“Who’s me mother, Bron?”
No sooner had Kalder asked that question than a horrid realization of what, or more to the pointwho,Devyl was looking at hit him, along with why they’d be so trepidacious for it.
That wasn’t an animal or symbol on the royal Myrcian coat of arms, and well he knew it.
Oh no… It was a person they held in such regard that she was emblazoned on their arms and flags. A woman they all worshiped and paid homage to.
And not just any woman, at that.
Nay, leave it to his father to have nailed a goddess, who possessed the upper body of a beautiful female and the lower body of a mermaid. Winged like a dragon. In one hand, she held the world in her palm, and in the other, a key that balanced two rings above it.
And this particular goddess wasn’t known for her kindness or gentility. Rather, she was a vengeful devil said to have slaughtered her own father when she was nothing more than a girl. One who’d been cursed by her mother for said slaughter…
His jaw dropped. “Are you saying that me mada was the goddess Melusine?”
Devyl nodded grimly. “And contrary to what the bitch said, your mother didn’t abandon you by choice. She wanted to keep and raise you as she did her daughters, but merewyns aren’t allowed to raise their sons. They’re a matriarchal race. Had she kept you near her, her sisters would have killed and devoured you. A harsh lesson she learned after they murdered her other two sons when she returned home with them. So against her tenderest wishes, she left you here with your father. It was with the bitterest of tears. Tears you can still hear echoing in the wailing chambers of this land.”
A chill went down Kalder’s spine at that. He knew the sound the captain referenced.
All their people did. It was a shrieking scream of ultimate heartbreak in the cavern where no one ventured. Because the sound was so unbearable to hear. No one could take it for long. His father had used it for torture against his enemies and to interrogate his prisoners.
If exposed to it for too long, the intensity of it could drive even the sanest of mind mad.
Kalder couldn’t believe it was a sound someone made over him. Devyl pointed to Kalder’s biceps. “Tears don’t come naturally to merewyns. They are creatures of war. Women of action and extreme violence, who strike out in bitter fury and with alacrity. They have no tolerance for weakness of any kind and can’t abide it. The scars you bear across your left shoulder and arm? Those are mementoes from the tears your mother shed at her parting while she clutched you to her breast. Merewyns secrete bitter tears of acid that burn deep. The sadder their heart, the more potent the acid, the deeper it burns and the more it scars. As you can see by the depth and scarring of yours, she didn’t easily let you go, and I can assure you, she didn’t want to scar her own son, and taint your beauty in any way, as that isn’t their nature either. Had there been any way for her to keep you, she would have. Believe you me. She would have defied them all for a single day at your side, and it’s why Chthamalus was so attentive to you while you lived here. She charged him with your care and upbringing, and told him if he didn’t guard you like the most precious and sacred object you were to her, she’d have his heart for her war chest so that she could torture him eternally.”
With two tentacles wrapped around his “chest” and “abdomen” for protection, Chthamalus nodded eagerly and bobbed away on his other five tentacles with a look of absolute terror on his face.
Until Kalder pinned him with an arch stare.
He froze and gulped audibly. “What he says is true, Highness. She threatened me with more than that.” He flashed his fanged teeth. “Not that she needed to. I’d have watched you anyway. Mostly because your father threatened me with worse and more should Iever breathe a word about your real and true origin. But still… After a while I got used to you, I did. Grew to like you, even. You’re actually not so bad. Death threats notwithstanding, I rather do like you. You’re not a terrible sort for only having four and one-quarter mismatched tentacles.”
Ignoring his outburst, Devyl continued. “Your mother also left two rings as gifts in parting. One your father could use to summon her should he ever be in peril and need the aid of her and her sisters in battle, and one for you so that if you were deprived of his throne, you would have her army to command to reclaim it. Because that was their deal. You were to inherit everything here at his death.”
His gaze went to Bron. “And that is what the Myrcianphearsehas always feared most. Why she’s hated you from the moment of your first breath. Because as the son of their king—yourfather—and that sole son of a sea goddess, by all Myrcian law, you are the rightful heir of this kingdom, above all her sons. Your birth supersedes whatever bastard she whelps, and well she knows it.”
Kalder went cold as memories flared deep and slapped him hard. But the one that stood out most was the day his father had died. While he’d never felt particularly close to the man, the news had hit him hard.
More than that, he’d respected his father as a warrior. So, the reality that such a fierce fighter had gone down in battle had rattled him to the core of his being. Mostly because he’d believed his father to be invincible and immortal.
The fact that Daven hadn’t been…
It’d taken the wind out of Kalder’s youthful idealism. Left himadrift and stunned. Especially since he hadn’t known his place in his family without his father’s iron hand there to guide him, keep him in line, and hold the other jackals at bay.
It was strange to him how that day seemed so close and yet so very far away. How he could be numb to it and still raw over it.
But then, his father had always left him conflicted and confused.
Kalder had been training with Chthamalus when the news had arrived. Not by a friend or family member.
By the common shouts of the town criers as they’d swum through the city, delivering the news to all.
No one had sent word to break it to him gently. Rather, he’d been in the middle of sparring, his shield held high as they went through their daily maneuvers.
“King Daven is dead! Felled in battle! Long live King Varice!”
Stunned by the callous words and unexpected pain of it, Kalder had lost his grip on the shield at the same time Chthamalus had struck a blow. The impact had sent the edge of the shield slicing through his mock armor and into his skin, leaving him with a gash and a scar that still marked him. Yet it was nothing compared to the pain in his soul.
“Highness? Did I kill you? Oh dear gods! Highness! Speak to me and let me know I didn’t kill you!”
