To Lliandra, he repeated his story with little added information. The empress was livid to learn of Taryn’s whereabouts. She held Rhoane personally responsible if anything happened to her daughter. Rhoane took the blame Lliandra thrust at him. He was the reason Taryn went off alone, but he couldn’t tell her mother why.
Lliandra leaned close, saying in a low voice, “What happened at Gaarendahl? Marissa has not been the same since we returned from Celyn Eryri. She will not speak of anything having to do with Taryn or yourself. Was there a quarrel between my daughters?”
Rhoane breathed a sigh of relief. He wasn’t sure how to explain to Lliandra Marissa had raped him while Taryn watched. If Marissa said nothing, then he would do the same. Instead, he told her a different truth. “I believe Zakael’s intentions went beyond Marissa’s tolerance. He refused to teach Taryn anything having to do with the power and on several occasions hinted of a different liaison, of which Taryn had no interest.”
“You say Taryn denied Zakael?”
“Yes, completely.”
“Then there is no harm done. Marissa needs to forgive her sister and get back to the business of Aelinae.” She stood and Rhoane followed suit. “Thank you, Prince Rhoane, for coming to see me. I hope you will stay in Talaith for a while.” She held out her hand for him to kiss.
The empress had not entirely confirmed she knew of Marissa’s relationship with Zakael, but she left Rhoane with little doubt. Marissa was of keen intellect and strong in the power, but it was her body she used best as a weapon.
The memory of her beneath him, a sick, triumphant leer marring her features, flashed vivid in his mind and he reeled, his stomach clenching. She had once been like a sister to him but now—now he despised her. Despised the very thought of what she had done to him, all in the name of power. Zakael as well. For if he hated Marissa, he had to hate Zakael equally for his part in the scheme. They were Taryn’s half-siblings, yet blood meant nothing to them. Power and lust were what they honored above all.
Until Gaarendahl, Rhoane would never have thought Marissa capable of great cruelty, but he’d always known Zakael took perverse pleasure in being vicious.
Taryn’s half-brother kept his proclivities well hidden, but Rhoane had been at court the day Lliandra miscarried Zakael’s child. He witnessed firsthand Zakael, wild with grief and madness, almost kill the empress. Others in the palace blamed his action on the loss of his son, but there was a glee in his violence that chilled Rhoane.
Zakael vowed revenge on Lliandra’s House that day and to Rhoane’s mind, was making good on his promise. For many seasons, Zakael was warded from entering Talaith, but with Taryn’s return, Lliandra lifted the restriction.
Rhoane would never understand the Fadair and their habit of mating with whomever they wished. There was no honor in bedding first the father, and then the son, but Rhoane suspected the empress cared less about honor and more about the bloodline of her children. If she could make the Eirielle with Valterys, then certainly her reasoning was she could do it again with Zakael. Most likely, she was using her daughter in much the same way.
And he’d let Taryn travel alone to Caer Idris where Valterys, and probably Zakael, waited. The idea burned through him that Lliandra meant to use Taryn as well, but Rhoane tamped it out. Lliandra was devious, but she’d not subject Taryn to the same abuses she and Marissa enjoyed.
Taryn was not like them. Rhoane held to that truth with every fiber of his being. Taryn was good and kind. She would never submit to the same level of vileness like others of her family.
After an exhausting evening of telling the same lies to each of Taryn’s friends, Rhoane said his farewells, wanting nothing more than to lock himself in his study with a carafe of his favorite dreem.
Hayden, unfortunately, had other plans. “Rhoane, a word?” He beckoned to a tapestry and disappeared behind it. Rhoane followed with a grunt of disapproval.
“I spoke to the mercenary we met in Celyn Eryri, Baehlon’s brother,” Hayden began. “He is working for the empress, patrolling the docks, but he is not what he seems.”
“Why are we in a cramped corridor for you to tell me this?”
“I don’t want Baehlon to know we’ve been in contact. There is a family feud between the two, and I don’t want him getting in the way of my investigation.”
“You have my silence.”
