King's Cage
Page 126
He pushes on, eyes far away in the memory. “He used to be afraid of the dark, until one day he just wasn’t. In my dreams, he’s playing in my room, sort of walking around. Looking at my books. And darkness follows him. I try to tell him. Try to warn him. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t mind. And I can’t stop it. It swallows him whole.” Slowly, Cal runs a hand down his face. “Don’t need to be a whisper to know what that means.”
“Elara is dead,” I murmur, moving so we’re side by side. As if that’s any comfort.
“And he still took you. He still did horrible things.” Cal stares at the floor, unable to hold my gaze. “I just can’t understand why.”
I could keep quiet. Or distract him. But the words boil furiously in my throat. He deserves the truth. Reluctant, I take his hand.
“He remembers loving you, loving your father. But she took that love away, he said. Cut it out of him like a tumor. She tried to do the same with his feelings for me”—and Thomas before—“but it didn’t work. Certain kinds of love . . .” My breath hitches. “He said they’re harder to remove. I think the attempt twisted him, more than he already was. She made it impossible for him to let go of me. Everything he felt for both of us was corrupted, made into something worse. With you, hatred. With me, obsession. And there is nothing either of us could do to change him. I don’t even think she could undo her own work.”
His only reply is silence, letting the revelation hang in the air. My heart breaks for the exiled prince. I give him what I think he needs. My hand, my presence, and my patience. After a long, long time, he opens his eyes.
“As far as I know, there are no newblood whispers,” he says. “Not one that I’ve found or been told about. And I’ve done my fair share of searching.”
This I did not expect. I blink, confused.
“Newbloods are stronger than Silvers. And Elara was just Silver. If someone can . . . can fix him, isn’t it worth it to try?”
“I don’t know” is all I can say. Just the idea numbs me, and I don’t know how to feel. If Maven could be healed, so to speak, would that be enough to redeem him? Certainly it won’t change what he’s done. Not only to me and Cal, to his father, but to hundreds of other people. “I really don’t know.”
But it gives Cal hope. I see it there, like a tiny light in the distance of his eyes. I sigh, smoothing his hair. He needs another cut with a steadier hand than his own. “I guess if Evangeline can change, maybe anyone can.”
His sudden laugh echoes low in his chest. “Oh, Evangeline is the same as always. She just had more incentive to let you go than to let you stay.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know who told her to do it.”
“What?” I ask sharply.
With a sigh, Cal gets up and crosses the room. The opposite wall is all cabinetry, and mostly empty. He doesn’t have many possessions beyond his clothes and a few bits of tactical gear. To my surprise, he paces. It sets my teeth on edge.
“The Guard blocked every attempt I made to get you back,” he says, hands moving rapidly as he speaks. “No messages, no support for infiltration. No spies of any kind. I wasn’t going to sit in that freezing base and wait for someone to tell me what to do. So I made contact with someone I trust.”
Realization punches me in the gut. “Evangeline?”
“My colors, no,” he gasps. “But Nanabel, my grandmother—my father’s mother—”
Anabel Lerolan. The old queen. “You call her . . . Nanabel?”
He flushes silver and my heart skips a beat. “Force of habit,” he grumbles. “Anyway, she never came to court while Elara was there, but I thought she might once she died. She knew what Elara was, and she knows me. She would have seen through the queen’s lie. She would have understood Maven’s role in our father’s death.”
Communicating with the enemy. There’s no way Farley knew about this, or the Colonel. Nortan prince or not, either of them would have shot him if they did.
“I was desperate. And in hindsight, it was really, really stupid,” he adds. “But it worked. She promised to get you free when the opportunity presented itself. The wedding was that opportunity. She must have given support to Volo Samos to ensure your escape, and it was worth it. You’re here now because of her.”
I speak slowly. I must understand. “So you let her know the raid on Archeon was coming?”
He moves back to me with blinding speed, kneeling to take both my hands. His fingers are blazing hot, but I force myself not to pull away. “Yes. She’s more open to channeling with Montfort than I realized.”
“She communicated with them?”
He blinks. “She still does.”
For a second, I wish I had colors to curse with. “How? How is this possible?”
“I assume you don’t want an explanation of how radios and broadcasters work.” He smiles. I don’t laugh at the joke. “Montfort is obviously open to working with Silvers, in whatever capacity, to reach their goals. This is an”—he searches for the right words—“even partnership. They want the same thing.”
I almost scoff in disbelief. Royal Silvers working with Montfort . . . and the Guard? It sounds positively ludicrous. “And what do they want?”
