“Why do you want to conquer them?”
“Because they tried to keep meout. They keep so many people out. That’s not very nice of them, is it?” Then a sly look entered his eyes, and he asked, “Do you remember the child we met a few months ago? The filthy, hungry little thing?”
I nodded. They’d had such a white face, where it wasn’t covered in dirt.
“They’vebeen kept out of the Desolated Lands. I don’t know about you, butIdon’t think that’s fair. The kings and queens have locked all their happiness inside for themselves, refusing to share with anyone else. If I ruled those lands, I could have—I mean,wecould have everything they have now.”
“And share it with everyone?”
“Yes,” he said, drawing out the word. “But I can only achieve this goal if I conquer them first. That’s why I need your help. You’re a special boy, Treasure. The spell protecting—I mean, locking everyone out of the lands doesn’t affect you. Do you know what else makes you special?”
I hesitated, not sure if he wanted a real answer. Sometimes he only wanted a dramatic pause. When the silence dragged on too long, I shook my head no.
“You look like a prince.”
“I do?”
He nodded and pulled out a small portrait. “Prince Brendon Banes, thirty-two years old.”
I reached for the portrait, but he snatched it away, holding it high above my head. “Careful, that was not easy to steal from an exile of the Desolated Lands.” After giving the warning, he finally set it in my hands.
I scanned the picture, surprised at the similarities. Kind, blue eyes, crinkled at the corner as if on the verge of a smile. Wavy red hair that might be a few shades darker than mine, or that might have been the painter’s choice. His nose was a little straighter, his jawline thicker, but he looked more like me than my father did.
“You will pretend to be his son, at least until you learn something useful.”
I looked up at my father, the man who had passed me from nanny to nanny and didn’t spend much time with me. Having a different father probably just meant having different nannies, something I was already used to. “Alright.”
“So you agree?” he asked, his eyes lighting up.
I nodded.
Father crowed in triumph and swooped me into his arms, swinging me around and around in joy. The dizziness and the comfort of his tight hold made me laugh until I was breathless.
He dropped me before I’d had my fill. “I’ll prepare everything immediately. You’ll have to travel on your own, of course. Can’t have a nanny ruining your cover story. And I’ll need to craft a geas, in case of any slip ups. Lots to do, lots to do!” He rushed out of the room, barely paying attention to me now that he had an evil plot to perfect.
By the end of the month, I’d become Treasure Banes.
Present Day
Wandering Through the Streets
Coming Out of Memories Best Left Forgotten
My identity was nothing more than an evil scheme. The rest of the memories were distant, facts floating beneath the foggy surface. The first few years, I’d poured everything into my mission. Ingratiating myself to Brendon and Rick, following all their rules, studying with the tutors they assigned and never hiding my sums sheets. Sometimes, I’d forget I was only pretending to be their son. Allow myself to get angry without worrying that they would kick me out. Cry when I was upset so they could comfort me. Then something would happen, I’d discover some relevant information, and I’d remember who I was and the real reason I was in Bane.
During those reports, I’d watch my father bumble about, grumbling about a failed evil plan that definitely was not his fault. The minions were incompetent. The imps got in his way. He’d fire them all, just like the nannies, and start over from scratch. He could never keep anyone around for long, and he lost interest in anything that involved real work.
Ruling a kingdom involved real work. Rulingfivekingdoms would overwhelm anyone. Slowly, I formed my own plan. One that would satisfy my father until he grew bored. Then it would be so simple to suggest ‘Enjoy your infamy, you’ve earned it. But let someone else do the hard work.’
Of course, when the others heard the plan, Fitz had declared, “That’s the stupidest fucking plan I’ve ever heard.”
Maybe he was right, since I was pretty sure that plan had killed me.
I slipped my hand up under my shirt and touched my stomach. There was no healing wound, no scar, no sign of any injury. Just a phantom sensation of blood on my hands and something large and rough plunging through my body.
I didn’t know exactly how the Lord of Grimnight—the worst father I had—was behind that bloody memory. And we were on a quest to defeat him.
How do you defeat an evil mage?