“As I said, I’ve been communicating with Denzil as well as Amanda, the girl I told you about. She and her mother work for Adesh.” At Rhoane’s prompt, he continued, “They are readying a shipment to sail within a fortnight and I thought I should go aboard, undercover.”
“Impossible. You are a courtier, Hayden, not a spy. Why not send Ebus?” But of course they couldn’t. He was in Caer Idris protecting Taryn. Where Rhoane should be.
“He’s not in Talaith. Didn’t you know?”
“Yes, I forgot momentarily.” The day had been too long and his thoughts were muddled with exhaustion.
“I just wanted you to know. In case…” He paused, a note of apprehension in his voice. “In case you need to tell my father.”
“You will not be sailing on that ship, Hayden. I will go. Or Baehlon. Not you.” Hayden opened his mouth to speak, but Rhoane silenced him with a hard glare. Before he could argue further, Rhoane left the small space and strode to his rooms, fuming at the idiocy of some people.
Hayden was just a lad. Barely able to take care of himself. Rhoane stopped short at his door, shaking his head. Hayden was the same age as Taryn. And yet she carried herself with the grace and wisdom of someone much older. The thought saddened him. When she first arrived on Aelinae, she’d been full of youth and carefree. Too often of late, he saw the misery in her eyes, the responsibility that dragged her down.
Much of that had come from him.
He stormed into his study and poured a glass of dreem. The honey-colored liquid burned the back of his throat. A warmth suffused his rattled nerves, loosened his tense muscles. Usually, he allowed himself only one small cup, but that evening he contemplated drinking the entire bottle. He’d just stretched out on a chair when Alasdair entered with an apology.
Marissa stood in his doorway with her hands clasped before her, eyes downcast. She looked younger than he remembered, with a frailty that shifted his heart a fraction.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Rhoane, but I had to speak with you.” She looked demurely at Alasdair. “Alone.”
The last thing he wanted was to entertain Marissa. But between his exhaustion and the dreem, he didn’t have the will to fight her. “Certainly, Princess.” He beckoned his valet to close the door and leave them. When they were alone, Rhoane said in a neutral tone, “What do you want?”
She motioned to a wine goblet. “Would you mind? I find myself nervous all of a sudden.” Her voice was small and unsure. Rhoane poured her a glass of wine and then sat on a chair, waiting for her to speak. “What happened at Gaarendahl,” she began, a blush staining her cheeks, “was wrong of me. I’m sorry, Rhoane. I never should have done that to you.”
“Or Taryn,” he added.
Her eyes flashed toward him, then down again. “Of course. Or to my sister. It was Zakael’s idea. I went along with it because I thought I loved him. I know now he was just using me to get what he wanted.”
“I do not believe you, Marissa. Why would Zakael ask you to do that?”
Tears shimmered in her eyes. “He knew if I shared my body with you that you’d be tainted. He thought Taryn would leave you and become his lover if that happened.”
“But she did not,” Rhoane said quietly and Marissa flinched.
“No, she rejected Zakael to stay with you. He is not used to rejection. His anger when you left was frightening.” Her hand fluttered toward her face.
“It is in the past, Marissa.”
“You must know I’ve loved you since childhood. When Zakael told me what he needed me to do, I won’t claim I didn’t want that for myself as well. To lay with you, to make love to
you—it’s something I’ve long desired.”
“You knew I was destined for another.” His hands shook with suppressed anger as he downed another cup of dreem. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say, didn’t want to relive that terrible day.
“I knew it would hurt Taryn. I admit, a part of me wanted that, too. She had everything I ever desired. This was my one chance to experience just a moment of what she’ll have for the rest of her life. I couldn’t say no.”
“Yes, you could have. You were selfish and cruel.”
“I know what I did was wrong, but the gods have seen fit to bless me with your child, Rhoane.” She put a hand on her abdomen, smiling at him with a sick grin that made him want to vomit.
The alcohol churned in his stomach, threatening. “I do not believe you, Marissa. How do you know this is not Zakael’s child?” His vision darkened and his hands went numb.
