Yes! I could kiss Izarius.
But when my father turns to face us, he’s scowling. ‘The binding will go ahead as planned.’
My mother shuffles from the table, places a wizened hand on my father’s forearm. ‘I would not have our child suffer as we have suffered, my lord. The odds are already against them. Let us wait until the next Flowering Moons. Grant them their best chance of producing living heirs.’
A pained, tender look passes between my parents. The ghosts of six lost children shadow their faces.
The sick feeling I had in the Reliquary when I crossed that ghoulish cabinet returns. Along with the memories of the screams, the blood, the foul smoke.
My father blinks. A muscle ticks in his jaw. ‘Very well, we postpone for a sunring.’
Astrophel pales. He doesn’t even try to hide his disappointment.
‘Izarius, return to the Watching Chamber and issue a proclamation. Claim you misread the stars, invent some impediment to the binding in the astral charts. Tell them that’s what we’ve been discussing here. I don’t want word of this letter breathed to anyone beyond these walls.’
Izarius slips out and I exhale.
My mother catches my eye as she returns to her seat, just barely inclines her head in my direction. I whisper her a silent vote of thanks.
‘I only wish the succession could be retracted and deferred as well,’ my father mutters as he too resumes his seat, a metallic harshness in his voice. ‘You’re more cunning than I’ve given you credit for, daughter.’
The hatred in his eyes is an icicle through my heart. Still, so far, so good. I’ve managed to delay the binding. Before Orthriel handed me that letter, it would have been enough.
It’s not enough now.
I want more than a half-life in the shadows, subsisting on paltry crumbs of bitter-won approval. Reviled in secret, scarcely tolerated in public. Noelani’s letter lets me imagine a life where I can earn people’s respect. Perhaps even their love.
I can’t let go of that dream. Not now I’ve let myself hope.
‘Father, shouldn’t we at least discuss fulfilling Noelani’s requests?’
‘You’ve read this letter?’ he says, brandishing its pages.
I nod.
‘Then you’ve taken leave of your senses if you think for one minute I’ll agree to its demands.’ He throws the letter on the table. ‘You’d have us entreatthemfor help? Never! We will never again grovel to them, not while I draw breath. I remember my great-grandfather’s tales of the Plunderings, his memories of Outrealmers pillaging our lands, slaughtering whoever got in their way. Of a time before the Barriers were erected and the Purity Treaty signed, before crossbreeding was finally outlawed in all four quarters and the sterilisation of mongrels enforced, so the sanctity of bloodlines could be preserved. His relief at the moment when we were finally free – safe – from them.’
‘But didn’t we also invade the enemy realms, in search of a cure?’ My voice sounds reedy; I hate the quaver in it.
He gives me a look that could curdle milk. ‘You will go nowhere with infidels and savages, I forbid it!’
‘I don’t like this either.’ I muster strength I don’t feel into my voice. ‘I don’t trust our enemies any more than you.’
The mention of the enemy races spreads a shiver in my blood. I’m not lying – I don’t trust them an inch. It’s a reflex to hate them, an instinct as natural as breathing. It’s all I’ve ever been taught. But there’s also a thrill there, a fascination I can’t deny. Answers. I’ve always felt the enemy races hold answers. Ever since I first saw that portrait of the Elemagi. Answers about what I am, why I’m here.
‘You’ve read Noelani’s letter. I can’t retrieve the lost sceptre on my own. It will require members from all four races to re-enact the Blood Bond.’
My mother sighs. ‘Blood rites, Lili? But Shadow Lore’s so dangerous.’
‘If we do nothing, we’ll be dead anyway. The wards can’t hold.’
The words come out sharper than I intended. My mother’s face crumples. She coughs again. I start forwards, but Astrophel is already pouring a goblet of water for her.
My father slams his fist on the table. ‘We will never ally with those traitors!’
I know he hates to be reminded of the horrors lurking beyond Meissa’s walls, that he rules a dying realm. Still, I didn’t expect this. I thought, I hoped… I was a fool to hope.
‘Do not challenge me on this.’ His face flushes. ‘It will not end well for you.’
