"If that will be all, I'll take my leave as well," Master Durus said, glancing between my mother and me. He was an intimidating man, and it went beyond his sheer mass. He had a face that never smiled and always made you feel as if you'd done something mortally wrong. I'd never quite gotten used to him. Not even after all these years.
"Yes, thank you, Master Durus," my mother replied easily. She never acted intimidated by the man, but I often wondered.
Master Durus left, followed swiftly by Arioch Prime, who smiled at me as he passed as if he knew something I didn't and he was pleased by whatever it was. I'd never been fond of wizards. They had an intuition I found extremely invasive.
Vera got up from her corner and headed for the door.
"Vera," I said, and she stopped, hand on the door, peering at me over her shoulder. "You may stay if you like."
After everything she'd done for me and for Daria, she deserved to know the truth. I wanted her to know the truth. Vera moved closer, leaned back against a wall, and folded her arms, watching us.
I turned my attention back to my mother. If she'd had any reserve about holding a conversation before my semi-selected audience, she kept this to herself. Her eyes flickered between mine, and then widened with realization. "You know."
"Yes."
Her shoulders rose and fell with a slow, deep breath. "How long have you known?" She sounded deflated.
My gaze settled past her, upon one of the tapestries hanging behind Sir Torren's chair. The tapestry was a weaving of a dragon, its head bent before a king. It was a depiction of the first alliance between sovereign and dragon, an Estroian and Ephram Draconi's dragon. "I think I have always known, or at least suspected." I looked back at my mother, whose sudden anxiety made her seem frail. "In Alioth I grew suspicious. I'd hear stories of the lost heir. That they didn't think the Estroian line was dead. Then I remembered conversations you and Father had throughout the years—things you'd said when you thought I wasn't listening. But my suspicions weren't confirmed until a few days ago."
"Wait a minute," Thaddeus interjected. "You're saying the Estroian line is not dead?" When my mother and I didn't correct him, he continued. "Arioch Prime said something about that back in Karth, but I assumed it was all wizardly nonsense. But you're saying it's true? That the Estroian line somehow survived the Great War and has been in hiding for the last few centuries, and you somehow figured out who this…lost heir of Pendel is?"
"It was the dragon, wasn't it?" my mother whispered to me. "The one that brought Daria back to you. That's when you knew."
I nodded once, very aware of Vera's scrutiny from the shadows. "You remember how Daria and I can…sense one another…?"
My mother waited.
"I felt its recognition," I said. "When it saw me. And…I heard it speaking in my mind. It wasn't speaking to me, but I heard it all the same."
Vera walked toward us, her expression awe-struck.
"You heard that reptile talking?" Thaddeus gasped. "In your head?"
"It is said that the Draconi of old were able to communicate with their dragons," Vera said, stopping beside Thaddeus.
"But Del Can't isn't a Draconi. Rook is," Thaddeus said.
"Yes, but considering Alexander's tie to both the dragons and Daria, I don't doubt it's possible," my mother said.
"Wait…how is Del Can't tied to the dragons?" Thaddeus asked.
"I just…" My mother hesitated. "I wanted to be the one to tell you, Alexander. You're not…angry? That your father and I never said a word?"
"It's not like I haven't kept the truth hidden from someone I love in order to protect them," I said.
My mother swallowed and gazed deeply into my eyes. She looked so…sad.
"I'll admit I was angry at first. But then I understood," I continued. "You did it to protect me. I couldn't have done anything about it before. Not without being deemed a traitor. But I can do something about it now."
"Still, I could've told you so you would've known," my mother said. "Your father…he wanted me to, and sometimes I think I should've—"
"No, I'm glad you didn't," I interrupted her. "You understood that I would've hoped, and that hope would've driven me insane." She bit her bottom lip and her eyes turned glassy. "But I can hope now. I have Eris to thank for pitching this world into chaos and leveling the ground for a new leader to rise. Now that I know the truth, I have a responsibility, and that is to do everything in my power to set things right and bring order to this world before Eris destroys it."
"I know." Her voice was so quiet, so frightened. "Even I can't deny that now. Sweet Mother of Draconi, I've tried to."
