Bloodkin (22 page)

I could not even form the question, but Aaron guessed it.

“Naomi and Liam are personal friends of mine,” he told me. “They are here not as my guards, but as individuals who support me, and so will support you. Malachi assures me he would never have let them cross into this camp if he had not been able to guarantee their loyalty.”

Farrell spoke up. “I can understand why you are nervous, Kadee,” he said. “I was concerned myself at first. They have both willingly relinquished their weapons.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. Aaron had tried to be kind to me in the palace, and I appreciated that, but I couldn’t help remembering how naive he had been about what life was like for a half-human girl among the serpiente. He had never really understood why I cried when a male friend suddenly decided he wasn’t satisfied being
friends
, or when one of the royal guards decided I was the source of all his problems. Aaron didn’t know what it meant to be lonely or afraid.

Or hunted.

“Your being here is not going to improve your chances at the crown,” I said. I could not find it in me to welcome Aaron, or to curse him. He might have saved my life earlier, but that didn’t mean I had to trust him—especially when I didn’t understand what was going on now.

Aaron just shook his head and glanced at Misha before he said, “It doesn’t matter.”

“It doesn’t
matter
?” Vance echoed.

“Julian has decided,” Aaron said. “He is going to announce his heir at the Brysh-diem, in one month, and I have reason to believe I am his choice.”

“
You?
” I asked. “You’re the younger child, and you’re not even
his
.”

“Hara is hotheaded and self-centered.”

“That describes most serpents,” Vance replied drily.

Aaron nodded with a half smile, acknowledging the point. Quick-sparking tempers were nothing unusual among the serpiente. It certainly would not be enough to convince a father to deny his only daughter her rightful place on the throne.

“Just … trust me,” Aaron said. “I can’t go into all the details, but Hara is not in good graces with her father right now.”

“You didn’t tell us any of this earlier,” I said.

“We didn’t have a chance for extended conversation,” Aaron pointed out. “Let’s just say that Midnight would love for Hara to take the throne. She follows her father’s policy of playing nice and staying passive. I do not think they will be very happy after they hear what Julian has to say.”

I’m not ready for this
, I thought.

What if Aaron
did
become king? The way Misha was hanging on him made it clear that she would make her way to the throne beside him, bringing that part of Malachi’s prophecy to fruition. Then Aaron would take the throne,
and … and
what?
What would happen to the Obsidian guild, if Farrell Obsidian’s son ruled?

We had worked for this, sacrificed for it, but I realized in that moment that I had never really believed it would happen. A white viper on the serpiente throne—impossible!

My head was tied up in knots. Vance stayed by the fire, and I heard Malachi asking him what had happened with the Shantel. I made an excuse to get away from Aaron, who went back to snuggling with Misha.

Farrell sought me out in my solitude.

“I imagine this is a shock for you.”

Cliché and understatement.

“It was a shock for me as well,” Farrell said. “I knew Aaron was my son, but a long time ago I accepted that he would always call Julian Cobriana his father. I considered speaking to him a thousand times, but always came to the conclusion that even if I could reach him without the guards capturing me, his adoptive father had doubtless poisoned his opinion of me.”

“How did Misha manage to speak to him?” I asked. I didn’t doubt that she could sneak into the palace if she wanted to, but surely Aaron would have summoned guards the moment he saw a white viper.

“I don’t really know,” Farrell answered. “At great risk, I’m sure, but after what she has been through, I do not think she is able to fear anything anymore. She knew what a reunion with Aaron would mean to me.” He paused, and
added significantly, “And I know what the serpiente royal house means to you. Please, Kadee, try to keep an open mind. Aaron is my son, and Misha has spent the last weeks teaching him our ways. He considers you a sister, not a subject. I hope you will be able to see him as a brother, not a king you must fight.”

“How can one of us be a king?” I demanded. It was one thing to talk about Midnight burning, or even about Misha becoming queen. That was prophecy; it was abstract and far away, talk of “someday” and “imagine when.” This was sudden, immediate, and came with
royal guards
sitting in our camp. “How can he be one of us and be on the throne? Isn’t it everything we stand against?”

Farrell smiled sadly. “In that way, he is Julian’s son. When he appeared in our camp, I will admit I had a brief fantasy that he had decided to join us completely, but he has never spoken a word that indicates he has even considered anything other than taking the throne.”

“What will you do?” I asked. “Will you call him king?”

I didn’t just ape Obsidian ideals because I had nowhere else to go. I truly believed in them, and they said that it was our responsibility not to rule and not to let ourselves be ruled. I held no hatred for Aaron, but the idea of Farrell bowing before him disgusted me.

“I will call him son,” Farrell answered. “And you will call him brother, and unless I am mistaken, Misha will call him husband. And if he really does speak up against
Midnight, as he intends, I will call him brave, and a hero, and I will pray that they allow him to live.”

“Do you really think it can happen?” I asked, my voice shaking a little. What I had seen inside Midnight proper flashed before my eyes. Children living in cells. Collars around throats too pale to have ever seen the sun. Jeshickah’s face as she calmly bartered with us. Misha’s injuries as she snarled at the trainer. Alasdair, now stripped of even her name, as docile as a doll as she obeyed her master’s commands. “Can Misha destroy Midnight?”

“I have staked the last two decades of my life on that belief,” Farrell answered. “I lost Aaron’s mother over it. I accepted every vile thing the Cobriana said about me, and let them tarnish my name, because I believed Malachi when he told me his mother was with child, and that child would grow up to change this world.”

