CHAPTER 35

When the grand feast was finished, the party adjourned to the patio. It was lit by several thick candles that were taller than Tovi. They were placed directly on the ground at regular intervals along the edge of the space. Their flames reached high above their heads and cast orb-like glows.

Tovi stood alone and was grateful for a few seconds of peace. As she looked around, her eyes caught those of Eryx, the fighter who had somehow known her name. He was walking toward her but stopped several feet away. They stood and stared at one another for a moment before he turned and escaped into the palace.

Checking to see that Calix and Damien were still engaged in lively conversation, she quietly followed Eryx through the wide open doors. She tiptoed through the banquet hall and down a lushly carpeted corridor, but there was no sign of Eryx anymore.

She wandered for several minutes, studying paintings and tapestries, before winding up in the throne room. She walked directly to the mural, starting her investigation to the right of the door. The first few inches were a solid, pale blue, and then rough outlines of trees and slopes began to form. Within feet, the walls were covered in an incredible landscape complete with rolling hills, vibrant plains, and a bright morning sky. She scanned the rest of the room and saw that the story ended abruptly behind the thick red curtain.

She went back to the beginning and started looking at the details. She found the face that was in almost every scene on the wall, and she frowned in concentration. Definitely blue eyes. How could Xanthe think they were brown? The man in the mural reminded her of Silas, with similar shaggy brown hair and a tall, lean frame. Her heart ached with homesickness.

She was nearly halfway around the room when the images began to change. Darker colors crept into the palette, and somehow the story was familiar. She saw a young boy sitting against a tree, contempt pouring from his eyes. Words and images flowed back to her from a distant memory, a time when Ganya had first told her the story of Adwin. “Once there was a young boy who lived on a mountain. He sat beneath a tree while the other children played.”

She was puzzled. This mural seemed ancient, but the events it portrayed happened only fifty-some years ago. Ganya and Avi had been part of the story, following Adwin off the mountain and into their new valley home. The cracks and chips in the faded paint didn’t make sense.

The next several portions of the mural showed the two together, the pouty young boy and the blue-eyed man. It showed them fishing, building a treehouse, playing a guitar and fiddle. The boy no longer looked angry. His face radiated with a joy that mirrored the man beside him. She heard Ganya’s voice again. “Adwin loved the boy and took him as an apprentice, even though he knew who the boy might become . . . ”

“We were very close in those days,” a soft voice said from across the room, making Tovi shiver. “But that was before he left me.”

She turned to see King Damien sauntering toward her, his metal-tipped boots clicking against the marble tiles. “See there? That’s me,” he said, pointing to the boy.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why would you say that?” he asked, now standing close beside her, staring at the mural.

“Look at the way it’s fading, and some of the paint is cracked. It must be at least a hundred years old.”

“You underestimate the durability of sacred prophecy, Tovi. These stone slabs have been here for much longer than that. The palace was merely built around them.”

She looked at it again, trying to understand.

“This is not a history book quite yet, dear girl, although many of these scenes have come to pass since the artist put paint to stone. See, there I am with Adwin when he taught me how to fiddle.” He pointed to one of the scenes Tovi had already examined. “I believe he goes by a different name now.”

“No, we still call him Adwin.”

Damien laughed, cruel and hollow. “So, you haven’t figured it out yet, have you?” He gazed at the painting and laughed again before turning toward Tovi. “Really, I think you have. You have just been denying it. Just as I have been denying what the color of your hair and that little star in your eye must mean.”

Tovi looked at him quietly, waiting for him to continue. Her pulse beat loudly in her ears.

Damien looked at the mural, running a pale finger over one of the scenes that depicted him as a young boy. “Adwin took a new name when he left the mountain. He is the man you call Silas.”

Tovi lost all sense of stability, her world dropping out from under her and the walls tipping and swaying. A loud buzzing filled her mind, and she reached out to steady herself against the stone. Her mind flashed to the ridge, his painting studio, the dance floor at a wedding, his sparkling blue eyes.

“Yes, yes, my dear. The one who stole you from your parents? The one who took your brother? The one who allowed Avi to die? He and Silas are one and the same.”

Details collided in ways she had never processed before, and she felt like she might get sick. On top of the buzzing in her mind and the heartbeat in her ears, the edge of her vision was going black.

Silas had taken her from her parents and never told her the truth? Silas took her brother and never told her where he went? Silas listened to her constant questions and never gave her the answers that were right there? He could have saved her from months—years!—of torment, and he didn’t. He had actually caused the pain and agony.

The love she had for Silas was thrown under a shroud of darkness and hatred like nothing she had known before. She wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to be as broken as she was.

She felt another slice across her back. She took a ragged inhale, still holding the wall for support. Damien chuckled softly.

“There are many secrets that you don’t know, Tovi. Secrets so deep that few understand. These walls don’t just tell our history. They also tell our present and future. We will get to that with time. Right now, I want to tell you the true story of Adwin. I’m afraid it diverges dramatically from the tales you have been told. By the end, you will see that Silas is not a friend to be trusted.