“I haven’t bedded Zakael in ages. Once he got it into his head he wanted Taryn, he wouldn’t have anything to do with me.” Elegant tears rolled down her cheeks. “I had hoped when she left with you that he would return to me, but he cast me out. I came here alone.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“It’s true, my darling. We’re going to have a child. From my despair comes my greatest happiness.” She sank to the floor and kneeled before him. “I am yours, dearest. I’ve told no one of this child for fear they’d tell you before I had a chance.”
“What will you tell your mother?” His voice was hollow. His thoughts drifted to Taryn and how her heart would break even further when she learned of Marissa’s continued betrayal. No, his betrayal. He’d allowed Marissa to rape him. Instead of stopping himself when he had the chance, he gave her a child.
“I wanted to speak with you first. I know you are a man of honor and you must understand I would do nothing to besmirch your reputation. My only wish is that someday you will come to love our child as much as I do and will be a part of our life.” She grasped his hand, pleading. “Rhoane, you must believe it is the will of the gods. When you decide the time is right, I will tell Mother. Until then, do you think we should keep this between the two of us?” She beamed at him and his stomach tightened with disgust. He withdrew his hand, never wanting to touch the vileness of her again.
“Of course. Whatever you wish, Marissa.” The darkness threatened to overtake him. He gripped the chair to keep upright.
“I know I’ve given you quite a shock, my darling, but soon you’ll realize how wonderful this is.” When he didn’t answer, she stood and smoothed her skirts. “I’ll leave you now. If you ever wish to spend time with me, my door is always open for you.” She gave a little cry and put a hand over her heart.
“What is it?” Rhoane asked.
“Nothing to concern you.” She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders, clutching it against her chest.
He led her to the door and bade her farewell as if in a fog. Yet again, he had failed Taryn.
Chapter Thirty
Spring had come to Aelinae while Taryn lay in-between. The meadows were alive with vibrant hues in every shade of the spectrum. Taryn noted every wildflower, every town, every stream or lake they passed as a way to keep her mind from Rhoane. With grim determination, she’d closed the connection between her cynfar and her beloved. His emotions were too complicated and overwhelming to her still-fragile state of mind.
With each step closer to Valterys, Taryn’s dreams became increasingly disturbed with images of Rykoto. He didn’t try to harm her again, but his power pressed upon her and she shuddered at his growing strength. A little more than a fortnight after leaving the vier, Taryn rode Nikosana up the cobblestoned causeway leading to Caer Idris. Her throat constricted against the bile that rose from her churning stomach. A lone figure sat on horseback near the castle gates.
“Sister,” Zakael drawled when she moved closer, “welcome home.” He gestured imperially and the gates opened.
Taryn slowed her horse. She’d not expected to find him here. “It seems I have many homes, but I will thank you for your kind greeting.” She inclined her head to him as she passed through the large stone and wood structure into the courtyard proper. Multiple strands of ShantiMari tickled her skin and she fought the urge to shake them away. Zakael rode beside her in silence, a smile on his face. “Does something amuse you?”
“Yes, you.” At her extended silence, he explained, “I was certain when I saw you leave Gaarendahl, it would be your last foray into the West. Yet here you are.”
“I am here to see my father. Perhaps he can give me the training you so desperately avoided.” She leveled a look at him. “Without the added drama.”
A huge wooden door opened and Valterys stepped out to greet them. He looked older since she’d last seen him. Taryn sighed—they were all older, it seemed. Except Zakael. He still had a youthful glow about him.
“Princess Taryn, this is a surprise indeed,” Valterys said. “I was unaware you would be coming.” He aimed a pointed look at Zakael.
Taryn dismounted and Kaida sat beside her, ears perked forward, muzzle raised. “Father.” She inclined her head in greeting. “It is my wish to learn the ways of my inheritance.”
“Is that so?” Again he scowled at Zakael. “This day keeps getting more and more surprising.” Zakael started to explain, but Valterys held up his hand. “We will discuss this matter later. Right now, I’m sure my daughter would like to freshen up and perhaps get a warm meal in her before we talk business.”
