“No,” Fairon says. “I was so disturbed he’d ever seriously considered it, I couldn’t trust that he’d let it go. I kept digging. A week later, I was sent out to investigate the star fall.”
“But…” Ana looks around her, making sure we’re truly alone. “He tried to kill you for looking into a war that didn’t even happen? How does that make sense?” She shakes her head. “And he was using the star as, what, a murder weapon? Surely there are easier and more effective ways of killing someone. As proven by the fact that you didn’t actually die.”
“Anything more direct might have blown back on him,” Tira pointed out. “He couldn’t be seen trying to get rid of his heir—it would have meant shutting up one fae at the cost of stirring up questions from about a thousand others.”
Fairon sighs, preparing himself for the next part. “I spent the next two years not being able to remember my own name, let alone worry about His Majesty’s need to conquer the dryads. I think he expected the sickness to kill me quickly, but he hadn’t factored in how fast you’d get me to the sanctuary, Leonidas, nor how effective it would be in keeping me alive.”
“And once you were in there, you were protected,” I say, realization dawning on me. I see the question in Ana’s eyes.
“The sanctuary’s magic doesn’t just protect Claerwyn blood from sickness. We can’t be harmed within its walls.”
Ana turns to Fairon. “So you’re saying he settled for having youdyinginstead of dead. It mostly worked for him anyway, I suppose,” she continued, thinking out loud, “since you were in no condition to be a threat to him like that, and he had no reason to believe you’d ever get better. He just had to wait for the sickness to get you.”
“Yes. Then Leonidas found the impossible: a cure.”
“Now we know why he tried to sabotage that damn trial,” Tira says to Ana. “He was worried what would happen if you succeeded with Fairon.”
Fairon nods. “He didn’t want me to keep following the trail of the Agathyre invasion and discover therealsecret he was trying to hide. I’d actually gotten a clue already, thanks to something I read in those old plans, but its significance only dawned on me when Proctor Gallis sent her reply to Tira about the artifacts.”
Fairon swallows, steeling himself. “The Traveler’s Mark—that’s what they called Ethira’s seal at the Lyceum, and that’s what it was called in the king’s plans. It was the key to it all—thoseresourceswe needed that would allow us to invade Agathyre. The Miravow would stand between the dryads and anyone trying to conquer them. You know firsthand how dangerous it is,” he says, gesturing to us all.
“But the Traveler’s Mark would allow the bearer safe passage through the forest,” I say. I take a step back. Something’s brewing inside me, an idea too dark to entertain. But it’s lurking there in the shadows, fighting to come into the light.
“Yes, that’s why he needed it,” Fairon says.
“And that’s why our father went after it,” I finish. “To keep it out of Respen’s hands and avert a war.”
The truth claws its way to the front of my mind, demanding to be acknowledged. Ana feels how hard it hits me, reaching out across the bond to soothe me.
“You reached the conclusion much faster than me,” Fairon says. To an outsider, he looks as serene as ever, but I know him too well, and the sorrow and bitterness in his eyes are obvious.
Ana looks to Tira, who nods.
“Yep,” Tira says grimly. “What happened next is…exactly what you’re thinking.”
Ana’s hand flies to her mouth, her eyes darting to mine.
“Respen?...He was the one?”she asks across the mooring.
“That’s what they’re saying,”I reply.
All these years, I wanted to know what really happened to our parents. I’d been so certain there was more to the story. And now it’s clear that I was right. I’d just been seeking answers in the wrong places. I never thought to look in my own home for their murderer.
There’s a lead weight in my lungs, making me desperate for air.
“Excuse me,” I say, turning and letting my feet carry me away. I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to breathe somewhere different. I have to escape this pressure building inside me.
“Do you need me?”Ana calls across the bond.
“No, thank you,”I say.“I just need some time.”
She understands, of course. Doesn’t even bother with another question. I just feel a reassuring pulse of warmth across the mooring, and then nothing.
Eventually, I have to stop walking because I hit the edge of the lake. I let the water lap against the toes of my boots as I stare across it toward the palace. I have an urge to cleave apart the ground underneath the building, splitting the earth open until it swallows the place whole.
My father was always a popular figure. He was good at getting people to like him—a charming man. Not like his sons. But part of that was because he never disagreed with people openly, especially not my grandfather. Whenever Respen was off doing something despicable, Father always tried to deal with it in the least confrontational way possible. He’d ask questions that made my grandfather consider a different angle, or line up allies that shared his viewpoint to speak for him. He was subtle. Some might say sneaky.
If he wanted to stop the king going to war, removing a necessary item from Filusia and hiding it elsewhere is exactly the kind of thing he’d do. It explains why my father took the seal in secret—why our grandfather never told us about it.