"Excuse me." Thaddeus stood facing both my mother and me. He'd even pulled the grass from his mouth. "But I haven't felt this lost since I listened to an aria in Saqai"—he glanced back at Vera—"no offense, V. But what in the seven territories are we talking about here? What does Del Can't have to do with dragons and why in the bloody blazes are we going after this missing heir? I thought we were going after Rook!"
My mother and I stared at each other a moment more, and it was my mother who looked at Thaddeus and said in her matter-of-fact aegis tone, "You recall that I originally came from this place…from Pendel."
"Yes…?"
"What you don't know, and what many of my ancestors died trying to protect, is that I am also an Estroian."
Thaddeus stopped twirling the grass in his hands. "Wait." His eyes flitted between my mother and me. "As in Galahad Estroian?"
"Yes," my mother replied.
"As in The-Last-King-Of-Gaia Estroian?"
"Yes."
"Which means Del Can't is…the missing heir?"
My mother nodded. A clattering filled the empty chamber, and I noticed Vera had dropped one of her blades to the floor.
"Sacred spirits, it's you." Vera gasped.
"Okay, hold it right there." Thaddeus dropped his blade of grass and held his palm up as if he could physically keep us from speaking further. "That bloody madman Arioch Prime says the royal lineage isn't really dead, and you're saying it's you? Because that's just crazy. And let me tell you: I'm an expert on crazy." He looked between us, waiting for one of us to refute his claim. When we didn't, his lips parted and a small squeak of air came out. "Demons and hellhounds, you're serious."
"Yes," my mother said, as if it were the last "yes" she would ever say. And for the first time in his life, Thaddeus was startled speechless. My mother looked irritated, but then talking with Thaddeus usually had that effect on a person. She continued, "Of course, since the colorful history surrounding my many-greats-grandfather remains convoluted and twisted, the survival of my family has been kept secret. Not to mention, there are those who stepped in shortly after the High King's fall during the Great War, who would do anything in their power to make sure the Estroian line stayed…extinct. Up until quite recently, as Alexander has already mentioned, any claim to the throne—even with the proof we have now—would have been considered an act of treason and a death wish."
It's still a death wish, I thought.
"And, as I am sure you are well aware," my mother continued, "our current lords have inherited their territories from their fathers and their fathers before them. None are too eager to accept a new heir and new king—especially since they've been fighting to inherit the kingship for generations. But thanks to your father"—the look she leveled on Thaddeus was murderous—"King Darius no longer holds sway with his lords, and a king is nothing without his lords. The lords themselves are already at odds with one another, so if there were ever an opportunity for the Estroian line to rise again, it would be now." She looked back at me, and the despair returned to her face.
I could almost hear her silent plea: I just wish it didn't have to be you.
Thaddeus turned his entire body and gawked at me, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was, "Whoa."
I cleared my throat and looked back at my mother. "But is there any other kind of proof? Something the people mig
ht recognize, aside from the recorded lineage?"
My mother took a slow breath. "Yes, I doubt Eris will be forthright about your birthright. But now that he knows…" Her eyes moved over my face. There was so much love there. So much anxiety and pain. "He will do everything in his power to destroy you, Alexander."
"Whoa," Thaddeus eloquently repeated.
"Which is why I have to move quickly," I said. "Do you know of something else I could use to prove it?"
My mother's gaze dropped to the floor, and she wrung her hands together. She wrestled something in her mind. "Yes," she whispered, almost against her wishes. "There is."
"And its origin is undeniable?" I asked.
She swallowed and nodded, still not meeting my gaze.
"And what is it?" I prodded.
It took her too long to raise her gaze back to mine. She didn't want to tell me. My mother clung to the truth, still trying to keep it hidden—to keep me safe—but her aegis side finally stole it away. "It's Galahad Estroian's sword."
"Whoa," Thaddeus reiterated, but then he suddenly remembered his vocabulary spanned more than one word. "That's why the flame of Pendel suddenly lit during the games…because you showed up during the fight and it knew that you were the true heir and…whoa…"
And his vocabulary was reduced again. I glared sideways at him as if I could stare him into keeping his mouth shut.