He eyed her critically. “You’ve wasted to nothing since last I saw you. Do they not feed you at the Crystal Palace?”
“I’ve been traveling of late. I assure you, my health is good enough for the purpose I seek here.”
Valterys’ face softened. “Well, come inside and we’ll see if we can’t improve your situation all the same.”
Conflicting emotions fought within her, and she struggled to keep her face blank. She hadn’t expected him to be kind or to appear so—she tried to think of the word and all she came up with was—ordinary. Not imposing or frightening, but old and resigned to his life. When she passed through the doorway, her bonds stung deep in her skin. Carved into the wood was an elaborate design of scrollwork with runes interlaced throughout. Zakael pressed into her back, compelling her to hurry after her father.
Valterys led them through several corridors before finally stopping at a set of double doors. “I was not expecting you, so please forgive me if I do not have appropriate rooms for you, Your Highness.” He opened the doors to a vast expanse of rooms that took up half the wing. “These would be the queen’s apartments if there were one in residence. Alas, as there is not, I hope you will find them suitable.”
The decor reminded her of Lliandra’s suite in Talaith. Cream and blue fabric covered the furniture and long drapes of silk pooled on the floor in front of floor-to-ceiling windows. Beyond the glass, Taryn glimpsed the Western Sea. “They are lovely, thank you. Were these rooms meant for my mother?” She hadn’t meant to ask the question, but there it was.
Valterys cleared his throat. “If you need anything, there is a bell by the window. Do you know how long you will be staying?”
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“You are welcome here for as long as you like. I’ll send up some maids for your care and let the servants know you are my guest here. If you’d like to redo the rooms, I can arrange for someone to come in the morning.”
His kindness unbalanced her and she faltered in her response. “They’re perfect just as they are. Father,” she started, choking on the word. “Thank you.”
“It is I who am grateful to have you here. I have long wanted to know you. Your Highness.” He bowed before he left her alone.
She drifted around the rooms, looking out the windows at the sea far below and the gardens on the other side. Valterys kept a tidy castle, which surprised her. She’d expected to find barren wastelands for miles around. Instead, she found something co
mpletely the opposite. Birds sang outside her window, warning of the dark storm clouds that threatened on the horizon. Taryn breathed the salty air of the sea. It reminded her of Talaith. Homesickness like she’d never experienced cloaked her heart. She missed her friends. Missed the everyday life they shared in Talaith, even the tedious card games her sisters made her play. A wistful smile played at the corners of her mouth. She knew better than to make bargains with the gods, but if she survived her time in Caer Idris, she vowed to never again complain about her family. She was lucky to have them at all and it was best she remembered that fact.
Yet family also meant Valterys and Zakael. She wouldn’t, couldn’t make that vow for them. Not until they proved worthy. Of her time, of her powers, of her heart.
They dined in Valterys’ private dining room, an intimate meal of just the three of them, with Kaida sleeping nearby on a cushion. Their conversation included idle gossip and little of why she was there. By the end of the evening, she could recite every dish they’d eaten, which wine they drank, and several charming anecdotes about her brother’s childhood. It was a grim repeat of what Zakael had done at Gaarendahl, but Taryn held onto her hope that with the sunrise would come an opportunity to meet with her father alone.
When Zakael offered to escort her to her rooms, Taryn declined. When Valterys insisted, she relented. If she wanted his help, she couldn’t start by upsetting him. Once they reached her suite, Zakael let himself in and poured another glass of wine. After a moment, he poured one for her as well, which she declined. The last thing she needed was to become befuddled with Zakael so near. Instead, she went to the balcony for some fresh air.
Zakael stepped behind her, pressing his body into hers. She froze, afraid that any movement might encourage him. “Tell me why you are really here, Your Highness,” he whispered in her ear. “And don’t try to tell me it is to learn Dark Shanti. I saw enough of your skill at Gaarendahl to know you possess everything you need to command the trinity. You are here for one reason and we both know what it is.”
The Temple of Sacrifice Page 27