“Maven off the throne.”
A chill goes through me despite the summer heat and the closeness of Cal’s body. Tears I can’t control spring to my eyes.
“Elara is dead,” I murmur, moving so we’re side by side. As if that’s any comfort.
“And he still took you. He still did horrible things.” Cal stares at the floor, unable to hold my gaze. “I just can’t understand why.”
I could keep quiet. Or distract him. But the words boil furiously in my throat. He deserves the truth. Reluctant, I take his hand.
“He remembers loving you, loving your father. But she took that love away, he said. Cut it out of him like a tumor. She tried to do the same with his feelings for me”—and Thomas before—“but it didn’t work. Certain kinds of love . . .” My breath hitches. “He said they’re harder to remove. I think the attempt twisted him, more than he already was. She made it impossible for him to let go of me. Everything he felt for both of us was corrupted, made into something worse. With you, hatred. With me, obsession. And there is nothing either of us could do to change him. I don’t even think she could undo her own work.”
His only reply is silence, letting the revelation hang in the air. My heart breaks for the exiled prince. I give him what I think he needs. My hand, my presence, and my patience. After a long, long time, he opens his eyes.
“As far as I know, there are no newblood whispers,” he says. “Not one that I’ve found or been told about. And I’ve done my fair share of searching.”
This I did not expect. I blink, confused.
“Newbloods are stronger than Silvers. And Elara was just Silver. If someone can . . . can fix him, isn’t it worth it to try?”
“I don’t know” is all I can say. Just the idea numbs me, and I don’t know how to feel. If Maven could be healed, so to speak, would that be enough to redeem him? Certainly it won’t change what he’s done. Not only to me and Cal, to his father, but to hundreds of other people. “I really don’t know.”
But it gives Cal hope. I see it there, like a tiny light in the distance of his eyes. I sigh, smoothing his hair. He needs another cut with a steadier hand than his own. “I guess if Evangeline can change, maybe anyone can.”
His sudden laugh echoes low in his chest. “Oh, Evangeline is the same as always. She just had more incentive to let you go than to let you stay.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know who told her to do it.”
“What?” I ask sharply.
With a sigh, Cal gets up and crosses the room. The opposite wall is all cabinetry, and mostly empty. He doesn’t have many possessions beyond his clothes and a few bits of tactical gear. To my surprise, he paces. It sets my teeth on edge.
“The Guard blocked every attempt I made to get you back,” he says, hands moving rapidly as he speaks. “No messages, no support for infiltration. No spies of any kind. I wasn’t going to sit in that freezing base and wait for someone to tell me what to do. So I made contact with someone I trust.”
Realization punches me in the gut. “Evangeline?”
“My colors, no,” he gasps. “But Nanabel, my grandmother—my father’s mother—”
Anabel Lerolan. The old queen. “You call her . . . Nanabel?”
He flushes silver and my heart skips a beat. “Force of habit,” he grumbles. “Anyway, she never came to court while Elara was there, but I thought she might once she died. She knew what Elara was, and she knows me. She would have seen through the queen’s lie. She would have understood Maven’s role in our father’s death.”
Communicating with the enemy. There’s no way Farley knew about this, or the Colonel. Nortan prince or not, either of them would have shot him if they did.
“I was desperate. And in hindsight, it was really, really stupid,” he adds. “But it worked. She promised to get you free when the opportunity presented itself. The wedding was that opportunity. She must have given support to Volo Samos to ensure your escape, and it was worth it. You’re here now because of her.”
I speak slowly. I must understand. “So you let her know the raid on Archeon was coming?”
He moves back to me with blinding speed, kneeling to take both my hands. His fingers are blazing hot, but I force myself not to pull away. “Yes. She’s more open to channeling with Montfort than I realized.”
“She communicated with them?”
He blinks. “She still does.”
For a second, I wish I had colors to curse with. “How? How is this possible?”
“I assume you don’t want an explanation of how radios and broadcasters work.” He smiles. I don’t laugh at the joke. “Montfort is obviously open to working with Silvers, in whatever capacity, to reach their goals. This is an”—he searches for the right words—“even partnership. They want the same thing.”
I almost scoff in disbelief. Royal Silvers working with Montfort . . . and the Guard? It sounds positively ludicrous. “And what do they want?”
“Maven off the throne.”
A chill goes through me despite the summer heat and the closeness of Cal’s body. Tears I can’t control spring to my eyes.