"You have Galahad Estroian's sword?" I asked my mother. "I thought the pieces were lost."
She shook her head, but the movement was labored, as if her head felt heavy. "My family has…kept it hidden all these years."
We'd studied the sword at the Academia. It'd been the only one of its kind, forged from dragonbone, and etched along both blade and hilt were runes of old—enchantments and protections, said to be carved from the spirits themselves. Not that it had protected Galahad Estroian in the end. The sword had been a gift from Septimus Draconi to the High King before Septimus had betrayed him.
"Where are the pieces?" I asked.
She exhaled slowly as if needing a rest from running through a marathon of memories. "Tucked safely away on Earth."
"Earth?" Thaddeus, Vera, and I said this at exactly the same time.
"In Yosemite?" I asked.
She nodded.
"Oh, so that's how you pronounce that place!" Thaddeus interjected. "Here I always thought it was yo-smite, and I was going to add that I am not interested in going to a place that smites…er, um…" Thaddeus cleared his throat at Vera's glare.
"The pieces are hidden in the armoire in the lower library," my mother said. "Check the bottom panel. It's detachable."
"Ah." All those years they'd been hidden there without my knowing. Still, how best to get to Yosemite to recover them? I was in a race against Daria's impending marriage to Danton, and the sword had to be retrieved in secret. "Do you think Sir Torren will let us use Karth's portal to get to Rome?"
"Possibly…" my mother said. "Are you thinking of avoiding the Room of Doors and instead traveling from Rome to get to Yosemite?"
I nodded. "At least at this stage. It'll be easier avoiding Eris's spies that way." The Room of Doors was what linked Yosemite directly to Valdon, but it was also unique in that it linked Valdon to every other portal in Gaia, if one knew how to use it. Theoretically, I could use Karth's portal to travel to the Room of Doors, and from there simply walk into Yosemite, as we had done when we'd brought Daria to this world. But Eris had flooded Valdon with his shadowguard, and he would undoubtedly be monitoring the Room of Doors. I couldn't afford to have him know my plans and follow me to Earth, so it would be better to use Karth's portal to get to its Earthen pair—Rome—and travel to Yosemite on the Earthen side.
"Yes, I agree," my mother continued, following my train of thought. "And once you retrieve the pieces, you'll need to see Lord Venia of the Arborenne. He's the only one with the skills necessary to mend dragonbone."
Lord Dommelier Venia. I'd have to travel into the heart of the Arborenne, to its capital, Imbdell. It was the one city in Gaia I'd never been.
"All right." My mother placed her hands on her hips, thinking fast. "From Rome, you'll need to fly to San Francisco—"
"Spirits! You can fly, Del Can't?!" Thad exclaimed.
"Shut up, you idiot," Vera hissed.
"I know the contact in Rome," my mother continued, ignoring Thaddeus. "He can get you safely to San Francisco, and then Clara can pick you up at the airport and drive you back to Yosemite. But you shouldn't use the Room of Doors in Yosemite to get back to Gaia, either. It'll be too dangerous."
She wanted me to use the portal in Aukland for re-entry instead, because it linked directly with Imbdell.
"I can't fly to Aukland with those pieces in tow," I argued. "They'll never make it through customs. It also isn't a good idea to ship them overseas. I can't risk them being lost, or stolen, and we don't have time to pour energy into a concealment spell."
My mother chewed on her bottom lip. She knew I was right. "I might have access to an amulet, but that would only hold enough magic to transport you."
"Not happening." Vera folded her arms over her chest.
"You'll be marked as a traitor, Vera," I said, "and Eris will hunt you down once he realizes you're helping me."
"I won't argue with you on the subject." Her dark eyes hardened with resolve. "I'm coming, and that's final. Besides, if you're headed for Imbdell, you'll need an extra pair of blades to fend off those fraelings. I saw how effectively you resisted those charmers in Thieves."
I pinched my lips together at the memory. "Yes, I will need your help."
"I didn't hear you so concerned about me being hunted," Thaddeus remarked.
"Because in your case, I'd feel sorrier for your predator," I said to him, then turned back to Vera, ignoring Thaddeus's offended grunt. "Thank you."
Her nod was sharp, and she stood a little taller.
