‘Blaze,’ River says gently. ‘Knowing you has been one of the greatest joys of my life.’
I can feel the anger splintering. River was sworn to secrecy. He vowed never to reveal that he was my grandfather, and yet he found a way to be one without ever breaking his word. And for that, I’m grateful.
‘I understand how unsettling this must be,’ he continues. ‘But please, don’t blame your grandmother. All she’s done, she did for you.’
‘No, all she’s done islie.’ I hear some of the viciousness creeping back into my tone. ‘To my mother, to my brothers, to me. Clearly she didn’t trust us to keep our mouths shut.’
‘Blaze –’
‘Why are you defending her?’ I demand.
‘Because I love her.’
There is no hesitation. He says it so simply, and yet the words are steeped with such ardent intensity that they seem to scorch the air between us.
‘Still?’ I ask quietly, as if the answer is not obvious.
River smiles sadly. ‘Until the very end.’
I feel a tug beneath my ribcage as my reluctant heart expands. I watch him trace the brandmark on the back of his hand – a gift Grandmother gave to him so that he might have a choice in who he could become. Her fire forged his future, and he wears it proudly.
‘I … I saw you,’ I confess. ‘Both of you. I saw the moment you met. I saw you at the Choosing. I saw your lives, intertwined.’
‘But how?’ River asks in surprise.
‘With the Eye of the Past.’
‘I thought King Balen –’
‘His is a fake. Fox has the real one.’
A corner of River’s mouth twitches. ‘Smart boy.’
‘That’s certainly one word for him,’ I mutter.
River laughs, and soon enough I find myself telling him everything. About the Eyes, about Elva, about the escape from Fire Mountain, the Ridge tunnels, the Wildlands, what happened in Wellwall. He listens with unwavering patience, letting me talk until my voice is spent. He tells me of unrest among the courts, the break-out from the dungeons, Hal’s waning authority, the attempt on his life and the chaos left in its wake.
‘And you believe that you’ll find Syla’s Eye here, in Brava?’ River asks.
‘Yes, or at least Fox seems to think so. He reckons wherever I sent the Eye will have a stronger connection to my past.’
‘And exactly how much do you know ofmypast, Blaze?’
‘I know your father was a Rain Singer and your mother was a Mage. That you possess all four water gifts and the ability to turn invisible.’ I pause, suddenly curious.
River’s eyes sparkle with mirth. One moment he’s folding a blue handkerchief, the next he’s gone. Yet the handkerchief continues to move, tucking itself in neatly at the corners, smoothed by a pair of unseen hands. I gasp. Seconds later River reappears.
‘And the Rain Singers – do they know that you’re Demari?’ I ask.
River nods. ‘I travelled to Brava during the war. I refused to kill my mother’s people, so I sought refuge with my father’s. I couldn’t bear witness to such atrocities any longer.’
A vision slips into my mind – River riding away from the battlefield after begging Grandmother not to fight.
‘The Rain Singers could sense I was different,’ he continues. ‘But they accepted me. Given their history with the Aquatori, they would never seek to persecute another for their gifts. They embraced me, for many among them still remembered my father. He was one of the best dragonfly riders our people have ever known.’
‘Your father,’ I say. ‘Why … I mean,howdid he meet your mother?’
‘Even before the Singers’ existence was a secret, they lived independently of the rest of Ostacre,’ River begins. ‘They were self-sufficient in every way. The Creek is home to a plentiful supply of fish. Many birds roost high on the cliffs, and a number of mountain goats provide both meat and milk. A few miles south of here is a small expanse of fertile land used to grow grain and crops. Only supplies like weapons, coal, fabrics, oil and medicine were necessary for survival and yet beyond their reach. After centuries of bad blood, pride prevented them from stooping to trade with the Aquatori. So every year a number of riders were selected to travel to distant lands and source what the Singers needed to sustain themselves here in Brava.’
