The dark sea glittered like a jewel encrusted gown, beckoning. How often had he stood on that very balcony and wished for nothing more than to explore the vast wonders that lay beyond the dazzling expanse of ocean? Too often for a man of his privilege, his power. Valterys watched the seagulls hunt for their dinner, dipping into the waves and surfacing with their catch. They were scavengers and hunters. Not too unlike himself.
At the polite sound of a throat clearing, he turned from the temptation of flying with them, of seeing blood stain their feathers as his sharp talons bit into their feathered flesh. Of hearing their screams as they died.
A servant stood in the doorway, and Valterys motioned him forward.
“Have you located Zakael?” Concern laced his words. The man had been gone well over a fortnight.
“He entered the city not more than a half bell past. The sentry at the eastern gate sent the message, my lord.”
“Was he alone?”
“Indeed, my lord.”
“Very well. Let me know the minute he enters the castle walls.” Valterys returned to his position on the balcony, the sea lost from view as his thoughts clouded.
He’d placed his trust in Marissa and sent Zakael to Mount Nadrene. All of his plans hinged on the arrival of the anomaly. So far, Marissa had never given him false information. He had no reason to doubt her. Not once in all the past seasons had Lliandra given him hope that his child had lived. With his own eyes, he saw the infant corpse, and yet Marissa claimed there was another, secreted away moments after her birth. A girl. Not the son he’d wished for.
For near on thirty-five seasons, he and Zakael had searched every kingdom on Aelinae, save for the Narthvier. The Eleri allowed very few to cross their borders, but no matter. Valterys had spies everywhere. If the Eirielle was hidden in King Stephan’s forest, he would’ve known.
Valterys allowed himself a rare moment of speculation, and a surge of power flowed through him as he dared hope it was true—his and Lliandra’s child, the one of prophecy, was alive and among them now.
He would restore Rykoto’s freedom and, in return, be granted immortality. With his rise, all of Aelinae would bow to him as their one true leader. Their Overlord for all time. Valterys smiled to himself. As soon as he had the girl, he could set about destroying Lliandra.
Zakael swept through the doorway, ignoring protocol to grasp his father’s arm in greeting.
“What kept you? It has been too long since your last missive.” Valterys kept his tone even, not wanting to alert Zakael to the fact he’d worried about him. “What in Ohlin’s name are you wearing?”
“I had some difficulties.” Zakael rubbed the back of his head. “I will tell you all, but let me first refresh myself. I’m afraid my horse will be useless for a sennight. Order us dinner. I will meet you here in three-quarters of a bell.”
The peasants’ garb he wore bespoke of more than a few difficulties. Zakael was nothing if not vain.
Valterys brooded while he waited for his son. All sorts of scenarios played out in his mind, each worse than the one before. Zakael could be impetuous. The gods knew how many times Valterys had to intervene to save his heir from disaster. Not that Zakael had ever been grateful. No, he’d lamented lost opportunities and raged at his father each time. Valterys vowed the next time Zakael found himself in grave danger, he would not assist in any way. He’d let Zakael handle it, even if it meant harm would come to his son.
Except, Valterys knew he could never do that—he loved Zakael far too much to see him suffer.
His son arrived moments before the food and poured himself a large glass of wine without bothering to offer any to Valterys. He kept his anger in check. His son was getting too bold, too full of his own importance. He would need to set Zakael straight soon enough, but not before he got what information he could. When they were seated, Valterys leaned eagerly toward the younger man, prompting him to tell of the events at Mount Nadrene.
“Glennwoods was there, as was Brandt.”
“Truly? The Eleri prince and Lliandra’s high priest? But what of my daughter? Did you see her?”
“Aye, she was with the old man. Very fair of face and dressed in strange garments. I could not discern where she’d been all these seasons, but if I had to guess, it would be with the Eleri. Perhaps with a lesser clan, on the outskirts of the Narthvier.”
Valterys leaned back, thinking. “We will have to assume Stephan knew nothing of the girl. For now. I don’t want war with the Eleri until the end.”
“This can be a huge bargaining tool, if necessary.” Zakael ate his food between sentences, taking care not to spill anything on his tunic.
Valterys looked away. It was a habit that irritated him. “What happened in the cavern that you did not return with the Eirielle?”
Zakael started slowly, spinning a tale about his confrontation with Rhoane, the arrival of Brandt and the girl, and the subsequent fight. “They were gone before I recovered. There’s more, Father. The Shanti Brandt used against me…it felt wrong. I know the priest. He would not willingly kill. She didn’t use her power, but I suspect the girl had a hand in helping the old man defeat me. The raw strength of his attack was clumsy.”
“Marissa tells me the priest died in the cavern.”
“What?” Zakael looked genuinely flustered. “Not by my hand. My Shanti was enough to stun, nothing more.”
Valterys took a long drink of his wine, savoring the delicate taste of Geigan blood in the mixture. “No matter. Brandt was an inconvenience, that’s all. While you were otherwise indisposed, I went to Ravenwood to retrieve the sword.”
A flash of excitement crossed Zakael’s face. “Where is it?”
“Myrddin was there with that giant knight of his. Come to think of it, Glennwoods was there, as well. He must’ve met up with Myrddin after the cavern.” Valterys thought hard, his mind racing over the events at Ravenwood. “I didn’t see the girl, but there was a presence that I could not explain.”
“And the duke’s heir? Is he dead?”
“Myrddin blocked my way, but if it is as Marissa claims, the boy is dead.”
“Do not doubt her powers, my lord. Or her loyalty.”
Valterys snorted. What Zakael didn’t know about the crown princess could fill volumes. “Time will tell. For now, I’ll trust in your judgment and hope Myrddin does not possess the sword.”
“Impossible. Only one of the true Blood can wield it.” They looked at each other in alarm, Zakael voicing their shared thought. “Nadra’s tit,” he swore. “If the Eirielle is at Ravenwood, that means they are in possession of the blood and the blade.”
“Now that we know she is out of hiding, we can proceed with our plans.” Valterys went to the balcony, resting his arms on the railing. “She will be of age soon—that is why Lliandra has chosen to reveal her now. Very cunning. It must be a public declaration, but when?”
“There is the duke’s ball, but I doubt she would present her there. She will wait until they are at the Crystal Palace and the seat of her power before announcing the return of her long-lost daughter.”
Lliandra needed the sword to convince the court the girl was her true daughter, yes, but if she wanted them to believe she was the Eirielle, Valterys must also acknowledge the girl. Even though his daughter could not inherit the Obsidian Throne, he needed her to further his plans, which meant he had to publicly claim her.
He slammed his glass on the stone railing, sending tiny shards spraying in every direction. Blood seeped from several cuts on his palm.
“If I’d known she was at Ravenwood, I would not have left so quickly.” Valterys cursed under his breath. “Still, I could not fight them all, not alone. We must make haste to Talaith. If Lliandra plans to present my daughter to the world, I should be there.”
“Give me a day to rest and see to my work, and then we’ll do as you wish. But first, we should pay your cousin a visit.” Zakael’s eyes glinted like polished granite in the firelight, his lips curled in a wicked smile. “What better way to observe the Eirielle than at a masked ball?”