was most certainly earned from illegal betting income, but there was no proof. So the boy’s inheritance was set aside, reserved for him to claim between the ages of eighteen and twenty-one. If he fails to claim it during that time, it becomes forfeit. No one expected him to return, for only a citizen can claim wealth and property on the isle. And once a human leaves Faerwyvae, they must reapply for citizenship unless express permission for short-term travel is given. Dorian, it seems, was most determined, for he’d scheduled an appointment to discuss said citizenship on Vanmar Island.”
“Vanmar Island?” I echo, unfamiliar with the name.
“Oh, my child, you are sheltered, aren’t you?” I narrow my eyes, but she only laughs. “It’s one of the small, protected islands to the north, just outside the Lunar Court. It’s used for conducting business with humans who have questionable citizenship, a way to process legal matters without allowing a human ashore the mainland.”
“That’s when his ship was attacked? When he was on his way to this island?” It makes sense, considering the wreck happened just west of Cape Vega. There’s a small cluster of islands northwest of there, and I’m guessing Vanmar is one of them. The fae must have driven the ship off course, led it toward the cape instead. With a shudder, I wonder how many others had been on board. A captain, crew, perhaps others seeking citizenship. Others I didn’t save.
“Yes, and had you not interfered, he never would have made it to shore. The fire should have been enough to guarantee there’d be no survivors.”
“I tried to end him,” Zara says, tone defensive, “but he attacked me. He smashed an oil lamp over my head and pushed me into the flames.”
I glare at her. “I’d likely do the same if you were trying to assassinate me.”
Zara rises and takes a step forward. “Don’t speak like he didn’t have it coming. The sea fae he killed wasn’t just anyone. She was my sister. For three years she was kept in a cage in his father’s cellar, shackled in iron—an illegal metal that you’re probably too stupid to understand is lethal to faekind. The touch of it alone would have been torture. Being kept constantly cuffed in it would have caused a slow poisoning of her flesh. Endless agony. And that’s not even half of it. She was forced to fight for her life night after night. Of all the fae Astern Ariko kept for his fighting ring, she was the last survivor. She made it three years. And that…boy…killed her.”
I’m torn between sympathy, disgust, and annoyance. The fate of her sister was undeserved indeed, but…I can’t help feeling like there’s so much more they aren’t saying. If the fae was the last survivor in a brutal fighting ring, how did a ten-year-old boy take her down? Was he truly such a vicious beast at that young age? And how does this relate to me? I turn my attention back to Nimue. “What does any of this have to do with me not joining your merry band of assassins?”
“Patience, love,” she says in an aggravatingly gentle voice. “Like I was saying, you interfered with something you knew nothing about. You aided the boy in coming to shore—”
“How do you even know that?”
She looks down at my clenched fist, the one holding the hair comb. “After your father finally confessed about your powers, I attuned all my Sisters with your essence so anyone could report back if they found you. After Zara recovered from Dorian’s attack with fire, she sensed you. She found that comb. I’d already felt you in the ocean that night, so when she brought that comb back to me, I understood at once what happened. Still, I needed further proof. So I used your little trinket to create the enchantment that allowed Zara to track you. She followed your trail from the sea to the steps of Saint Lazaro and all over the city of Lumenas until she saw you herself. She watched as you returned again and again to the church, as if you were looking for something. Or someone.”
