Sin Eater's Daughter 2 - The Sleeping Prince (12 page)

“I just want us both safe. Once we’re there, I’ll tell you why I have to do this. The real reason. I don’t have a choice, Silas. If there was another way then I’d do it, but there isn’t. It has to be like this.”

He scoffs as he turns, the moonlight catching his profile, his curling lip. “I really thought we were friends. I thought we were more than that.”

“More than friends? When you flinch if I touch you?” I struggle to keep my voice down. “Of course, it all makes sense now. The girl. The waiting. Why didn’t you say you had someone already? Though she can’t think much of you if you don’t even know where she is.” I know I need to stop talking but I can’t.

He whirls around to face me. “Is that what this is about? Is this your revenge because you and I… You think this is about a girl? This is all jealousy?”

“Of course not,” I laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “You’ve been nothing but clear about your feelings for me. You’re not interested.”

“No, I’m not,” he spits at me, silencing me. “Because I’m a monk, Errin.”

I stare at him, the impact of his words finally hitting me.

“You’re a monk?” I repeat, stunned.

He pulls my cloak from his shoulders and tosses it to me. In the light that glows weakly through the cow horn window, his skin has a faint golden sheen, the paleness washed temporarily away. He bends to pick up a tunic from the floor and the bones of his spine appear like stepping stones in-between and beneath the tattoos, vanishing under a thin layer of muscle when he straightens and pulls the tunic over his head. He looks like a creature from a story, from another world, carved of ice and gold.

“Yes. I am a brother of the Order of the Sisters of Næht.”

“I don’t understand.” I mean it in so many ways. He’s too young to be a monk, and too… Monks don’t carry knives and stalk forests. Monks don’t purchase poisons. Monks aren’t Lormerian alchemists with tattoos. Monks have tonsures, and bad breath. They’re old. Silas … he’s not a monk.

His left eyebrow arches. “What’s to understand? I took a vow, I’m bound to serve the Sisters of Næht.”

“Do you believe in the Gods?”

“No, of course not.”

“But then—” I stop, putting it all together in my mind. The Sisters, his alchemy, his smuggling. I test my theory again in my head, and then make my guess. “The Sisters of Næht are alchemists, aren’t they? Lormerian alchemists living in secret. It’s a cover.”

He shrugs, crossing his arms, saying nothing.

I recall what he told me about his parents. “Your mother is an alchemist?”

“No. She’s like you. Normal.” He says it as though it’s a bad thing, and it hurts. “My father was the alchemist. Alchemic blood breeds true.”

I take a deep breath, thinking it through. “So you’re not really a monk; it’s a disguise.”

He looks at me, his golden eyes fixed on mine. “No. I am a monk. I took a vow of fidelity to the Sisters of Næht. I swore to live my life in service to them, putting them above all others. I vowed to take no wife and sire no child whilst in their service. I am a votary, in word and deed.” He looks down at the floor and as soon as he does I allow my own face to fall.

“Oh.” My voice is quiet. “How?”

“How did I become a monk?”

“All of it,” I say. “How did all of it happen? Or can’t you tell me?”

I didn’t mean it to sound barbed, but his eyes flash, eyebrows rising. “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little more gracious in victory. What more do you want? Blood?”

“I meant…” I fall silent when he turns from me again to the window, dismissing me, as he lifts one of the slats, peering out. When he next faces me, his expression is wiped clean. “I want to understand,” I say softly.

“The knowledge you’re withholding from me is more important than anything else I could tell you. Understand that.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath and place my hand over my slowly cracking heart. “I’m sorry for this. I truly am. I wish… I wish it could be another way.”

His smile is one of bitterness, and it cuts me to the bone. “If wishes were horses then beggars would ride.”

My skin burns and I lower my head. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “I have to think of my family. My mother. I have to do what’s best for her. Surely you can understand that, given what you’re doing for yours?”

He remains silent, chewing on his lip, his arms still crossed. “You know of Aurek and Aurelia, don’t you?” he says after a moment, his tone a little less frigid.

I look at him, shaking my head slowly. Then a picture comes to mind. The Sleeping Prince stands atop a tower, a girl, his sister, beside him, Tallith golden and gleaming below them. And I remember the caption that accompanied it, hear the voice of my mother reading it.

