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“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” I asked, not even bothering to try and hide my growing apprehension. This rabbit hole seemed endless, and the further I followed it down, the more the path toward the truth twisted and turned. In my heart, I already knew Graeme was about to throw another big old wrench into the mix.
He gazed at me for a moment, a thousand emotions moving through his eyes. Then he planted his hands on the arms of his chair and hoisted himself back to his feet. “No need to rush. We will get there.”
“But—”
“Please, sit down, Ambrose. Shall we have some tea? Coffee?”
“I can get it.” Frustrated as I was by his vague, cryptic comments, I jumped at the chance to help him with anything, even something as mundane as fixing drinks. To me, he looked frail that day, worn out by travel and the relentless vice grip of our shared grim reality.
But he waved me off. “Nonsense. You may be Tristan’s daughter, but you are also still crown princess of my court. I won’t have you serving me.”
The very sound of my father’s name crashed into my consciousness like a truck. I stopped in my tracks, sinking blankly down onto the nearest seat. “My dad’s name was Tristan?”
“Yes.” Graeme stood at a table by the window, two cups set out in front of him. “King Tristan of Evrion. A strong name for a strong ruler. At least in the beginning.”
My chest ached. A lump had lodged itself firmly in my throat. The colors in the room ran together, and I had the distinct notion that I might topple from the chair and pass out cold on the floor. Up until that moment, it hadn’t ever really occurred to me that I didn’t know their names. Or rather, that I didn’t remember.
My mother and father had been strangers to me. They must have known that was the inevitable future once they sent me away with Stas. And they chose to let me go anyway. To keep me safe.
“Ambrose.” Graeme leaned down and pressed a steaming cup into my hands. The strong, warm smell of coffee billowed up around my face, drawing me back into the moment. I took a deep breath. “Drink,” he said. “It will help clear your head.”
Obediently, I took a sip. The bitter, earthy taste hit the back of my throat and made me scrunch my nose.
“Jeez.” I blinked down at the cup. “What’d you put in this?”
He smiled. “Nothing.”
I drank again, more hesitantly this time. All the coffee I’d ever drank back in Seattle had been loaded with creamer and sugar, but there was something about this particular cup that compelled me to drink it black. It was almost familiar in a way I didn’t understand.
“So...” I hesitated. “What about my mother?”
Graeme eased down into his chair. “Queen Alara,” he said. “A wonderful woman, gentle and powerful at once.” He turned his pale irises to me. “I can see both of them in you.”
No one had ever said anything like that to me. I sat there in that chair like a statue buffeted by a raging sea of emotions. If I’d thought that my consultation with Sarena would be where I would find the connection I sought to my parents, I was dead wrong. It was here the whole time, so close to home.
“Graeme?” The old man’s name came out in a tiny voice. I cleared my throat. “Can I ask you something else now? And I want you to promise you’ll tell me the truth.”
Graeme lifted his coffee to his lips and took a long draught. “What is it, my dear?” He leaned back, completely at ease. Did he know what was coming? Had he spent the last eight years preparing to answer this question?
I looked at him straight on. “What do you think happened to them?”
Graeme’s returning gaze never wavered. I caught a flicker of sadness, a brief glimpse into deeper pools of sorrow. But the man was nothing if not stoic. He took a few moments to collect his thoughts.
“I honestly don’t know, my dear,” was what he finally admitted. “No one does.”
I furrowed my brow. “How is that possible? The king and queen of an entire planet can’t just disappear from the palace. Someone has to know where they ended up. I figured it must be you.”
“So did I,” he responded wryly. “And I still believe it should have been. But your father—Tristan—was a guardian above all else, a protector. He refused to disclose his plans to any of us, lest we get caught by the enemy. He thought it would keep us safer.”
“So he and my mother just left, and that was it?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. It seemed impossible to lose the highest members of a royal court without a trace.
“You must understand, I tried to convince him to give me the smallest clue. Anything that would let me know where the fate of Evrion stood once the smoke had cleared. I told him he was leaving the kingdom in a dangerous place, what with his only heir being spirited away to a separate world entirely. He wouldn’t hear of it.” Graeme shook his head wistfully. He was neck-deep in a memory; I saw it on his face.
I bit my lip. “I’m sorry, Graeme. It’s not your fault.”
“Indeed.” Graeme’s features softened. “Tristan was much like you in that way. He knew what he felt was best, and he never let anything get in his way.” He glanced toward the window. “There were many who were unable to stomach the choices he made at the end of his reign, but he made them with his heart. Much as I believe you will do once Evrion is back in your hands.”
If I ever get it back, I thought ruefully. Once again, my mind’s eye filled with visions of Raven on my throne. She was probably lounging on it, throwing her legs over the arm, just reveling in the fact that she was there and I wasn’t.
“Are you absolutely, positively certain they’re dead?” Even to myself, I sounded like a girl grasping at straws. But I had to be sure, for my own sake.
“Your parents? Yes.”
“How?”
He sighed. “Because they never came back for you, Ambrose. And death is the only thing that would stop them.”
I didn’t want him to be right. More than anything, I wanted Graeme to be well-intentioned but misinformed, gravely underestimating my parents’ resilience. Nonetheless, I feared his assessment of the situation was morbidly accurate. It was hard to deny that something in my father’s plan had gone horribly wrong.
I swallowed hard. “Then who is it? Who else could the other Cavelon be?”
Graeme was quiet for a while. He closed his eyes, and I started to wonder if he’d actually fallen asleep sitting up. Exhaustion etched deep lines across his countenance.
But just as I decided I had lost him, he said, “Tristan’s older brother turned away from the family when Tristan was young.”
“I have an uncle?” I sat up straighter. The prospect of filling out a family tree was both exciting and terrifying.
Graeme nodded slowly. “Donovan. He was sixteen when Tristan was born, and I don’t think he ever forgave your father for it.” He pressed his lips into a line. “Donovan vanished just prior to the coronation. Like a wisp of smoke in fog.”
I frowned. “Both brothers disappeared? Forever?”
“So it would seem.” Graeme’s expression grew distant. “The difference is, I am not at all convinced that Donovan is gone.”
