“I believe I’m the ultimate authority on the amount of influence you have over me.”
It was best to just leave that alone.
“Tell me about this,” he said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Digi’s parentage.”
“When Rogh Dareel won the war of succession with his siblings, his reserves were exhausted. He needed money in the worst way, so he approached a rich merchant family, seeking to marry their heir, Asali. Asali turned him down in public. He pulled some strings and made sure her brother’s trade convoy was captured and then offered to negotiate for his release.”
“If Asali married him.”
“He told her that she could either lose a brother or gain a husband. The choice was hers. She married him. They had a grand wedding with contests of strength and skill, as is the Okula’s tradition. While Rogh was getting drunk and basking in congratulations, Asali evaluated the contestants and settled on Mrest Eser. He had won everything except the singing. He can’t carry a tune in a bucket. Have you ever met her?”
“No.”
“She is stunningly beautiful and twice as smart. She realized that what Rogh treasures the most is his legacy. She has six children. Two of them are Rogh’s and the rest were sired by Mrest Eser.”
Digi’s mother didn’t do revenge halfway.
Everard frowned, thinking. “In the Okulan tradition, every child is legitimate no matter the circumstances of their birth. They anticipate wars of succession, so the children start to build their alliances early.”
I nodded. “By now all of Mrest’s children are very well established, with strong allies. If their parentage comes to light, Mrest Eser will claim them as his own, and the balance of power within the clan will drastically shift to the Eser family. It’s even better because he never married or had other children, so they’ll have no competition.”
“If this comes to pass, the Esers will pull Rogh Dareel off the Oak Chair.”
“Exactly. Rogh found this out just over a year ago. He has two choices for an heir of his blood: his oldest son, who is nowhere as capable as Digi, or his youngest son, who is barely eight. He sent Digi off and scrambled to build up his older son’s support. Now that she knows, she will fight them both until she carves them into bloody ribbons.”
“And Amur’s grandfather?” Everard asked.
“He breeds the best hounds in Okula. Years ago, when Rogh was fifteen and named the heir, he came to Amur’s grandfather looking for a puppy. The grandfather gifted the pick of the litter to him. But the dog required a lot of work. One day he bit Rogh, and Rogh snapped the puppy’s neck.”
Damn dog killer. Every time I read that scene, I wanted to murder him.
“Hardly a surprise.” Everard’s tone was ice-cold.
“After Rogh Dareel became thetair, he came to get another dog. He wanted one of those hounds to sit by him while he ruled from the Oak Chair. It would show everyone that he had the support and approval of the whole clan. Amur’s grandfather refused. The next morning his entire kennel was dead. Poisoned. Decades of careful breeding, a life’s work, wiped out in a single night.”
“What happened?”
“The entire household wept over the dead puppies. Rogh Dareel had bribed a servant to do it, and she was so broken up about it that she confessed and surrendered the gold coin he’d given her as payment. The High Clans of the Okula are called High Clans because they have the right to mint their own gold and silver. When a newtairascends, a new run of coins is struck, and these coins are numbered. The first ten coins are given to the newtairand are meant to be kept for a lifetime.”
I probably wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know.
“What was the number on the coin the servant gave up?” Everard asked.
“Seven.”
Everard smiled. I fought off a shiver. In moments like this, I didn’t know if he just had an occasional spike of bloodlust or if his mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of his true nature underneath. The second possibility was much more alarming.
“How capable is Digi?” he asked.
“She’s her mother’s daughter. You should’ve seen her. If you told me that my father didn’t sire me, I would need to take some time to deal with it. She took one moment and then announced a celebration in her real father’s honor.”
In all fairness, Rogh was a lousy father, mostly absent from his children’s lives. When he did take an interest, it was because they had achieved something that benefited him and even then, he was moody and quick to snap. His off-spring had to walk a fine line between accomplishing enough to stand out and be a credit to the family, but not so much that they outshone him.
“Will it bother you that you won’t be the one to kill him?” I asked.