“You see,” he said, pointing to the scene of the pouting boy under the tree, “this is where your people changed the story. I’m sure you’ve been told that I was an evil child, a greedy little boy who wanted attention. That is partially true. I didn’t understand the ways of the world yet, and I must admit I was jealous of the adoration poured onto Adwin. All I wanted was to know what it was like to be loved. My parents had always despised me, and I had no siblings. I was very alone.

“That was when I first started dreaming of a new way. I had ideas, grandiose goals and inspired vision. I could see that our mountain needed to change if it was going to thrive. But Adwin didn’t want me to steal any of his power. I see that now. He began teaching me all sorts of things and taking me along on extraordinary quests. I thought we were becoming the greatest of friends, the most powerful of allies. It wasn’t until later that I realized he was only manipulating my young heart.

“He thought he could squelch my desires and aspirations by distracting me from them, and he was successful for several years. But in the end, I was not to be deterred. I began teaching others about the possibilities for a brighter future, a future based on Pleasure, Adoration, Perfection, Prosperity, Wisdom, Power and Control. Before long I had most of the city behind me. I went to Adwin and shared my philosophy with him. I so desperately wanted his partnership. Above all else, I wanted him beside me as I ruled this mountain,” he said, walking Tovi past several scenes of growing torch-bearing mobs.

“Soon enough, I had so much support that there was no use fighting it. Adwin fled from the mountain, swearing he would one day retaliate and win the mountain back.”

Tovi and Damien walked along the wall, watching as the mural illustrated parts of his story. When they reached the place that showed Silas heading for the valley, they stopped. “My heart has never completely healed from that moment when he walked away. It all could have been such a happy ending. Instead, he chose to leave me, and I will never forgive him for that.”

He wandered through his own musings for just a moment and then apologized. “Forgive me for rambling. It is hard to be concise when telling a story so close to my heart. I just can’t stand to see you being misled the way I was. That man who claims to be a good king spends more time making you those silly flowers than fixing all the hurt in the world.”

The sound of several voices drew near, and party guests swarmed through the door. Calix approached Tovi and Damien and said, “It got a bit chilly outside. We didn’t interrupt anything, did we?”

“Of course not. Just a little history lesson,” Damien answered as a servant refilled his glass with blood-red wine. Speaking directly to Tovi, he said, “We will continue our lessons in the morning. See you at breakfast.”

He vanished into the crowd, leaving Tovi confused, heartbroken, and bitterly furious. The buzzing had subsided, but it was replaced by a throbbing headache and a feeling like she was in the room but not fully present.

It was quite late when the guests finally dispersed. Xanthe accompanied Tovi and Calix back to the house and up to the terrace. She asked if she could speak to Tovi privately, and Calix reluctantly agreed.

As soon as they were alone, Xanthe whispered excitedly, “So, what do you think? Why do we see the mural differently? I mean, it has to mean something that I see his eyes as brown and you see them as blue. It’s got to be something important. Don’t you think?”

“I have so much to tell you,” Tovi said weakly, massaging her temples. She recounted her conversation with Damien as quickly and quietly as she could.

“So, you do know him? You just didn’t know that you know him? This is unbelievable, Tovi! It’s all true, then! He’s real . . . Tell me everything about him.”

The excitement in Xanthe’s voice grated on Tovi’s nerves. “You don’t understand. You don’t know what he’s done to me.”

Calix stepped through the door and looked at Xanthe with annoyance. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be leaving?”

Her face fell back into its lifeless mask. “Haven’t you noticed that Tovi hasn’t earned her rose yet? His Majesty asked me to give her some extra tutoring since she’s proving to be slow with this one. And apparently you haven’t been any help since she’s been here.”

His eyes narrowed, and Tovi was fairly certain that he didn’t buy it. But either way, he went back into the house.

“Tomorrow night,” Tovi said. “Tomorrow I’ll meet you at the HH, and I’ll tell all of you everything.”

Xanthe nodded and rushed home. Finally, Tovi was alone with her confused and tortured thoughts. She stood at the railing of her balcony, eyes searching the skyline punctuated with lit windows. He was out there. She didn’t want to miss him, but she did. She wanted to hate him, and it was easy. How could she love and despise the same person so thoroughly? How could Silas, her dear friend, have done those things? How could he be responsible for kidnapping her from her parents? How could he be the one who stole her brother? What kind of monster would do this to her, all the while pretending to love her?

His face swam before her eyes, and another wave of hatred coursed through her veins. The marks on her back were on fire, and she could hardly bear it. She wanted desperately to go home, but she didn’t know where that would be.

Calix came out to the terrace and stood just behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed the back of her neck. He gently tugged her toward the door, and she let him lead her back inside. Any distraction was welcome. She hoped that giving into his desires would dull the hate and pain in her heart.