The twins, the mirror of each other on the outside, grew apart as they grew older, becoming as different as day and night. Aurek, the golden prince and heir to the throne of Tallith, aurumsmith and vitasmith, and his sister, Aurelia, philtresmith, no longer moved and thought as one.

Aurek. In all that had happened I’d never thought of him as simply Aurek, the golden one. This is the real man, not the Sleeping Prince, the fairy tale. Prince Aurek of Tallith. Cursed to sleep so long the world made him a myth. I’d forgotten that. I’d forgotten he had a sister too. Aurelia. She’s hardly mentioned in the story, overshadowed by the plight of the Sleeping Prince and the rat catcher’s daughter. But Aurek and Aurelia were the original alchemists, the blessed children whose gifts brought unrivalled prosperity and health to Tallith, until the Sleeping Prince was cursed. Then Aurelia left Tallith for places unknown, though she eventually married and had a family; it was she who carried the philtresmith line.

“Yes,” I say. “The twins. The Sleeping Prince, and his sister.”

Silas nods. “And you know the tales of Aurek and his … appetites?”

I shake my head and Silas looks surprised, and then embarrassed, his eyes sliding to the side.

“Aurek was fond of … courting maids and seducing them. He got many of them with child—”

“I know about the Bringer.” I interrupt him, and immediately regret it when Silas’s face turns stony again.

“We don’t include him,” he says coldly. “His story isn’t part of our lore.”

I fall silent. Long, awkward moments elapse; then finally he takes a deep breath and continues. “Aurek decreed that because these children had his blood, they were to be taken from their mothers and raised as noble children in the palace. By the time Aurek fell asleep, he’d sired eight children.”

“And all eight were taken from their mothers?” Even with my current feelings towards my mother, I’m still horrified.

“It seems they were paid off, handsomely.” His mouth twists with apparent distaste. “And there would have been no point defying Aurek’s wishes. He was as cruel as he was lustful. After the curse caused Tallith to fall, and it became apparent Aurek wasn’t going to recover, Aurelia left and founded the commune in Lormere, along with a few former servants who were loyal to her. They brought the children Aurek had sired. They were vulnerable, as his acknowledged offspring. Even though at first they seemed not to have his abilities, their name alone would have fetched a high price. Aurelia chose the East Mountains because of how isolated they were. She had no idea Lormere would be a fledgling kingdom in its own right within sixty years of them arriving.”

He pauses, licking his lips to moisten them, and I wait to hear if there’s more.

“The rise of the House of Belmis, and their obsession with securing alchemists to work for them and further their hold over the land, caused many to leave Lormere. They married normal men and women, in Tregellan, and were largely left alone by your former royal family, save for paying a tithe in gold. They went back into semi-hiding after the war with Lormere.”

“Because of the Lormerian royals’ demands?”

His face darkens. “Precisely. The House of Belmis had always been a little too interested in alchemy, and Aurek and Aurelia.”

My eyes widen and he continues. “When the Tallithi first settled in Lormere, they brought the tales of the twins with them: Aurek, the vitasmith who could give life to the never living. Aurelia, who could heal any wound, cure any ill. Over time the story was passed down by word of mouth, and the people forgot they were twins, and they forgot they were mortal. Rumours spread of Aurek’s enchanted sleep; that he didn’t rot, or even age. That he was uncorrupted and would one day rise again. He was styled as a God, and Aurelia with him. Then later, as lovers. That’s where the tradition of the royals marrying brother to sister came from. The misunderstood history of Aurek and Aurelia, the Golden Twins of Tallith.

“They made them into Næht and Dæg, Gods who’d blessed the House of Belmis and given them the right to rule. As a bitter kind of joke, Aurelia’s daughter, who was our leader by then, formally named it the Sisters of Næht. She could never speak out to say that the House of Belmis was lying without giving herself and us away, but she couldn’t let them have it all.”

“Why, though?” I ask. “Why were you so against working with the House of Belmis?”

“We wouldn’t have been against working with them. But we are against working
for
them. Parts of alchemy are dark. The Tregellian royal family, and then the Council, have always been understanding of this. The Lormerian royal family wouldn’t be. They’d want the gold. And if they knew about it, the Elixir.” He looks away, staring into the distance.