"But Alexander…you'll be weaponless when you get to San Francisco," my mother said, her tone pleading. "And Eris will certainly have his shadowguard guarding the Room of Doors in Yosemite. And how are you going to travel to Imbdell without a guide? Even with Thaddeus and Vera…you know how dangerous the Arborenne is!"
I reached out and grabbed her shoulders, holding her firmly yet gently, staring down into her loving brown eyes. "I have to do this," I whispered, squeezing her shoulders. "I don't have the luxury of time. If there were another way, I would take it. By the spirits, I swear. But there's not. This is about who I am, and I have to face it."
"But even if you get past the shadowguard in the Room of Doors," she continued, "Eris won't stop hunting you. He'll send shadowguard or pykans. They'll follow you—"
"Better they follow us to the Arborenne than to Earth. At least the Arborennians can defend themselves," I said.
"I know. I just wish…" Her voice trailed as aegis and mother fought again for reign over her composure. At last she sighed, and then hung her head as she placed her hands over mine. "You're right. I know you're right. I don't like it, but I don't have to." She lifted her gaze to mine. "I'm still your mother, and you'll always be my baby boy. I'm allowed to be afraid."
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "I know." I lowered my hands from her shoulders. "We need to speak with Sir Torren and Arioch Prime immediately," I said, anxious to get moving—needing to get moving. Every moment I stood here took Daria farther and farther away from me. I had to do this before it was too late.
"Alexander…are you sure about this?" my mother asked. "Once you start down this path, you won't be able to turn away from it."
"Eris set me on this path the moment he returned. I know the risks, and I have to take them."
She swallowed, taking a small step as she slowly reached out and rested her palm on my cheek. "This is all for her, isn't it?" she whispered.
I clenched my jaw. "It's always been for her."
4
DARIA
I rolled over and rubbed my eyes. I didn't remembe
r falling asleep because I'd been too preoccupied sobbing into my pillows. And sobbing and sobbing until I had no more tears left and my eyelids had swollen shut. I only hoped none of the servants had heard me.
It wasn't that I hadn't known what I was getting myself into—Gaia knew I'd run clear to the other side of the globe to avoid it—but coming here, physically leaving the man I loved in order to marry one I didn't…the impact of that decision had hit me with the force of a bullet train. If marrying Danton was the right choice—my only choice—why did it feel like my insides were being fed through a paper shredder? When I'd heard songs or read poems about heartache, I'd always thought the person saying them was just speaking pretty words, and that heartache was just a figure of speech, but my heart really did hurt. Each pulse ached and there was a constant fluttering in my tight chest, making it impossible to draw a full breath. If this was the right thing to do, why did I feel as if I'd just made the biggest mistake of my life?
Because it is the biggest mistake of your life. You have no business marrying Danton.
The worst part of it was I knew my conscience was right. Marrying Danton went against everything I stood for, everything I thought I was. My sense of morality screamed in protest at this vile treachery of my personal moral code. On Earth, I never would've considered something like this, but this wasn't Earth, and this world didn't operate by the codes I'd accepted and believed all my life. This world had its own customs and traditions and cultures and religions. It didn't matter what I thought I knew. I lived here now, and if I was going to survive, I had to operate according to its laws and statutes.
Yes, I knew that. I'd almost died so many times trying to avoid it, which was also why Stefan was in the predicament he was in. It was also probably why Alioth had fallen so easily to my uncle and his shadowguard. How many people had suffered or even died because of my refusal to accept the way this world worked? I knew better now, which was why I'd finally given in and come to Orindor to marry Danton…but still. My heart was far behind my mind, and I didn't know if it would ever catch up. I was learning that my heart was a vicious rebel. There was no taming it. It didn't listen to my mind. It wasn't persuaded or coerced. It went right along living and loving, feeling and wanting, no matter how much I tried convincing it otherwise. Which was why kissing Danton last night had felt as if I'd just impaled myself. My heart would continue loving who it loved, no matter what my mind said was necessary, and when I'd done something contrary to its wishes, it hadn't hesitated to let me know. I didn't know if I'd survive very long with my two most vital organs at war with one another.
Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) Page 3