“The Shantel seem to know something about the prophecy,” I said. I was still confused and overwhelmed by what I had seen tonight—it seemed so sudden and inexplicable—but I would not hide information from Farrell. He had given more than any of us to our cause. I told him the gist of what had happened in Shantel land, including the brief conversation I had overheard between Shane and the sakkri about how the “white queen” would not rise in time to save him if he went to Midnight.

Farrell’s eyes widened, and the expression I saw on his face was joyous. “A falcon prophecy shows what
could
be,
not what must be, but they say that a Shantel prophecy is always true. Are you and Vance going back?”

“Do you think we should?” I asked. Vance and I had already decided to go, but I still wanted to hear Farrell’s opinion.

I expected him to say,
It’s up to you
, but instead, he spoke with a fanatic’s voice. “If you do, you might be able to press them for more details of their prophecy about the white queen.”

“Maybe,” I said. I didn’t want to know more about the prophecy. If the Shantel said Misha would take the throne, then she would, right? There was nothing we could do to ensure or endanger that future.

That was a relief, because I had already done more than I could stand. I wanted out of this juggernaut before we were asked to sacrifice another Alasdair, another Shane.

When the others began to dance to the accompaniment of a flute played by Aaron’s guard Liam, Farrell returned to the group. My kin knew me well enough that they did not question my decision not to join them … except for Vance, who came to sit beside me, and said, “Your face is hard to read when you want it to be.”

I shrugged.

“I can read you anyway,” Vance added. “You would be comfortable if he were one of us, and called you a sister, or if he was king, and called you a villain. Can you accept a king who calls you a sister?”

I threw a halfhearted glare his way. “He is the closest thing to a brother I have ever had, but accepting him, and forgiving him … I want to, but I don’t know if I can.”

“What do you need to forgive him for?”

“Nothing,” I answered.

“You’re the one who used the word,” Vance pointed out.

“I’m not saying ‘nothing’ because I just don’t want to talk,” I snapped. “I mean, he didn’t actually
do
anything that anyone wouldn’t have done. He didn’t protect me when I was a child because he was still practically a child himself. He didn’t understand what my life was like. But that sums it up, doesn’t it?
He doesn’t understand
. He is Farrell’s son, but he will never understand what it means to
not
be a prince, a king. Do we expect that to change when he takes the throne?”

“He speaks of you as a sister,” Vance said.

Was I being reasonable, or just being a faithless coward?

I bit my lip and admitted, “I do not want to think of him as a brother. Not when I know what Midnight might do to him.”

Malachi said that Misha would become queen. Here she was, nice and friendly with the prince who said he was in line to become king. Shouldn’t I take that, as impossible as it had once seemed, as a sign? Yet, when I imagined Aaron and Misha taking the throne, all I could see was the look on Shane’s face when he said,
“I’m what we’re offering.”

Midnight would make an example of the Shantel despite
all their power. The serpiente had no magic forest to protect them.

As if summoned by my thought of him, Malachi joined us. His earlier smile had faded, and now he looked tired. “Are you two going to stay the night?” he asked.

I was grateful beyond words when Vance said, “I’m a little nervous about sleeping an arm’s length away from palace guards.”

“I’m surprised no one else is,” I said, thinking about the others who had come north with Malachi and now seemed unusually content to camp on Midnight’s land and break bread with serpiente guards.

“Legally, they cannot assault us here,” Malachi said, though even he sounded unconvinced. He shook his head. “You two should go. I know I said you should come here, but perhaps you’re right. You have other things to do, and distance from Misha would be good.”

“From
Misha
?” I asked. The concerns we had expressed had been about the guards.

Malachi didn’t clarify. Instead, he turned his back on us to return to the others.

Vance sighed. “If we’re going to leave, we should get going,” he said. “We still need some sleep before we tackle the Shantel forest.”

I nodded, though my thoughts were less on the Shantel and more on Malachi’s words.
Distance from Misha would be good
. What was he worried about?

MY DREAMS THAT
night were surreal.

I was on a bridge
,
looking at the rushing river running underneath. Water and foam sprayed into the air whenever the river struck one of the pillars holding up the bridge
.

Where was I?

I looked to my left, and it seemed to be nighttime. On that side of the bridge stood Malachi, Vance … and Midnight’s trainers. To my right were Misha and Aaron, almost wrapped around each other, kissing under a dawn that had streaked the sky red
.

Not dawn, I realized. Fire. The fire started rushing toward the bridge. It engulfed Misha and Aaron, and then started to lick the wooden pilings of my bridge. Smoke filled my lungs, making me cough as I backed slowly across the bridge until I realized my only choices were to walk into that darkness—or dive into the water
.

I put my hands on the rough wooden planks of the bridge, and was climbing onto the railing when arms wrapped around me, and Vance said, “It’s okay, Kadee. It’s—”

“It’s okay.” I opened my eyes, waking to the sound of Vance’s voice. “You were having a nightmare. You’re okay now.”

Too many nightmares
, I thought, trying to recall how many times lately I had woken to similar words, trying to scramble from nighttime horrors into a world that sometimes didn’t seem much better.

Like in my dream, the sky above us was streaked violet and mauve. These clouds however were painted by the rising sun, not fire and smoke.

Vance yawned widely, which wasn’t surprising. After saying goodbye to the others, we had traveled as far as we could stand before we set up our own camp and managed to get at most two or three hours of sleep.

“I have our bags packed already, except for your bedding,” Vance said. He had apparently slept even worse than I had.

Packing took only a few moments, and then we were on our way toward Shantel land once again.

“What was the nightmare?” Vance asked.