“Who makes the Elixir? Is it the girl? She’s an alchemist, a philtresmith? Is that why she’s so precious?”

Silas looks at me. “Do you really expect me to tell you? You’re blackmailing me, Errin. I’m going to take you and your mother into the Conclave, and have to explain how and why to my people. To my mother. I’m going to have to confess to breaking my vows to help you. I’m going to have to tell my people why I put them at risk, for you. I’m in a world of trouble on your account already. You’ve had enough from me. Be satisfied.”

I’ve never felt so low. “Silas … I don’t have a choice. Mama—”

“Spare me,” Silas cuts across me. “I don’t need the details.”

Tears sting my eyes and I look down at the floor, the pain in my chest growing, weighing me down. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He leans back against the side of the hut. “If I’m honest, I’d probably do the same in your shoes.” Then he snorts. “I did, actually, if you remember. When we first met.”

I look up at him but his eyes are closed, and I feel a spark of hope that he might forgive me, or at least understand why I’m doing this.

“I suppose the wheel has come full circle.” He opens his eyes. “Getting the Elixir will be hard, I have to warn you. The supply that currently exists is all there is, for now. The vial I gave you was my personal one.”

I raise my brows at him.

“We all have one, in case we’re injured. It heals physical wounds quickly.” He pauses. “I couldn’t find Ely’s. I checked his pockets before I brought him to you. He must have lost it.”

“And you’d already given yours to me.” A new wave of guilt floods me. If he hadn’t tried to help me, he might have saved Ely with it. I remember then, coming back from the woods and finding him at the table, near the vial, his eyes wild. “It was right there,” I say. “On the table. One drop left.”

He falls quiet. “I know. I won’t pretend I didn’t consider it.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks me straight in the eye and says in a voice like iron. “Because you needed it. It’s not in my nature to betray my friends.”

My skin burns crimson, and I know then that things aren’t right with us, and might not be, ever again. I tear my eyes from his. “Thank you,” I say softly.

After a moment, he continues, his tone a little kinder. “Recently we’ve started to carry a vial of deadly poison, in case we’re captured. So thank you.”

“Me?” I glance down at my hands. “Surely you could make your own poisons?”

“The Elixir isn’t like your apothecary creations. The basic principle of mixing ingredients is the same, but the technique differs, and of course with the Elixir we don’t have much need for apothecary. We used to have those arts, but for various reasons they were abandoned. We don’t experiment any more. Besides, alchemists aren’t too fond of poison. Or at least we weren’t.”

“Well, I’m glad I’ve been of some use.” I twist my cloak in my hands.

He moves quickly, kneeling before me. “You could be of more use. Tell me where she is. I’ll still help you, I swear it. Please, Errin. Don’t make our friendship into this.”

His words burn. But though it makes me feel sick to do it, I shake my head. “Silas, I told you, I’ll tell you when you bring my mother to the Conclave and have them take care of her. I’ll take you to her myself.”

He nods, his head dropping, defeated. “Tomorrow. I’ll send a message tomorrow.”

I nod. “Thank you. And … I have instructions, about Mama,” I say. “And her illness. They’d have to follow them. To the letter. And keep it secret.”

He snorts, then walks to the window and peers out again. “We’re good at secrets. She’ll be fine there.” She would be too; we’d be back well before the next full moon. I feel a small weight lift off my shoulders, but when I look at him I see the opposite has happened. His shoulders are slumped, and he leans against the frame with such an air of weariness that my heart goes out to him. I’ve done this to him.

I struggle to stand, but as I push the blankets away my foot tangles and I gasp, starting to fall. He darts towards me and catches me, my face mashing into his shoulder before he sets me upright.

“Thank y—” I look up, and his face is right next to mine.

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep, shuddering breath. When he opens them, they’re full of resolve and fire.

“It’s not fair,” he murmurs, his expression pained. “I’m trying so hard to be your friend.” I daren’t move.

“I meant my vows when I took them.” He takes his hands from my shoulders with finality.

“I’ll go,” I say, unable to look at him, but he moves, stopping me from reaching for the door.

“I can’t let you,” he says quietly. “I can’t run the risk that they see you leaving here and come looking.”

“I have to. Mama is alone.”